Russian Fairy Tales (Pantheon Fairy Tale and Folklore Library)

by Afanas'Ev, Aleksandr

  Alionushka tied him with a silken belt and led him on, shedding tears, bitter tears. The kid ran and ran till he ran into the garden of a certain king. The servants saw him and at once reported to the king. “Your Majesty,” they said, “in our garden there is a kid; a maiden is leading him on a belt, and she is a great beauty.” The king ordered them to find out who she was. The servants asked her whence she came and of what parentage she was. “There were a king and a queen and they died,” said Alionushka. “We children remained—I, the princess, and my little brother, the prince. He could not restrain himself, drank water from a well, and became a kid.” The servants reported all this to the king. He called Alionushka before him and questioned her about everything; she pleased him and he wanted to marry her. Soon they celebrated their wedding and began to live together, and the kid lived with them; he walked in the garden and ate and drank with the king and queen.

  One day the king went hunting. While he was away a sorceress came and cast a spell on the queen; Alionushka fell ill and became thin and pale. Everything became gloomy at the king’s palace; the flowers in the garden began to fade, the trees to dry, and the grass to wither. The king returned and asked the queen: “Are you sick?” “Yes, I am sick,” answered the queen. Next day the king again went hunting. Alionushka lay ill; the sorceress came to her and said: “Do you want me to heal you? Go to such and such a sea at twilight and drink water there.” The queen heeded her and at twilight went to that sea. The sorceress was waiting for her, seized her, tied a stone around her neck, and cast her into the sea. Alionushka sank to the bottom; the kid ran to the shore and wept bitterly. But the sorceress turned herself into the likeness of the queen and went back to the palace.

  The king came home and was overjoyed to find that the queen was well again. They set the table and began to dine. “But where is the kid?” asked the king. “We don’t want him with us,” said the sorceress. “I gave orders that he be shut out; he has a goatlike smell.” Next day, as soon as the king went hunting, the sorceress beat and beat the kid and threatened: “When the king returns I will ask him to slaughter you.” The king returned and the sorceress begged him over and over again to have the kid slaughtered. “I am annoyed with him, I am tired of him,” she said. The king pitied the kid, but there was nothing to be done; the queen insisted and urged him so much that in the end he consented and gave leave to have the kid slaughtered. The kid saw that steel knives were being sharpened for him, and he wept. He ran to the king and implored him: “King, give me leave to go to the sea, to drink water, to rinse my insides.” The king let him go. The kid ran to the sea, stood on the shore, and cried plaintively:

  Alionushka, my little sister,

  Come up, come up to the shore.

  Hot fires are burning,

  Big kettles are boiling,

  Steel knives are being sharpened—

  They want to slaughter me!

  She answered him:

  Ivanushka, my little brother,

  The heavy stone is pulling me down,

  The cruel serpent has sucked out my heart.

  The kid wept and returned home. In the middle of the day he again asked the king: “King, give me leave to go to the sea, to drink water and rinse my insides.” The king allowed him to go. The kid ran to the sea and cried plaintively:

  Alionushka, my little sister,

  Come up, come up to the shore.

  Hot fires are burning,

  Big kettles are boiling,

  Steel knives are being sharpened—

  They want to slaughter me!

  She answered him:

  Ivanushka, my little brother,

  The heavy stone is pulling me down,

  The cruel serpent has sucked out my heart.

  The kid wept and returned home. The king wondered why the kid kept running to the sea. Now the kid asked him for the third time: “King, give me leave to go to the sea, to drink water and rinse my insides.” The king let him go and followed him. When he came to the sea he heard the kid calling to his sister:

  Alionushka, my little sister,

  Come up, come up to the shore.

  Hot fires are burning,

  Big kettles are boiling,

  Steel knives are being sharpened—

  They want to slaughter me!

  She answered him:

  Ivanushka, my little brother,

  The heavy stone is pulling me down,

  The cruel serpent has sucked out my heart.

  The kid again called to his sister. Alionushka swam up and came to the surface. The king snatched her, tore the stone from her neck, pulled her ashore, and asked her how all this had happened. She told him everything. The king was overjoyed and so also was the kid; he capered, and everything in the garden grew green and blossomed again. The king ordered the sorceress to be put to death; a stake of wood was set up in the courtyard and she was burned. After that the king, the queen, and the kid began to live happily and to prosper and to eat and drink together as before.

  THE SEVEN SEMYONS

  A WEALTHY OLD PEASANT had neither son nor daughter; he began to pray to God that he send him at least one child to rejoice him in his lifetime and succeed him after his death. One day seven sons were born to him and they were all called Semyon. God did not grant it to them to grow up under the care of their father and mother; the Semyons were left orphans. Now, it is well known what an orphan’s life is: although he is little and has not yet a man’s wisdom, he will follow every trail, try every task. And so it was with the Semyons. When harvest time came, people busied themselves, they mowed and reaped and brought grain to the threshing barn, and then the earth had to be plowed up and winter grain had to be sown. The Semyons thought and thought, and although they had no strength, they went with the people to the wide fields and dug there like worms. The tsar drove by and was surprised to see little children working beyond their strength. He called them to him, began to question them, and learned that they had neither father nor mother. “I will be your father,” said the tsar. “Tell me, what trade you wish to practice?” The eldest Semyon answered: “Sire, I will be a smith and I will forge a pillar such as no tongue can tell of nor pen describe. It will almost reach the sky.”

  “And I,” answered the second Semyon, “will climb that pillar and look around in all directions, and tell you what is going on in foreign lands and kingdoms.” The tsar praised him. The third Semyon answered: “I will be a shipwright and make a ship.” “Good!” The fourth said: “I will steer the ship and be her helmsman.” “Good.” The fifth said: “And I, if need be, will take the ship by its prow and hide it on the bottom of the sea.” The sixth said: “And if need be, I will bring it back from the bottom of the sea.” “All of you want to be useful people,” said the tsar. “But you,” he went on, turning to the youngest, “what trade do you want to learn?” “Sire, I will be a thief.” “Oh, that is an evil project! I need no thieves, I will put a thief to death.” The sovereign said farewell to the children and left, having bound the Semyons as apprentices. After a long time they grew up and learned the trades they had chosen; the sovereign summoned them to him to try their skill, test their art, and examine their learning.

  The blacksmith forged such a pillar that if you threw your head back to look at its top your neck hurt, for it almost reached the sky. The tsar praised him. The second brother climbed to the top of the pillar as quickly as a squirrel and looked in all directions; all the lands and kingdoms were open before him, and he began to tell what was happening in them. “And in such and such a land, in such and such a kingdom,” he said, “there lives Princess Elena the Fair, of such a beauty as has never before been seen: blood red color spreads on her face, white down spreads on her breast, and one can see how her marrow flows from bone to bone.” The tsar liked that best of all. The third brother hammered—bing bang!—and built a ship as beautiful as a house. The tsar was overjoyed. The fourth brother began to steer the ship; the ship ran on the sea like a live fish. The tsar
was highly pleased. The fifth seized the ship in full flight, pulled it by the prow, and it went to the bottom of the sea. In one minute the sixth brother pulled it back from the bottom of the sea, like a light boat, and the ship was afloat again as though nothing had happened. The tsar liked this trick too.

  But for the youngest brother, the thief, a gallows was erected and a noose was made. The tsar asked him: “Are you as skilled in your trade as your brothers are in theirs?” “I am even more skillful than they.” He was about to be strung up on the gallows when he cried: “Wait, Your Majesty! Perhaps I will be useful to you. Order me to steal Elena the Fair for you; but let my brothers come with me. I will sail with them in the new ship, and Princess Elena will be yours.” The tsar could not get Elena the Fair out of his head, he had heard much good about her, and his heart yearned for her; but she lived far away, beyond the thrice ninth land, in the thrice tenth kingdom. The thief’s project seemed good; although one could not rely on his courage, one could try him, thought the tsar. So he gave leave to the thief and his brothers to sail, and the new ship was laden with riches of every description.

  Whether they sailed for a long time or a short time is not known, but they finally arrived in the kingdom where Princess Elena the Fair lived. It was not necessary to tell the thief what to say and how to go about his business. He found out everything. Having learned that there were no cats in that land, he dressed as a merchant and took a kitten with him; stroking and caressing it, he led it on a golden cord past the window of Elena the Fair. The princess saw the pretty little beast, liked it, and ordered it to be bought for her. The thief answered that he was a wealthy merchant, that he had come from the wealthiest kingdom, bringing all kinds of rarities and jewels, and that he wished to show his good will to Elena the Fair by giving her the kitten as a gift. The thief was invited to the palace; the cat performed various tricks and the princess admired them. The thief spoke so much about his extraordinary rarities, brought and spread before her such marvelous cloths, such magnificent finery, that she could not take her eyes away from them.

  “But this is nothing compared to what I still have,” he said. “These things I can show to anyone, whoever wants can buy them. But you, princess, would you like to see a priceless treasure that no one has seen? It is aboard my ship under heavy guard and I will show it only to you. It replaces fire by night and the sun by day, and illumines every dark spot with a marvelous light. It is a stone of extraordinary beauty; and I cannot take it out—to show it would be to doom myself, for everyone would want to possess it. I paid a high price to get it; but even dearer to me is the favor of my tsar, to whom I am bringing this marvel as a gift.” The princess promised to visit the ship and look at the treasure.

  Next day, accompanied by nurses, governesses, and maids-in-waiting, she went from the palace to the ship. All her retinue remained on shore; only Elena was to be allowed to see the marvelous light of the incomparable stone. Everything had been prepared for her reception; the other Semyons were there to help, and as soon as she was aboard ship, the fifth brother seized the ship by the prow and brought it down to the bottom of the sea. The water seethed and swirled, and then the waves rolled as before, as though nothing had happened; only on shore the nurses and governesses and maids-in-waiting wailed and wept, and the king, Elena’s father, sent men in pursuit of the princess. But they all returned empty-handed. Elena the Fair sailed far on the blue sea. The sixth brother brought the ship back to the surface; it sailed like a swan rolling on the waves, and soon came to the shores of the Semyons’ native land. The tsar was overjoyed; he had not even dreamed of ever receiving Elena the Fair in his own house. He generously rewarded the Semyons, exempted them from land rent and head taxes; and he married Elena the Fair and gave a feast for all to enjoy.

  I walked a thousand versts only to be there. I drank beer and mead; it ran down my mustache but did not go into my mouth. I was given a horse made of ice, a saddle of turnip, and a bridle of peas; a flowing robe was put on my back and an embroidered cap on my head. I went forth in all this attire and stopped to rest; I removed the saddle and the bridle, tied the horse to a tree, and lay down on the grass. Suddenly pigs came and ate the saddle of turnip; chickens came and pecked the bridle of peas; the sun rose and melted the horse of ice. Grieved, I continued on foot. As I walked along the road, a magpie jumped to my side and cawed: “Flowing robe, flowing robe!” I fancied that she said, “Throw the robe,” so I removed it and threw it away. “And do I need the embroidered cap?” I thought. I snatched it off and threw it down, and, as you can see, was left with nothing at all.

  THE MERCHANT’S DAUGHTER AND THE SLANDERER

  ONCE THERE WAS a merchant who had two children, a daughter and a son. When the merchant was on his deathbed (his wife had been taken to the graveyard before him) he said: “My children, live well with each other, in love and concord, just as I lived with your deceased mother.” Then he died. He was buried and prayers were said for the repose of his soul, as is fitting. Shortly afterward, the merchant’s son decided to trade beyond the sea; he rigged up three ships, loaded them with a variety of goods, and said to his sister: “Now, my beloved sister, I am going on a long voyage and leaving you at home all alone; mind you, behave properly, do not engage in evil things, and do not consort with strangers.” Then they exchanged portraits; the sister took her brother’s portrait, the brother took his sister’s. They wept as they took leave of each other and said farewell.

  The merchant’s son raised anchor, pushed off from shore, hoisted sail, and reached the open sea. He sailed for one year, he sailed for another year, and in the third year he came to a certain wealthy capital and anchored his ships in the port. As soon as he arrived he took a bowl full of precious stones and rolls of his best velvet, damask, and satin, and took them to the king of those parts as a gift. He came to the palace, gave his gift to the king, and petitioned for leave to trade in his capital. The precious gift was to the king’s liking and he said to the merchant’s son: “Your gift is munificent; in all my life I have never received a finer one. In return I grant you the first place on the market. Buy and sell, fear no one, and if anyone injures you, come straight to me. Tomorrow I myself will visit your ship.”

  Next day the king came to the merchant’s son, began to walk on his ship and examine his goods, and in the master’s cabin saw a portrait hanging on the wall. He asked the merchant’s son: “Whose portrait is that?” “My sister’s, Your Majesty.” “Well, Mr. Merchant, such a beauty I have not seen in all my days. Tell me the truth: what is her character and what are her manners?” “She is quiet and chaste as a dove.” “Well, if so, she will be a queen; I will take her to wife.” At that time, a certain general who was spiteful and envious was with the king; at the thought that anyone else might find happiness he choked with rage.

  He heard the king’s words and became terribly angry. “Now,” he thought, “our wives will have to bow to a woman of the merchant class!” He could not restrain himself and said to the king: “Your Majesty, do not order me to be put to death, order me to speak.” “Speak.” “This merchant’s daughter is not a suitable match for you; I met her long ago, and more than once I lay on the bed and played amorous games with her; she is quite a dissolute girl.” “How can you, foreign merchant, say that she is quiet and chaste as a dove, and that she never engages in evil things?” “Your Majesty, if the general is not lying, let him get my sister’s ring from her and find out what is her secret mark.” “Very well,” said the king, and he gave the general a furlough. “If you fail to get the ring and tell me the secret mark by such and such a day, your head shall fall by my sword.”

  The general made ready and went to the town where the merchant’s daughter lived; he arrived and did not know what to do. He walked back and forth in the streets, low in spirits and thoughtful. He happened to meet an old woman who begged for alms; he gave her something. She asked: “What are you thinking about?” “Why should I tell you? You cannot help me in my trouble.�
�� “Who knows? Perhaps I can help you.” “Do you know where such and such a merchant’s daughter lives?” “Of course I do.” “If so, get me her ring and find out what is her secret mark; if you do this for me, I shall reward you with gold.” The old woman hobbled to the merchant’s daughter, knocked at her door, said that she was going to the Holy Land, and asked for alms. She spoke so cunningly that the lovely maiden became quite bewitched and did not realize that she had blurted out where her secret mark was; and while all this talk was going on, the old woman slipped the girl’s ring from the table and hid it in her sleeve. Then she said farewell to the merchant’s daughter and ran to the general. She gave him the ring and said: “Her secret mark is a golden hair under her left arm.”