by Unknown
Katya finished the plaques. She marvelled once again at what a fine stone she had found, and then began thinking about where to sell her wares. Prokopich had sometimes taken trifles like this to town and delivered them all to one shop. Katya had often heard about this shop. So she decided to travel to town. ‘I’ll go and ask,’ she said to herself. ‘Maybe they’ll take my work regularly.’
She locked up the hut and set out on foot. No one in Polevskoy even noticed that she had left. Arriving in town, Katya asked where the shop was and went straight there. She looked around: the place was crammed with stone objects of every kind, and there was an entire glass case full of malachite plaques. The shop was crowded with people. Some were buying, others were bringing their wares. The shopkeeper seemed stiff and haughty.
At first Katya felt too frightened to approach him, but then she plucked up her courage and asked, ‘Do you need any malachite plaques?’
The shopkeeper pointed to the glass case: ‘Malachite plaques! Can’t you see how many I’ve got?’
The other craftsmen delivering their work joined in: ‘Any number of folk have started making plaques recently. The stone just gets wasted. What they don’t realize is that to make a plaque you need a good pattern.’
One of the craftsmen was from Polevskoy. He said in a quiet voice to the shopkeeper: ‘She’s a bit nutty, this girl. Her neighbours have seen her working at the lathe. Seems she’s managed to knock something out …’
So the shopkeeper said: ‘Right then, show me what you’ve brought.’
Katya handed him a plaque. The shopkeeper looked at it, then stared straight at Katya and said, ‘Who did you steal it from?’
Katya, needless to say, felt insulted. In a very different tone, she said, ‘What right do you have to speak like that to someone you don’t even know? Look – if you’re not blind! Who could I possibly have stolen this number of plaques from, all with the same pattern? Answer me that!’ And she emptied all her wares onto the counter.
The shopkeeper and craftsmen looked at the plaques: they did indeed all share the same pattern. And the pattern was exquisite. In the centre there was a tree; there was a little bird perched on one of the branches, and another little bird below, all crystal clear and cleanly finished. The customers heard them all talking and drew closer to have a look, but the shopkeeper quickly covered up all the plaques and said, ‘You can’t see anything when they’re all in a jumble. Wait a moment and I’ll put them on display. Then you’ll be able to choose what you want.’ And to Katya he said, ‘Go through that door. I’ll pay you straight away.’
Katya went through, and the shopkeeper followed. He locked the door and said, ‘What are you asking for them?’
Katya had heard Prokopich mention how much he used to get. So she named the same price. The shopkeeper just laughed: ‘You must be kidding! I only ever paid that much to a craftsman from Polevskoy, Prokopich, and his adopted son Danilko. Well, and they were true masters!’
‘That’s how I know the price,’ she replied. ‘I’m from the same family.’
‘Oh, I see!’ the shopkeeper said in surprise. ‘So this is Danilko’s work, is it?’
‘No,’ she replied, ‘it’s my own work.’
‘But he left you the stone?’
‘I found it myself.’
The shopkeeper clearly did not believe her, but he didn’t try to beat down the price. He paid up, fair and square, and he even said, ‘If you make any more like these, be sure to bring them to me. I’ll take them straight away and I’ll always give you a good price.’
Katya went out of the shop overjoyed, thinking she’d been given a fortune. The shopkeeper put the plaques on display. The customers came crowding round: ‘How much are they?’
The shopkeeper, of course, had known what he was doing. Naming a price ten times higher than he’d paid Katya, he announced, ‘Never been a pattern like it. It is the work of Danilko the master from Polevskoy. There’s no one can match him.’
Katya got back home. ‘Well, who’d have thought it?’ she kept marvelling. ‘My plaques turned out the best of the lot! It was a fine piece of stone I found. What a stroke of luck!’ Then it dawned on her: ‘Could it have been Danilushko sending me a message?’
And she got herself ready and left for Snake Hill.
But the malachite master who had tried to embarrass Katya in front of the town trader had also got back from the town. He envied Katya the rare pattern she had found. ‘I ought to find out where she gets her stone from. Maybe Prokopich or Danilko told her about some new site!’
He saw Katya hurrying off somewhere, and he followed her. He watched her skirt around Gumeshki and make her way somewhere behind Snake Hill. The craftsman continued to follow her, thinking, ‘On that side it’s all forest. I’ll be able to creep right up to this new pit of hers.’
They entered the forest. Katya was only a short way ahead and she had relaxed her guard; she wasn’t listening out or looking around her. The craftsman was delighted: without the least effort he was about to discover a new source of stone. And then all of a sudden there was a noise nearby – the craftsman even took fright. He stood stock still: what had it been? While he was trying to work this out, Katya disappeared. The craftsman ran every which way through the forest, until he finally emerged at Seversky Pond, well over a mile from Gumeshki.
Katya had no idea that anyone had been spying on her. She climbed the hill and reached the spot where she had found the first stone. The hollow seemed a little bigger now, and at its edge there was a stone just like the first one. Katya shook it about, and it came loose. Once again, there was a noise like a branch snapping. Katya picked up the stone and then she began sobbing and wailing, much as women weep and wail over the dead. ‘O my true love, my heart’s desire …’ she called out through her tears. ‘Who did you leave me for?’
After she had finished lamenting, her pain seemed to ease a little, and she stood in thought, looking in the direction of the mine. She seemed to be in some kind of a clearing. All around her the forest was dense and tall, but over towards the mine the trees were thinner. The sun must have been about to set. On the floor of the clearing darkness was creeping in from the forest, but over towards the mine there was still sunlight. The place was ablaze, and the stones were all shining.
Katya was intrigued. She wanted to get closer. She took a step, and something crunched underfoot. She drew her foot away, looked down – and saw that there was no ground beneath her feet. She was standing on some kind of tall tree, on its very crown. All around her were the tops of other trees. Down below, in the gaps between the trees, she could see plants and flowers, and they were nothing like the kind we have in our parts.
Anyone else in Katya’s shoes would have taken fright. They would have started screaming and shrieking, but Katya had only one thought: ‘It’s happened! The mountain’s opened up! Oh, if only I could see Danilushko!’
No sooner had she thought this than, down below her, through the gaps in the trees, she saw someone who looked like Danilushko, and he was stretching his arms up towards her and he seemed to be wanting to say something. Everything went dark and Katya leaped towards him – from the top of the tree!
She fell to the ground just where she had been standing. On coming to, she said to herself, ‘So I really have started seeing things. I’d better go back home straight away.’
She knew she should go, but she just sat there, hoping the mountain might open again, hoping to catch another glimpse of Danilushko. There she sat until it was quite dark. Only then did she set off back home, thinking, ‘Well, it’s really happened! I’ve seen Danilushko!’
The craftsman who’d been spying on Katya had already got back. He checked Katya’s hut – and found it locked. So he hid by the side of the path, hoping to see what she’d bring back with her. As Katya approached, he stepped out and barred her way. ‘Where have you been?’ he asked.
‘To Snake Hill,’ she replied.
‘At night? Why?’
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‘To see Danilko.’
The craftsman shied away in fear. The following day the entire town was talking and whispering about her: ‘Corpse-Bride really has gone crazy now. She goes to Snake Hill in the middle of the night to wait for a dead man. In the state she’s in she could end up setting fire to the town.’
Once again her brothers and sisters hurried round and began nagging at Katya and trying to talk sense into her. Only she wouldn’t listen to them. She just showed them the money and said, ‘Where do you think I found this? They turn down work from good craftsmen, but look what they paid me for my very first piece of work! How do you explain that then?’
The brothers had heard about her good fortune. One of them said, ‘You had a stroke of luck. I don’t see what’s so very strange about that.’
‘Luck like that doesn’t happen,’ she replied. ‘It was Danilko himself who planted the stone and drew the pattern on it.’ The brothers laughed, and the sisters once again flapped their hands about excitedly: ‘Now she’s well and truly lost her wits! We’d better tell the steward. Maybe she really will go and set fire to the town!’
Of course, they didn’t tell the steward at all. They’d have felt ashamed to betray their own sister. But as they left Katya’s house, they agreed to keep an eye on her. They decided that one of them would have to follow her wherever she went.
Katya saw her relatives out, locked the door and began sawing the new stone. As she worked, she told herself, ‘If this stone turns out as good as the last one, then I’ll know it wasn’t a dream, and that I really did see Danilushko.’
She worked as fast as she could. She couldn’t wait to see how the pattern would turn out. It was the dead of night, but she remained at the workbench. One of her sisters woke up, saw a light in the hut, ran to the window, peeked through a chink in the shutter and said in amazement, ‘She doesn’t even sleep! What a curse the girl is!’
Katya finished sawing the first slab: there was a pattern! And it was even better than on the first stone. A bird was flying down from a tree, its wings spread, while another bird was flying from below to meet it. The pattern was repeated five times. And there were clear marks showing her where to make the crosswise cuts. Katya didn’t pause to think. She just leaped to her feet and dashed off. Her sister followed, knocking at her brothers’ doors as she ran by, urging them to hurry. The brothers came running; other people joined them. By then it was already growing light. They saw Katya running past Gumeshki. Everyone rushed after her. It was clear she didn’t know she was being followed. She ran past the mine, and then slowed her pace a little as she skirted Snake Hill. The crowd held back a little, waiting to see what she would do next.
Katya walked up the hill, just as she had done before. She looked up: all around her now she could see a wondrous forest. She touched a tree. It was cold and smooth like polished stone. The grass underfoot was also of stone, and it was still dark everywhere. ‘I must have found my way into the mountain,’ Katya said to herself.
By then everyone else had become thoroughly terrified: ‘Where’s she vanished to? A moment ago she was right here, and now she’s gone!’
They all started rushing about. Some went up the hill, some walked around it. Everyone was calling out, ‘Can you see her anywhere? Can you see her?’
Katya, meanwhile, was walking through the stone forest, wondering how she could find Danilko. She walked and walked, and then she called out, ‘Danilko, answer me!’
Something stirred in the forest. The boughs seemed to be rapping out: ‘Not here! Not here! He’s not here!’ Only Katya didn’t give up. ‘Danilko, answer me!’ she called again.
The forest answered once again: ‘Not here! Not here! He’s not here!’
Katya called out a third time: ‘Danilko, answer me!’
And then there she was – standing in front of Katya – the Mistress of the Mountain herself! ‘What are you doing in my forest?’ she asked. ‘What do you want? Are you looking for a good stone? Take any stone you like – and then leave!’
‘I don’t want any of your dead stone!’ replied Katya. ‘Give me my living Danilushko. Where are you hiding him? What right do you have to lure away a man who’s already betrothed?’
She was a brave lass. She went straight for the jugular – and with the Mistress right there in front of her! The Mistress, however, was unruffled. ‘Is there anything else you want to say?’ she asked.
‘Yes – give me back my Danilko! I know you’ve got him here …’
The Mistress broke into laughter and said, ‘You foolish girl, don’t you know who you’re speaking to?’
‘Of course I do,’ she shouted, ‘I’m not blind. But I’m not afraid of you, you home-wrecker! Not in the least! No matter how clever you’ve made things down here, all the same Danilko yearns for me. I know it – I’ve seen him. Understand?’
The Mistress replied, ‘Let’s hear what Danilko himself has to say.’
Until then the forest had been in darkness, but now it seemed to come alive. It became light. The grass underfoot was ablaze with coloured lights, and each tree was more beautiful than the next. Through the gaps between the trees Katya could see a clearing, and in it were stone flowers, and above them, like sparks of fire, were golden bees. It was all so beautiful that you could gaze for a hundred years and still not gaze your fill. And there in the forest was Danilko. He was running straight towards her. Katya leaped towards him:
‘Danilushko!’
‘Wait,’ said the Mistress. And then she asked: ‘Well, master Danilko, the choice is yours. If you go with her, you will forget all that is mine; if you stay here you must forget about her and everyone else too. Which is it to be?’
‘I cannot forget about other people,’ he answered, ‘and not a minute goes by without me thinking of Katya.’
The Mistress smiled brightly and said, ‘You’ve won, Katerina! Take your master craftsman. And for being so brave and steadfast, I shall give you a gift. Let all that is mine remain in Danilko’s memory. Everything except this – which he must completely forget!’ And the clearing with its miraculous flowers suddenly faded away – like a light that has been extinguished. The Mistress pointed them in the right direction and added, ‘Danilko, don’t tell anyone about the mountain. Say that you went to study with a distant master. And you, Katerina, don’t think for one moment that I lured your betrothed away. He came of his own accord, in search of what he has now forgotten.’
At this Katya bowed and said, ‘Forgive me my rough words!’
‘That’s all right,’ she answered. ‘How can they hurt a woman who is made of stone! I’m telling you for your own sake, so that the two of you may live without discord.’
Katya and Danilko set off through the forest. It grew darker and darker, and the ground underfoot became more and more pitted and rugged. They looked around and saw they were at the Gumeshki mine. It was still early, and there was no one about. They quietly made their way home. All the people who had gone after Katya were still wandering about the forest, calling out, ‘Can you see her anywhere? Can you see her?’
They searched and searched but could see no sign of her. Then they went back home – and saw Danilko there in the hut, sitting beside the window.
They took fright, of course. They crossed themselves and recited all kinds of chants and spells. Then they saw that Danilko was filling his pipe. This calmed them down: the dead, after all, do not smoke pipes.
One by one they began walking closer. They saw that Katya was there in the hut too. She was busy at the stove, and she seemed in high spirits. They hadn’t seen her like that in a long time. This emboldened them, and they entered the hut and began asking, ‘Where have you been all this time, Danilko?’
‘I was in Kolyvan,’ he replied. ‘I’d heard about a master stoneworker there, they say he’s the finest there is. Well, I fancied studying a little with him. Old Papa, may he rest in peace, tried to talk me out of it. But I went off without his permission, I told no one
except Katya.’
‘But why did you smash the chalice?’ they asked.
Danilko’s eyes misted over a little. After a while he said, ‘Oh, I don’t know … I came back from the party … Perhaps I’d had too much to drink … The chalice hadn’t turned out like I wanted it, so I went and smashed it. It’s the kind of thing that happens to every craftsman at one time or another. Nothing odd about it.’
Then the brothers and sisters started questioning Katya: why hadn’t she told them about Kolyvan? But there was no getting anything out of Katya. She just said, ‘Well, that’s a bit rich. Didn’t I keep telling you that Danilko was still alive? And what did you do? You all tried to thrust suitors at me and lead me astray! Come and sit at the table. I’ve just baked some eggs.’
And that brought an end to the matter. Everyone sat there for a while, chatting about this and that. Then they went off to their homes. In the evening Danilko went to the steward to announce his return. The steward kicked up a bit of a fuss, of course. But they sorted things out in the end.
Danilko and Katya began living together in a hut of their own. People say that they lived happily and in harmony. Everyone in the trade called Danilko the ‘Mountain Master’. There was no one who could hold a candle to him. And so he and Katya prospered. Only from time to time, Danilko would sink deep into thought. Katya, of course, understood what he was thinking about, but she said nothing.
Golden Hair
It happened in the days of old. Back then there wasn’t a Russian to be seen in these parts. And the Bashkirs lived a good way away, too. They needed open country for their cattle, you see; they needed broad glades and open steppe. They could find all that over by the river Nyazya, and along the Uraim basin, but what good was this part of the world to them? To this day the trees grow tall and thick, but at that time the forest was so dense that you couldn’t even walk through it, let alone ride. The only people who ever entered the forest were the hunters.