In the Suicide Mountains (6 page)

“And why is that, my dear?” asked the abbot with great interest.

She told him her secret, how she was not at all what she seemed but, God help her, mannish—complex and quick of mind and as strong as a gorilla.

“Ah!” said the abbot.

“I too came here to kill myself, originally,” said Chudu the Goat's Son, bleating it really, for pity of himself. “Try as I may I can never persuade anyone that deep down I'm a civilized, decent sort of dwarf, fit to be an alderman—and indeed, perhaps I'm not. Who knows?”

“ ‘Originally,' you say?” the abbot softly prodded.

The dwarf glanced over at Armida in confusion. He would bite off his tongue before he'd shame her by speaking of his love. But the abbot, it seemed, was a man who missed nothing.

“Yes, I see,” he said, gazing thoughtfully at Armida. “That's grave, very grave. And you, Prince Christopher?” He tipped his head to look above his spectacles at the prince.

“That's why I've come too,” said Prince Christopher the Sullen. He was standing by the abbot's mantel, staring moodily into his glass. “I don't care to go into it except to say I'm, as they say, a misfit. I'm a prince by birth, but by inclination I'm an artist. I hide it, naturally, and I admit I'm deeply ashamed of it—”

“You paint?” asked the abbot, sitting forward in his chair.

“I'm a violinist. Also, in a small way a poet.”

“Marvellous!” cried the abbot. “You must play for us a little before you leave. I absolutely insist! And you must recite some of your verses!”

“My,” said Armida, “I didn't realize how
late
it is.”

The abbot laughed aloud. “Something tells me our Armida has been ‘overexposed,' so to speak, to poetry.” He winked slyly at the prince. “Never mind,” he said, “no one can hate poetry indefinitely. It's like trying to think ill of Christmas.”

Then some thought occurred to him that made him frown and purse his lips. He asked, delicately brushing past the slightly awkward word, “This ‘suicide' business: you're not planning to do it tonight, I trust?”

“Actually,” Armida began, wringing her hands…

“No no, really!” the abbot insisted. “Not tonight, I beg you! Keep me company awhile. You know how it is, way up here on the mountain. Besides, I want to tell you a story.”

“A story?” the prince echoed, raising one eyebrow but carefully not looking at the abbot for fear of seeming over-eager.

Chapter Eight

The Abbot's First Tale

T
hings are not always what they seem,” said the abbot, and tipped his head and smiled. “The sly man digs down through illusion; he picks up a nugget and cries, reading it: ‘Ah ha! No man does anything for another man except for personal gain!', and on the back: ‘The witch was an innocent child once; the good man, a witch.' Poor fool! The nugget itself is an illusion, and all the nuggets he stands on (so triumphant!) with his spade. They will suck him to the hall of the accursèd king and we will hear nothing more of him.

“In a certain kingdom, in a certain land, there lived a rich merchant who had a beautiful five-year-old daughter by the name of Anastasya. The merchant's name was Marco the Rich, and one thing he could not abide, among many, was beggars. Whenever they came begging at his window he would shake his fist and order his servants to drive them away and loose the dogs upon them.

“One day two gray-headed old men came begging at his window. Anastasya, who was familiar with her father's ways, wept for pity of the two old men and began to implore her father: ‘Dear father, for my sake at least let them shelter in the cattle shed.' The father consented and ordered the beggars to be shown there.

“When everyone in the house was asleep, Anastasya rose up and went to the cattle shed, where she climbed up into the loft to watch the beggars. When the time came for morning prayers, the candle beneath the ikon came alight by itself, the old men rose up, took priestly vestments out of their bags, put them on, and began their service. An angel of God came flying through the window and said, ‘In such and such a village, a son is born to such and such a peasant. What shall his name be, and what shall be his fortune?' One of the old men said, ‘I give him the name of Vasily the Luckless, and I hereby present him with all the wealth of Marco the Rich, in whose cattle shed we are spending the night.' All this Anastasya heard. Now that it was daybreak, the old men made ready to leave the cattle shed. Anastasya went to her father and told him everything she had seen and heard.

“The father decided to see if a babe had indeed been born in such and such village. He had his carriage harnessed, went straight to the priest of the village, and asked him, ‘Was a babe born in your village on such and such a day?' ‘Yes, a babe was born to our poorest peasant. I christened him “Vasily” and surnamed him “the Luckless,” but I have not yet baptized him because no one will stand as godfather to such a poor man's child.' Marco offered to stand as godfather, asked the priest's wife to be godmother, and bade them prepare a rich feast. The little boy was brought to the church and baptized, and everyone feasted and sang to his heart's content.

“One day passed and then another, and on the third day Marco the Rich summoned the poor peasant, spoke to him kindly, and said, ‘Friend, you are a poor man, you will never be able to bring up your son. Give him to me, then, and I will help him to rise in the world, and I will give you a thousand rubles.' The poor man thought and thought and at last consented. Marco gave him the thousand rubles, took the child, wrapped him in fox furs, put him on the seat of his carriage, and drove away. It was winter. When they had driven several miles, Marco bade his coachman stop, handed him the godchild, and said: ‘Take him by the legs and hurl him into the ravine.' The coachman did as he was ordered and hurled the child into a deep ravine. ‘Now, Vasily,' said Marco, ‘take my wealth if you can!' And he drove home.

“The following day, some merchants came driving down this same road. They were carrying twelve thousand rubles they owed Marco the Rich. When they came near the ravine they heard the wailing of a child, and they stopped, listened, and sent a servant to see what it could be. The servant went down into the ravine and beheld a soft green meadow, and in the middle of the meadow a child sat, playing with flowers and whimpering. The servant told all this to his master, who went to the ravine himself, took the child, wrapped him in a fur coat, returned to his carriage, and drove on. The merchants came to Marco the Rich, who asked them where they'd found the child. ‘In a meadow at the bottom of a ravine,' said the merchants, and Marco guessed at once that it was Vasily the Luckless, his own godchild. He took the boy in his arms, dandled him for a time, then gave him to his daughter, saying, ‘Take this boy, my daughter, and see to his comfort.'

“Then he plied the merchants with all kinds of drink and asked them to let him keep the child, seeing he'd grown so fond of it. The merchants at first refused, but when Marco told them that he would cancel their debt, they consented and left. Anastasya was so overjoyed that she immediately found a cradle, hung curtains around it, and began to tend to the babe, never leaving him by night or day. One day went by, then another. On the third day Marco came home when Anastasya was asleep, took the child, put him into a barrel, tarred it, and threw it into the harbor.

“The world rolled on, and the barrel sailed one week and then another, till finally it floated up against the bank of a monastery. A monk happened to be fetching water. He heard the wailing of a child, and when he looked about him, saw the barrel. He immediately took a boat, caught up the barrel, broke it open, and found the child. He brought the babe to his abbot. The abbot decided he would name the child ‘Vasily,' and he gave it the surname ‘the Luckless.' Vasily the Luckless lived in the monastery for sixteen years and learned how to read and write. The abbot loved him and made him his sacristan.

“Now it came to pass that Marco the Rich was traveling to a foreign kingdom to collect some debts that were owed him, and on his way he stopped at this same monastery. He was received as befits a rich man. The abbot ordered the sacristan to go to the church. He went, lighted the candles, and read and sang. Marco the Rich asked the abbot: ‘Has this young man been with you long?' The abbot told him how the boy had been found in a barrel, and when. Marco reckoned the time and realized that the sacristan was his godchild. He said: ‘If I had an intelligent young man like your sacristan, I would appoint him chief clerk and put him in charge of all my treasure. My friend, you must give him to me.' For a long time the abbot made excuses. Finally, Marco offered him twenty-five thousand rubles for the benefit of his monastery. The abbot consulted the brothers, and after long deliberation they consented to part with Vasily the Luckless.

“Marco sent Vasily home and gave him a letter to his wife. The letter read: ‘Wife, when you receive this letter, take its bearer to our soap works, and when you pass near the great boiling cauldron, push him in. Do not fail to do this, or I shall punish you severely, for this youth has evil designs on me and, if he survives, will be my ruin.' Vasily took the letter and went on his way. He met an old man who said, ‘Where are you bound, Vasily the Luckless?' Vasily said: ‘To the house of Marco the Rich, with a letter to his wife.' ‘Show me this letter,' said the old man. Vasily took it out and gave it to the old man, who broke the seal and asked Vasily to read it. Vasily read it and burst into tears. ‘What have I done to this man,' he said, ‘that he should send me to my death?' The old man said: ‘Do not grieve, my child. God will not forsake you.' Then he breathed on the letter and the seal resumed its former shape. ‘Go,' said the old man, ‘and deliver the letter to the wife of Marco the Rich.'

“Vasily came to the house of Marco the Rich and gave the letter to his wife. She read it, pondered deeply, then called her daughter Anastasya and read Marco's letter to her. This is what the letter now said: ‘Wife, one day after you receive this letter, marry Anastasya to the bearer. Do this without fail, otherwise you shall answer to me.' The next day Vasily was dressed in rich garments, shown to Anastasya, and she found him to her liking. So they were married.

“One day the wife of Marco the Rich was told that her husband had arrived in port, and accompanied by her son-in-law and daughter she went to meet him. Marco looked at his son-in-law, fell into a rage, and said to his wife: ‘How dared you wed our daughter to this man?' ‘By your command,' answered she. Marco asked to see his letter, read it, and found that it was written in his hand.

“Marco lived with his son-in-law for one month, a second, and a third. One day he summoned the young man before him and said to him, ‘Take this letter beyond thrice nine lands, to the thrice tenth kingdom, to my friend King Dragon. Collect from him twelve years' rent for the palace he has built on my land, and find out what has happened to twelve of my ships that have not been seen these three years. Set out on your way tomorrow morning.' Vasily took the letter, went to his wife, and told her what Marco had commanded. Anastasya wept bitterly but dared not ask her father to change his mind.

“Early next morning Vasily prayed to God, took some biscuits in his knapsack, and set out. He walked the road for a long time or a short time, a long way or a short, let wise men judge; and as he was traveling he heard a voice at the side of the road saying: ‘Vasily the Luckless, where are you bound?' Vasily looked around him on all sides and said: ‘Who is calling me?' ‘I, the oak, am asking you where you are going.' ‘I am going to King Dragon to collect rent for twelve years.' The oak said: ‘If you arrive in time, remember to ask how much longer the oak must stand after standing for three hundred winters.'

“Vasily listened carefully and continued on his journey. He came to a river and sat in a ferryboat. The old ferryman asked him: ‘Where are you bound, my friend?' Vasily told him what he had told the oak. And the ferryman requested him to ask King Dragon how much longer he would have to ferry, for he had been ferrying for thirty winters. ‘I shall ask him,' said Vasily. He went on and reached the sea. A whale lay stretched out across the sea and people were walking and driving over her. When Vasily stepped on the whale, she said, ‘Vasily the Luckless, where are you bound?' Vasily told her what he had told the ferryman and the oak, and the whale said, ‘If you arrive in time, remember to ask how much longer I must lie here stretched across the sea, for people on foot and people on horseback have worn down my body to my ribs.'

“Vasily promised to ask and went on. He came to a green meadow; in the meadow stood a palace. Vasily entered the palace and went from room to room. Each was more splendid than the last. He went into the farthest room and found a lovely maiden sitting on the bed and weeping bitterly. When she saw Vasily, she rose up, kissed him, and said, ‘Who are you and how did you happen to come to this accursèd place?' Vasily showed her the letter and told her that Marco the Rich had ordered him to collect twelve years' rent from King Dragon. The maiden threw the letter into the stove and said to Vasily, ‘Fool, you have been sent here not to collect rent but as dragon's food. But tell me, what roads did you take? Did you see or hear anything on your way?' Vasily told her about the oak, the ferryman, and the whale. They had no sooner finished talking than the earth and the palace began to rumble. The maiden put Vasily into a chest under the bed and said to him, ‘Now listen to my conversation with the dragon.' And saying this she went out to meet her lord.

“When King Dragon entered the room, he said: ‘Why is there a Russian smell here?' The maiden said: ‘How could a Russian smell get here? You have been flying over Russia and the smell is in your nostrils.' The dragon said: ‘I am terribly exhausted. Pick the lice in my head.' And he lay down. The maiden said to him: ‘King, what a dream I had while you were away! I was going along a road, and an oak cried to me: ‘Ask the king how long I must stand here!' ‘It will stand,' said King Dragon, ‘until someone comes and kicks it with his foot; then it will be uprooted and will fall, and beneath it there is gold and silver—Marco the Rich does not have as much.'