Russian Magic Tales from Pushkin to Platonov (Penguin Classics) (14 page)

This gladdened the tsar. He ordered his son to be given the best horse in the stables. The horse was saddled and bridled, and the brave lad rode off into open steppe.

He rode till he came to a pillar, and on the pillar was written:

‘He who takes the road to the right will eat well, but his horse will go hungry. He who takes the road to the left, he himself will go hungry, but his horse will eat well. And he who takes the middle road will lay his head on the executioner’s block.’

Fyodor Tsarevich thought for a while, then took the road to the right.

And he came to a copper mountain. He dismounted, left his horse at the foot of the mountain and climbed up. He wandered about the mountain but he could find nothing there except a copper snake, a most beautiful snake made of copper. And he put it in his pocket and returned to his own country.

And he returned to his father. He went into his father’s private chambers and showed him this copper snake.

But his father was very angry, and he said only, ‘What filth have you brought? It could destroy our tsardom!’

And the tsar remained angry for a long time.

But then, as he was walking about the garden, the tsar began to feel merry again. He gave orders for a feast to be prepared, and for there to be dancing.

And everyone at the feast got drunk.

Amid this merriment the tsar stood up and said, ‘My counts and generals! Although my children are now all fully grown, none of them has yet proved able to gather my flowers and follow my footsteps!’

Dmitry Tsarevich stepped forward, bowed to his father and said, ‘Give me your blessing, father, to gather your flowers and follow your footsteps.’

This gladdened the tsar. He ordered his son to be given the best horse in the stables.

The son mounted the horse and rode off into open steppe.

And he rode through open steppe and rode till he came to a pillar, and on the pillar was written:

‘He who takes the road to the right will eat well, but his horse will go hungry. He who takes the road to the left, he himself will go hungry, but his horse will eat well. And he who takes the middle road will lay his head on the executioner’s block.’

The young man thought, then wept: ‘Where shall I go? I shall take the road to the left. My horse will eat well, and he will carry me out of trouble.’

He rode on – maybe a short way, maybe a long way. He rode until he came to a great mansion. He rode around the mansion and through the gates into the courtyard. There he saw finely turned columns and gilded bridle rings. He tethered his horse, gave him some millet and went up some stairs to the upper rooms. A woman came out to meet him. She hurried towards him and greeted him warmly. The table was covered with all kinds of good food. She told the young man to eat and drink. When he had eaten his fill, she took him to a bed so he could rest. But no sooner had he lain down than the bed tipped over and he flew straight down into a cellar.

The tsar waited a long time for his son to return; he sorrowed for a long time.

Then the tsar ordered a feast to be prepared. He felt merry again, and he said to his counts and generals, ‘My counts and generals! I have brought up three sons. But however diligent they have been, however zealous in the service of our tsardom, not one has yet gathered my flowers and followed my footsteps!’

Then Ivan Tsarevich stepped forward and asked for his father’s blessing.

‘O Ivan Tsarevich, Ivan son of the Tsar! Your brothers were better men than you – and what have they achieved? You’d do better to lie by the stove. Why attempt what you can never achieve?’

This angered Ivan Tsarevich. He said, ‘Father, great lord! If you grant me your blessing and forgiveness, I shall ride away. And if you do not grant me your blessing and forgiveness, away I shall ride.’

And the tsar ordered him to be given the best horse – so he might ride wherever he wished.

The grooms offered him the very best horse of all. But Ivan Tsarevich went and chose the very worst horse of all, the horse that was used only for carrying water. And the brave young prince mounted this horse with his face towards the horse’s tail. All the lords laughed: how could the son of a tsar ride so badly?

Ivan Tsarevich rode into open steppe. Then he seized his horse by the tail, tore off its hide and hung this hide up on a nail.

‘Fly down, magpies and crows! Enjoy the dinner the Lord bestows!’

He roared like a wild beast, then whistled like a dragon. Up galloped a steed whose hooves made our damp Mother Earth tremble. It was breathing flames from its mouth and sparks from its nostrils. Pillars of smoke and fumes rose from its ears and from its arse it was shitting smouldering logs.
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But Ivan Tsarevich took hold of this fine steed and stroked it – and the steed went so quiet that a child of three could have ridden it.

Then Ivan Tsarevich went down into the great deep cellar that his grandfather had given him. He ate and drank his fill and
took his best plaited bridle and Circassian saddle. He harnessed his fine steed and took a sharp sword. Then he sat on his fine steed and rode out into open steppe.

And he rode through open steppe till he came to a pillar, and on the pillar was written:

‘He who takes the road to the right will eat well, but his horse will go hungry. He who takes the road to the left, he himself will go hungry, but his horse will eat well. And he who takes the middle road will lay his head on the executioner’s block.’

The brave young tsarevich wept and thought, ‘Is it not an honour for a fighting man to ride to his fate, though he lay his head on the executioner’s block?’

And off he galloped through open steppe. He had only to raise his hand – and his fine steed left rivers and lakes far beneath its hooves. Its mane whirled in the wind and its tail spread over the earth.

Ivan Tsarevich came to green meadows. There he saw a hut on a spindle heel – its porch towards him and its back to the trees. He leaped down from his fine steed and said, ‘I don’t mean to stay a long stay – I mean to stay for one night. I shall go inside you and come out again too.’

And the young man went inside. As is right and as is written, he crossed himself; as is right and as is written, he bowed.

An old woman was sitting there. With her nose she was poking the fire; with her eyes she was watching her geese outside; with her hands she was spinning silk.

‘Foo, foo, foo! Till now not even the black raven has brought me a Russian bone, but now a living Russian stands before my eyes. What brings you here, my child? Is it your will? Or is your will not free?’

The young man leaped towards the old woman and cried out, ‘I’ll knock you about the lughole so air comes out of your cunt-hole. I’ll smash you across the ears so sand flies out of your arse. Old woman, you should learn not to ask too many questions. A fighting man needs his food and drink!’

The old woman laid the table, gave Ivan Tsarevich his food and drink, then asked, ‘Child, what brings you here? Is it your will? Or is your will not free?’

And he replied, ‘My own free will – but three times more, my unfree will. There were three of us, three brothers. The first rode out from home – and brought back only a copper snake from the copper mountain. And our father threw him in prison. The second brother rode out no one knows where – and no more is known of him. And then it was my turn to serve, my turn to gather my father’s flowers and follow his footsteps. Tell me, grandmother, did our Papa ride far in his day?’

‘Lie down to sleep, my child. Morning is wiser than evening, and the light of day brings rewards!’

In the morning the old woman woke the brave young fellow. She gave him food and drink, gave him a fine steed of her own, led him out onto the road and said, ‘My sister lives further on and she knows of you and your task.’

And off he galloped again through open steppe – from mountain to mountain and from hill to hill. He had only to raise his hand – and his fine steed left rivers and lakes far beneath its hooves. The steed’s mane span as it streamed in the wind and its tail spread over the earth.

And Ivan came to green meadows. Evening was drawing in. There at the edge of a field he saw a hut standing on a goat’s leg, on a spindle heel. ‘Stand still, little hut!’ he called. ‘I don’t mean to stay a long stay – I mean to stay for one night. I shall go inside you and come out again too.’

The little hut stood its ground, its back to the trees, its porch towards the tsarevich.

And he leaped down from his fine steed and went inside. A woman still older than her sister was sitting there. With her hands she was spinning silk; with her nose she was poking the fire; with her eyes she was watching her geese outside.

‘Foo, foo, foo! Till now not even the black raven has brought me a Russian bone, but now a living Russian stands before my eyes. What brings you here, my child? Is it your will? Or is your will not free?’

Ivan Tsarevich had been feeling tired and hungry. These words angered him and he leaped at the old woman and threatened her: ‘I’ll knock you about the lughole till air comes out of your cunt-hole. I’ll smash you across the ears so sand flies out
of your arse. Old woman, you should learn not to ask too many questions. You should learn to give a fighting man food and drink and give him a feather bed to lie on!’

The old woman laid the table, gave him his food and drink, let him lie and rest for a while then asked, ‘Child, what brings you here? Is it your will? Or is your will not free?’

‘Oh, grandmother,’ he replied. ‘Twice more, my unfree will. Our Papa ordered us to gather his flowers and follow his footsteps. Tell me, grandmother, did our Papa ride far in his day?’

‘Lie down to sleep, my child. Morning is wise, and the light of day brings rewards. Morning is wiser than evening, my child. Come morning I’ll tell you!’

The old woman woke him early the next morning. She gave the young fellow food and drink, gave him a fine steed of her own, keeping the other steed with her, and led him out into open steppe.

And off he galloped again through open steppe – from mountain to mountain and from hill to hill. He had only to raise his hand – and his fine steed left rivers and lakes beneath its hooves. Its mane whirled in the wind and its tail spread over the earth.

And he came to green meadows. The day was drawing to an end, the sun sinking towards evening. And there in the green meadows he saw a hut.

‘Stand still, little hut!’ he called. ‘Stand still on your goat’s leg, on your spindle heel! I don’t mean to stay a long stay – I mean to stay for one night. I shall go inside you and come out again too.’

And he rode up on his fine steed to the porch. And he leaped down from his fine steed and went inside. A very old woman was sitting there. She was spinning silk and poking the fire with her nose; and with her eyes she was watching her geese in the field outside.

‘What brings you here, my child? Is it your will? Or is your will not free?’

Ivan Tsarevich had been feeling tired and hungry. These words angered him and he leaped at the old woman and threatened her: ‘I’ll knock you about the lughole till air comes out of
your cunt-hole. I’ll smash you across the ears so sand flies out of your arse.’

No longer did the old woman feel like sitting there. She gave him food and drink, let him rest for a while and only then began to ask questions.

‘Oh, grandmother,’ he replied, ‘let me tell you of my deeds. There were three of us brothers, three sons to the tsar. The first brother was Fyodor Tsarevich. Our father sent him off to gather his flowers and follow his footsteps – but he rode only as far as the copper mountain and he brought back from there only a copper snake. And this angered our father, and our father threw him in prison. The second brother was Dmitry Tsarevich. Our father sent him out too, but he disappeared no one knows where. He has never returned. And then it was my turn to serve, to gather my father’s flowers and follow his footsteps. My father said, “Where do you think you’re going, Ivan? Your brothers were better men than you are. You’d do better to sit at home on the stove and not play the hero. Your brothers were older than you are, but they have still not come back to me!” What could I do but step forward and ask for my father’s blessing? “Father,” I said, “if you grant me your blessing and forgiveness, I shall ride away. And if you do not grant me your blessing and forgiveness, away I shall ride.” This pleased the tsar, and he let me go. And so my turn came to gather his flowers and follow his footsteps. Tell me, grandmother, did Papa ride far in his day?’

‘Morning is wise, child, and the light of day brings its rewards. Morning is wiser than evening. I’ll tell you in the morning.’

The old woman woke him early the next morning. She gave him her own fine steed, led him out onto the road and said to him, ‘At the very middle of the day, child, you will come to the tsardom under the sun. A maiden rules there as tsaritsa, and her name is Marya the Fair, Marya of the Long Tress of Hair. Her bed stands on nine pillars and she sleeps on it at the very middle of the day. But you must hurry – you must leap straight over the city wall. In the garden stands a young apple tree, and
there too is the water of life and the water of death. This is why your father rode to the city. You must fill two phials with these waters, but first you must tear a young raven in half and test which of these waters is which. To your right should be the water of life; to your left the water of death.’

Ivan Tsarevich rode into the tsardom under the sun, went on foot into the garden and caught a young raven and tore it in half. He sprinkled the raven with the water of death and its body grew together again. Then he sprinkled the raven with the water of life – and away it flew.

And then the young fellow wanted to go inside, into the rooms of the palace. He wanted to look at the Tsar Maiden. He wanted to see how she slept at noon – Marya the Fair, Marya of the Long Tress of Hair. He walked through the rooms and chambers, and all the maidens were sleeping on their beds. And he came to the chamber of Marya the Fair, Marya of the Long Tress of Hair. She was beautiful beyond all measure. And as she breathed in, doors closed, and as she breathed out, doors opened. And – the young man’s ardent heart caught fire.