Ivan Mareson got to his feet and said, ‘Well, brothers, we’re in trouble. Someone’s making fun of us.’ And he said to his youngest brother, ‘Well, Ivan Moonson, you stay on guard tonight. Find out who’s coming to our yurt.’
Night fell. Ivan Moonson was on guard. The others lay down in the yurt to sleep. Ivan Moonson sat there on the floor until midnight. Then he wanted to sleep. He hadn’t seen anyone. At midnight he lay down under the furs and fell fast asleep – and so he didn’t see anything at all.
In the morning the eldest brother got up and saw that the arrows had been decorated again.
‘Well, brother, well, Ivan Moonson, did you see anyone in the night?’
‘I saw no one at all.’
‘Well, you’re certainly not much use as a guard, Ivan Moonson! Well, brother, well, Ivan Sunson, it’s your turn next. You stay on guard this coming night!’
Come evening, they stood their bare arrows in the ground.
Ivan Sunson was on guard. He sat there on the floor. He sat and sat, but he didn’t see anyone. At midnight he got under the heap of feathers, quickly warmed up and fell fast asleep – and so he didn’t see anyone at all.
In the morning the other two brothers got up. Ivan Mareson checked the arrows. They had been decorated in many colours, more beautifully than ever.
‘Well, brother, well, Ivan Sunson, did you see anyone in the night?’
‘I saw no one at all.’
‘You’re certainly not much of a guard, Ivan Sunson!’
The third night set in. ‘Well, brothers,’ said Ivan Mareson, ‘you two are certainly no use as guards. Go into the yurt and lie down to sleep. Tonight it’s my turn to be on guard. How much longer can we be made to look like fools?’
He sat there, and he sat there. It was close to midnight. Ivan
Mareson lay down under the furs. He heard a noise. In flew three spoonbills.
They struck against the ground and turned into fair maidens. Each bent over her arrow, and they began to laugh. ‘This,’ said one, ‘is the arrow of
my
sweetheart.’ ‘And this,’ said the second, ‘is
my
sweetheart’s arrow.’ ‘And this arrow,’ said the third, ‘belongs to
my
sweetheart.’
Then Ivan Mareson quietly crept up to their birdskins and wings and hid them away in his pocket. The maidens all went on laughing and embroidering until morning, until it was time for them to fly away.
They leaped to their feet and hurried to put on their birdskins and wings. But there was nothing there.
‘Oh sisters,’ they said in the Russian tongue. ‘We’re done for. Yes, it seems we were led here by fate.’
‘Who is guilty of this?’ asked Marfida Tsarevna. ‘If you are older than us, be our father. If you are younger than us, be a brother to us. If you are our own age, be my betrothed.’
From the heap of furs, Ivan Mareson asked, ‘Is your word spoken in good faith?’
‘A royal word is not spoken three times. It is spoken but once.’
Ivan climbed out from under the furs.
Well, he was very handsome, but she was more handsome still. She fell in love with him, and he fell still more in love with her. In only a moment they were holding hands. Then they exchanged golden rings, and then they kissed. He said, ‘Love me, and I shall love you!’ And she replied, ‘But don’t you have comrades here? I have sisters.’
Ivan woke his brothers: ‘Hey, brothers! Get up, you sleepy grouse!’
The brothers got up and went outside.
‘Well, brothers, when you were on guard, you never saw our visitors. But I’ve found myself a betrothed, and I’ve found comrades for you too.’
And just as Ivan had done, so did his two brothers each take a betrothed and exchange rings with her. And they all went on living in the same yurt.
They all slept in the yurt, and then, come morning, the men
would leave their women to look after the household while they themselves went out hunting.
All of a sudden Ivan Mareson realized that something was the matter with the women – and, above all, with his own woman: she was fading and withering. He said to his brothers, ‘Brothers, someone must be visiting our women. They’re looking all sad.’
And then he noticed some burrows dug under the yurt. He had no trust in his brothers, so he sent them out hunting. ‘You go out hunting today,’ he said to them. ‘I’ll stay on guard here at home.’
At noon the brothers set off.
Ivan Mareson stayed on guard.
Out crept a fiery serpent. He went into the yurt and began sucking the women’s breasts. That was how the serpent was tormenting the women and drying them up. Ivan drew his stout bow, loosed a tipped arrow and shot the serpent right in his chest.
The serpent fell from Ivan’s betrothed. From the breast of Ivan’s betrothed he fell straight back into his burrow. But first, in the Russian tongue, he said ‘Wait for me, Ivan Mareson. In three days’ time I’ll be back with a fiery cloud.’
2
The brothers returned from their hunting. Ivan Mareson said, ‘Brothers, for three days and nights we must make bows and arrows. I have found our adversary. But I failed to kill him properly – I only wounded him. He’s promised to come back in three days’ time with a fiery cloud.’
And so for three days and nights they made bows and arrows. They went on working until the last moment. Then Ivan Mareson said, ‘Ivan Moonson, go and see if there’s a storm cloud coming this way.’
Ivan Moonson went outside. He said, ‘Oh, brothers! There’s a black cloud rising up from the earth.’
Not long after this, Ivan Mareson sent out Ivan Sunson.
Ivan Sunson went outside. He said, ‘Oh, brothers! There’s a huge cloud. It’s drawing closer and closer.’
Not long after this Ivan Mareson went outside. There overhead stood the black cloud.
And so the battle began. The brothers battled and battled – and
felled one third of the cloud. And Ivan Moonson also lay felled. Two-thirds of the cloud remained. The brothers battled and battled – and felled one half of the cloud. And Ivan Sunson also lay felled. But there remained one half of the cloud – a host of unclean spirits. Ivan Mareson battled and battled. He felled a third of the cloud – and then he too lay felled. And then the women were seized and taken away by what still remained of the cloud.
The mare was wandering about the forest. She remembered her son and ran to look for his arrow. She galloped headlong to the place of the battle. She found the arrow. It had fallen over.
‘My son must have died,’ she thought. And she made her way between the dead heads. She walked on and on, and then she found her son’s head and his body. She gave them a lick, turned round and gave them a kick – and they grew together. She gave her son another lick, turned round and gave him another kick – and her son gave a sudden start. She gave him a third lick, a third kick – and her son got to his feet.
‘Oh, Mama!’ he said. ‘I’ve been sleeping a long time. Now quicken my comrades, Mamasha. Quicken Ivan Sunson and Ivan Moonson.’
The mare found the heads of Ivan Sunson and Ivan Moonson, together with their bodies. And with three licks and three kicks she quickened them – just as she had quickened her son. Then the son said to his mother, ‘But where are our women, Mamasha?’
‘I don’t know.’
Then he said to his brothers, ‘They must have been seized by that heathen power.’
And the mother said, ‘You must stand your arrow in the ground again. Then I shall know you’re still alive.’
And away she galloped to a broad valley.
‘Well, brothers,’ said Ivan Mareson. ‘Now we must hunt for three days and nights. We need skins so we can stitch a long rope.’
For three days and nights they hunted wild beasts and stitched a long rope from their skins.
‘Well, brothers,’ said Ivan Mareson. ‘Now you must lower
me into this burrow. If the rope isn’t long enough, then you must tie your belts to the end of it. And if I don’t tug on the rope within twelve days, you must leave the burrow and go where your eyes look.’
They lowered him down in a cradle. Down and down he went. Then the cradle came to a stop. They had only needed to tie one belt to the end of the rope.
Ivan Mareson got out of the cradle and set off along a path. He walked maybe a long way, maybe a short way, until he came to a lake. He walked all the way round this lake. He saw three women coming towards him. He hid in the undergrowth. As the women drew level with him, he shot an arrow across the path. The three women were going to the lake; they were carrying buckets and were on their way to fetch water. And the first of them was his betrothed. As the arrow flew past, she gave a start and a little scream: ‘Oh!’
‘Sister, why did you scream?’ asked her two sisters.
‘It was just a little mouse. It ran across the path in front of me.’
And that was all she said.
The three sisters filled their pails. Then the first sister began to dawdle.
‘Sister, why are you hanging back?’ asked her sisters.
‘I feel like staying out in the fresh air. You go on your way. I’ll come back later.’
Once her sisters were out of sight, she said in the Russian tongue, ‘Is it you, my betrothed? Are you here?’
‘Yes, it’s me.’
She was overjoyed. They began talking. Ivan asked her, ‘What about the serpent? Where is he? Is he lying wounded?’
‘He’s lying wounded – stretched out in a cradle.’
‘What shall I do? Shall I go and fight him now? Or shall I wait?’
‘Wait till noon. Wait till the cradle goes still. That’ll mean he’s fallen asleep.’
Ivan Mareson went up to the cradle. It was still rocking. But at noon it went still. The serpent had fallen asleep. Ivan took
hold of the serpent and squeezed the life out of him. And that was the end of the last of the fiery cloud.
And off Ivan went to find his women. He took all they needed from the storeroom, and he led his women to the foot of the burrow.
Ivan Mareson tied the stores to the rope. He tugged on the rope, and his brothers hauled the stores up. The brothers let the rope down again, and he tied Ivan Moonson’s woman to the rope. He tugged on the rope, and his brothers hauled her up. The brothers let the rope down again. He tied Ivan Sunson’s woman to the rope. He tugged on the rope, and they hauled her up too. The brothers let the rope down once again. Then Ivan Mareson and his betrothed began to argue. Yes, deep in her heart she had a sense …
‘Let’s tie
you
to the rope!’ said his betrothed.
‘No, let’s tie
you
to the rope!’ said Ivan Mareson. ‘You’ve been badly frightened down here.’
Ivan Mareson won the argument. He tied his betrothed to the rope. But when it came to his turn, they pulled him half-way up and then cut the rope. He fell to his death. His brothers seized his betrothed and led her away from the mouth of the burrow.
The brothers began to assault his betrothed; they tried to force themselves on her. She did not give in. They punished her. Whenever they took their yurt down, it was she who had to move it. She would have to drag it along on a sled; she would wash herself in her own tears. She began to fade and wither. Yes, she was withering like a blade of grass; she could barely even drag her own two legs any further.
The mare remembered her son. She ran to look for his arrow. It had fallen over. She began running about. Nowhere could she find the mouth of the burrow. She turned the yurt upside down. Now she could see the burrow. She sniffed inside it: yes, she could smell her son. She made her way down. She reached the bottom: there he was, lying dead on the ground. Just as she had done before, she quickened him. When she had finished, Ivan Mareson leaped to his feet and shook himself.
‘Oh, Mama!’ he said. ‘Oh Mamasha, I’ve been sleeping a long time.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ she replied. ‘And if I hadn’t come, you would never have got to your feet again.’
‘Mamasha,’ he said, ‘how are we going to get up to the upper world again?’
3
‘My child,’ she replied. ‘For three days and nights you must kill wild beasts. You must stitch two bags from their skins. You must chop up their meat. Then you must fill the bags with the meat.’
Ivan Mareson worked for three days and nights. Then he filled two bags and hung them over his mother the mare. Then she said, ‘Sit on my back, child. I’ll start to climb up. Each time I look round, you must give me a piece of meat. That way, I’ll get to the upper world again.’
Each time the mare looked round, he gave her a piece of flesh.
But he ran out of flesh. She looked round – and he had nothing to give her. He cut off a toe from his right foot and gave it to her. She looked round again – and he had nothing to give her. He cut off a piece of his right calf and gave it to her. She looked round a third time – and he had nothing to give her. He cut off a piece of his right ear and gave it to her.
Now they had come to the light of the upper world. Ivan Mareson dismounted from his mother the mare.
‘Oh, my child,’ she said. ‘I’m tired. But what was the sweet piece of gristle you gave me last of all?’
‘My ear,’ he replied.
She coughed it up and licked it back into place.
‘And what was it you gave me the second time that was so sweet?’
‘That was from my right calf,’ he replied.
She coughed it up and licked it back into place.
‘And what was the hard bit you gave me the first time?’
‘One of my right toes,’ he replied.
She coughed it up and licked it back into place.
Then Ivan Mareson fell down at her feet, before her right hoof.
‘Farewell, my dear mother,’ he said. ‘Farewell forever. I don’t think we’ll be meeting again.’
‘Where are you going now, my dear son?’ she asked.
‘I’m going to catch up with my brothers, Mamasha!’ he replied. ‘And with my betrothed.’
Ivan Mareson said farewell – and off he ran. His mother remained behind. Ivan ran and ran. He came to the site of a fire – but no one was there. He came to the site of a second fire – but no one was there. He came to the site of a third fire – his brothers had left only just before him.
Not far away he could see a woman. She was pulling something – a Tungus sled. And on this sled were stacked all the poles from a yurt – this was how his betrothed was being punished. His betrothed was alone with her burden. There was no one else to be seen. On she walked, washing herself with her tears. Ivan Mareson began pulling the poles off the sled. At first she sensed nothing, but when he removed the last pole, she sensed that the load behind her had grown lighter. She stopped, looked round and saw a young warrior. With her eyes full of tears, she could not see who it was.