Russian Magic Tales from Pushkin to Platonov (Penguin Classics) (19 page)

In 1931 Onchukov was arrested, on a trumped-up charge of counter-revolutionary activity, and exiled to a town near Vologda. Thanks to Maksim Gorky’s intervention, however, he was allowed to return to Leningrad, where he worked on a
Dictionary of the Russian Language.
In 1934 he moved to Penza, 400 miles to the southeast of Moscow; there he earned his living through clerical work and occasional journalism. In 1939 he was arrested for a second time, again accused of counter-revolutionary activity, and in 1942 he died in a labour camp.

Once there was a tsar, a tsar who always did as he pleased and who lived in a country as flat as a tablecloth. He had a wife and a daughter and many servants, and he was a black magician. One day he had a feast prepared for all his people – for all his nobles, all his peasants and all his townspeople. When everyone was present and the feast had begun, the tsar said, ‘Whoever can hide from my sight, to him I will give the hand of my daughter. I will give him half my tsardom, and after my death he shall sit on my throne.’ The guests fell silent; they were all rather scared. But after a while, some daring young fellow said, ‘Tsar, master of us all, I can hide from your Highness.’ ‘Very well, young man, you go away and hide. Tomorrow I’ll look for you. And if I find you, it’s off with your head.’ The young man left the palace and walked all through the town. He walked and walked until he came to the bathhouse that belonged to the priest. ‘I know where I can go and hide,’ the young man said to himself. ‘I’ll hide in the priest’s bathhouse. I’ll go and hide in the corner, under the bench. The tsar will never be able to find me there.’

The black magician tsar got up early the following morning. He lit the stove, sat in his wicker chair, took out his magic book and began to read, to divine where this young man had gone: ‘The young man left my palace of white stone and walked all through the town. He walked and walked until he came to the bathhouse that belongs to the priest. “I know where I can go and hide,” the young man said to himself. “I’ll hide in the priest’s bathhouse. I’ll go and hide in the corner, under the bench. The tsar will never be able to find me there.” ’ And so the tsar told
his servants to go and fetch the young man from the priest’s bathhouse. The servants hurried along, went into the bathhouse, looked in the corner – and there under the bench was the young man. ‘Good day, young man!’ ‘Good day, royal servants!’ ‘You must come with us, young man. Our father the tsar has called for you.’ The servants led the young man into the tsar’s presence. ‘Why didn’t you hide from me?’ ‘I was unable to hide from your Highness.’ ‘Well then, it’s off with your head.’ And the tsar drew his sharp sword and, just like that, cut off the young man’s bold head.

To this tsar, cruelty was sport. The following day he gave another feast and another ball. He summoned all his nobles, all his peasants and all his townspeople. When the tables were set with food and the feast had begun, the tsar got to his feet and said, ‘Whoever can hide from my sight, to him I will give the hand of my daughter. I will give him half my tsardom, and after my death he shall sit on my throne.’ The guests fell silent; they were all rather scared. But after a while, some daring young fellow said, ‘Tsar, master of us all, I know how to hide from you.’ ‘Very well, young man, you go away and hide. Tomorrow I’ll look for you. And if I find you, it’s off with your head.’ The young man left the tsar’s white palace and walked all through the town. He walked and walked. He walked far and wide; he walked high and low. In the end he came to a huge barn. ‘I’ll go and hide in here,’ the young man said to himself. ‘The tsar will never be able to find me in all this chaff and straw.’

The black magician tsar slept all night, then got up early in the morning. He washed with water from the spring, dried himself with his towel, lit his stove, took out his book of magic, sat on his wicker chair and began to read, to divine where this young man had gone: ‘The young man left my palace of white stone and walked all the way through the town. He walked and walked. He walked far and wide; he walked high and low. In the end he came to a huge barn. “I’ll go and hide in here,” the young man said to himself. “The tsar will never be able to find me in all this chaff and straw.” ’ And so the tsar told his servants to go and fetch the young man from the barn. The servants hurried along, found the barn, searched through the straw – and
there was the young man. ‘Good day, young man!’ ‘Good day, royal servants!’ ‘You must come with us, young man. Our father the tsar has called for you.’ The servants led the young man into the tsar’s presence. ‘Why didn’t you hide from me?’ ‘I was unable to hide from your Highness.’ ‘Well then, it’s off with your head.’ And the tsar drew his sharp sword and, just like that, cut off the young man’s bold head.

To such tsars, cruelty is sport. The following day the tsar gave another great feast. Once again a bold young man took up the tsar’s challenge and said he would hide from him. The tsar agreed. The young man left the white palace and walked down the street. He walked and walked. Then he turned himself into a stoat with a black tail and began to run along the ground. He crept under tree roots and fallen trees and went on running about the earth. He ran and he ran until he came back to the tsar’s palace. He turned into a twisting gimlet, a little golden tool,
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and began dancing about outside the palace windows. He danced and danced. Then he turned into a falcon and flew to the window of the tsar’s daughter’s bedroom. The tsarevna saw the falcon, opened her window and called the falcon inside: ‘Come in, my fine falcon, come in, my handsome little falcon!’ The falcon perched on the window ledge, leaped onto the floor and turned into a handsome young man. The tsarevna greeted him and sat him at her oak table. They drank and feasted and did what was good. Then the young man turned himself into a gold ring, and the tsarevna put this ring on her finger.

The black magician tsar slept all night, then got up early in the morning. He washed with water from the spring, dried himself with his towel, lit the stove, took out his magic book, sat on his wicker chair and began to read, to divine where this young man had gone. He called his servants and said, ‘Go and fetch my daughter or else bring me the ring she has on her finger!’ The servants went to the tsarevna’s room and said, ‘The tsar has summoned you to his presence.’ ‘Why? Why does he need me?’ ‘If you don’t want to go yourself, then just give us the ring from your finger.’ The tsarevna took off her ring and handed it to the servants. The servants took the ring to the tsar,
the tsar threw the ring over his left shoulder, and the ring turned into a handsome young man. ‘Greetings, young man!’ ‘Greetings, your Highness!’ ‘Well then, I’ve found you – so it’s off with your head.’ ‘No, my lord, I can hide twice more. That’s what we agreed.’ ‘All right then, go away and hide!’

The young man left the tsar’s palace, went out into open steppe and turned himself into a grey wolf. He ran and ran. He roamed over all of the earth, then turned himself into a bear. He lumbered through dark forests, then turned into a stoat with a black tail. He ran and ran. He squeezed under tree roots and fallen trees. He came back to the tsar’s palace and turned into a gimlet. He danced about outside the palace windows. Then he turned into a falcon and flew to the tsarevna’s window. The tsarevna saw the falcon and opened her window. ‘Come in, my fine falcon!’ she called out. The falcon perched on the window ledge, leaped onto the floor and turned into a handsome young man. The tsarevna greeted him and sat him at her oak table. They drank and feasted and did what was good. Then they thought hard and long: how was the young man to hide from the tsar? They decided he should turn into a bright falcon and fly far, far away into open steppe. The young man turned into a bright falcon. The tsarevna opened her window, placed the falcon on the ledge and said, ‘Fly, falcon, fly far into open steppe and turn into one of seventy-seven blades of grass that all look the same!’

The black magician tsar slept all night, then got up early in the morning. He washed with water from the spring, dried himself with his towel, lit the stove, took out his magic book, sat on his wicker chair and began to read, to divine where this young man had gone. He called his servants and said, ‘Go out into the open steppe. When you come to this grass, tear up a whole armful and bring it all back to me!’ The servants went and found the grass, tore it out of the ground and brought it back to the tsar. The tsar sat in his chair, went through the blades of grass, found the blade he was looking for and threw it over his left shoulder. It turned into a handsome young man. ‘Greetings, young man!’ ‘Greetings, your Highness!’ ‘Well
then, I’ve found you again – so it’s off with your head.’ ‘No, my lord, I can hide one last time.’ ‘All right then, go away and hide – tomorrow I’ll look for you!’

The young man left the tsar’s palace, walked down the street, went out into open steppe, turned himself into a grey wolf – and off he ran. He ran and ran. He ran till he came to the blue sea. There he turned into a pike – and off he swam. He swam across the blue sea. He came to land. There he turned into a bright falcon. He soared high into the sky and flew far away. He flew and flew over open steppe. In a green oak he saw the woven nest of the Magovey bird.
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Down he dropped into this nest. The Magovey bird was not there at that moment, but after a while she came back. There in her nest she saw a young man. ‘What a way to behave!’ said the Magovey bird. ‘Flying into someone else’s nest, dropping down and then just lying there!’ She seized the young man in her claws and took him out of her nest; then she carried him over the blue sea and laid him outside the window of the black magician tsar.
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The young man turned into a fly, flew into the tsar’s fine hall, then turned into a flint and lay down in the tinder bag.

The black magician tsar slept all night, then got up early in the morning. He washed with water from the spring, dried himself with his towel, lit the stove, took out his magic book, sat on his wicker chair and began to read, to divine where this young man had gone. In his book of magic he read everything the young man had done until the Magovey bird took him out of her nest. ‘Go, servants,’ he said, ‘into the open steppe. Cross the open steppe, sail across the blue sea in a boat and search for the green oak. Then cut the oak down, find the nest and bring the young man back to me.’ Off went the servants. They cut down the oak and found the nest. They searched and searched, but there was no sign of the young man. They went back and said to the tsar, ‘We found the green oak. The nest was there, but the young man was not.’ The tsar looked in his book, and the book said that the young man was indeed in the nest. The tsar put on his robes and went off to see for himself. He looked and looked, he searched and searched – but he could find nothing. He had the green oak chopped into bits and burned
on a fire till not a splinter was left. The tsar said to himself, ‘Well, I may not have found the young man, but I’ve made sure he’s not alive anywhere on this earth.’

The tsar returned to his tsardom. A day went by, and then a second day and a third day. In the morning a maid came to make fire. She took a flint and the steel from the tinder bag, laid out the tinder and struck the steel against the flint. The flint flew out of her hands and over her left shoulder and turned into a handsome young man. ‘Greetings, your Highness!’ ‘Greetings, young man – but now it’s off with your head!’ ‘No, your Highness, you searched for me for three days and then you gave up. Now I’ve appeared of my own accord. Now you must give me half of your tsardom and your daughter in marriage.’ And there was nothing the tsar could do. Straight away there was a merry feast and a wedding. The young man married the tsar’s daughter and received half of his tsardom. And when the tsar died, the young man would sit on his throne.

Once upon a time there lived a tsar, a sovereign tsar in his sovereign tsardom. He married a beautiful woman, and in less than a year his wife gave birth to a son. The midwife took the tsar’s son to the bathhouse, brought him back again and said to the tsar, ‘Your son is strong and he will be agile, but there is one misfortune. It is inscribed on his head that he will kill his father.’ This saddened the tsar, but he pitied the child. While he was still little, the tsar decided, he could live together with them. Then they would see what kind of man he was turning out to be.

The son began to grow up, and the tsar assigned a man to keep a sharp eye on him. And he and the tsaritsa kept an eye on him too. One day the boy was out in the garden with his tutor when all of a sudden he caught sight of a man with a bronze brow and a tin belly sitting beneath a bush. The tsarevich rushed to his father and told him: out there in the garden was a man with a bronze brow and a tin belly! The tsar ordered his soldiers to surround the garden and catch whoever they found there. The garden was surrounded and the man was brought to the tsar: yes, he really did have a bronze brow and a tin belly. The tsar ordered him to be imprisoned in the fortress. Some time passed and the tsar let it be known throughout his lands, and in foreign lands too, that whoever wished to see a man with a bronze brow and a tin belly should come to visit for three days. And he announced the hour when he would exhibit this man.

Meanwhile the son was learning to use a bow and arrow. Every day he went into the garden with his tutor and practised,
and he became very skilled indeed; and he had a favourite arrow with which he could hit any target he chose. Now the wall of the fortress where Bronze Brow was imprisoned was just by the garden. One day the tsarevich shot his arrow and it went in through Bronze Brow’s window. The tsarevich went to look for his arrow and found it lying beside the wall. He picked it up and checked to see whether or not the tip had been blunted. Written on the shaft of his favourite arrow were the words, ‘Let me out and you will receive whatever you want!’ The tsarevich realized that it was Bronze Brow who had written this, and he and his tutor decided to let Bronze Brow out of the fortress that night.