The girl felt scared. The snake said, ‘I won’t leave your smock till you promise to marry me.’
What could the girl do? She promised to marry him.
That evening the girl and her mother closed all the doors and windows and put out the fire. They sat and waited, wondering what would happen. The snake came. It slithered round all the doors and windows, hiss-hiss hissing, hissing like the rain. They sat there trembling: were there any chinks or holes anywhere?
On the second evening the girl and her mother closed all the doors and windows and put out the fire. They sat and waited, wondering what would happen. The snake came. It slithered round all the doors and windows, hiss-hiss hissing, hissing like the rain. They sat there trembling: were there any chinks or holes anywhere?
And it was the same on the third evening – the girl and her mother closed all the doors and windows and put out the fire. They sat and waited, wondering what would happen. The snake came. It slithered round all the doors and windows, hiss-hiss hissing, hissing like the rain. They sat there trembling: were there any chinks or holes anywhere?
But the girl felt so scared that she said, ‘Let me go, Mama. It’s better I marry him.’
And so she married him. But really her husband was a man – a
man under a spell. In the daytime he was a water snake. In the evening she would call him, ‘As a snake, leave the lake! Be a man, on dry land!’
1
He would appear as a snake, then turn into a young man.
It was not long before they had two children. One more – and the snake would have remained a man for good. But the mother pitied her daughter for being married to a snake. She asked, ‘How do you call him up?’
‘As a snake, leave the lake!’ said the daughter. But she didn’t say the next words – they were secret.
The mother took a sharp scythe, went to the bank and called out, ‘As a snake, leave the lake!’
Out of the lake came the snake. And the mother went and chopped his head off. The daughter came running – but it was too late. She called her children and sent them away as white swans. And she herself turned into a grey cuckoo forever.
There was once a herder. He wandered about all the time singing songs. And in the same place there was a landlord. He knew sorcerer’s spells. Something about the herder enraged him. Why was the herder always singing? What made him so happy?
The landlord went and said to the herder, ‘Come and herd for me, herder!’
‘All right.’
‘You must take good care of my livestock. If you succeed, I agree to pay you a hundred roubles. But if you fail, then I cut three strips from your back.’
‘That’s all right by me,’ said the herder.
The landlord then gave him a hundred hares. ‘Take them out into the forest to feed – but I want them all back home by this evening. Lose a single hare and I cut a strip from your back – and you can go to the devil’s mother without a coin in your purse.’
‘Very well,’ said the herder. ‘But don’t be too hasty, your Excellency. Don’t be too quick with your curses.’
And so he drove the hares into the forest. Off they all ran, every which way. All you could see was their tails. But the herder just lay down and slept. You could hear the son of a bitch whistling through his nose and snoring.
Evening set in. The herder awoke, sat up, took out his pipe and began to sing:
Hares, hares, hares,
Eating without a care –
Here, here, here!
The hares all came running out of the forest. The herder gathered them all together and drove them back home. The landlord turned black with fury: ‘How have you done that, you wretch? Well then, go and sleep now – and tomorrow I’ll give you a real task.’
In the morning he gave the herder two hundred hares: ‘If you bring them all back, good luck to you! But lose a single hare and I cut a strip from your back – and off you go without any pay.’
The herder drove the hares into the forest. But the landlord had a word with his wife. ‘This herder,’ he said, ‘is going to bring us to rack and ruin. He brings back every last hare. And he never stops singing. Go and buy one of the hares from him.’
His wife washed and put on her very best dress. And off she rode into the forest. She rode up to the herder but found him asleep. He was whistling through his nose.
‘Greetings, young man,’ she said, ‘but what are you doing here?’
‘I’m herding my little hares, my beauty!’
‘Oh, can’t you sell me just one of your little hares? City dwellers love what comes from the wild.’
‘My hares, young lady, are forbidden hares. They’re not for sale.’
‘What then do you bid me do?’
‘You must agree, my beauty, to sleep with me.’
The woman was young, the herder was handsome, and her husband was very severe. And he had ordered her to pay whatever price the herder asked. She agreed. And so they took joy in each other. And the herder said, ‘You’re a sweet lady. Here’s a little hare for you, in return for our pleasure.’ And he gave her a little hare. She felt very glad and tucked the hare away in her bosom. And he lay down and went back to sleep – the sweet young lady had tired him.
Evening set in. The herder awoke, sat up, took out his pipe and began to sing:
Hares, hares, hares,
Eating without a care –
Here, here, here!
The hares all came running out of the forest. The one he had given the young lady came, too. The herder set off back home. The landlord was waiting in the gateway. He counted the hares: every last hare was present. What could he do?
In the morning he gave the herder three hundred hares. But as soon as the herder had left, he had a word with his young daughter. ‘Go to him in the forest, Masha. Do whatever it takes to get one of the hares from him!’
His young daughter dressed herself up and set off. She walked and walked until she came to the forest. There was the herder, whistling through his nose.
‘What are you doing here, young man?’ she asked.
‘I’m herding hares, young lady.’
‘Won’t you show me just one of your hares?’
‘Why not? Money’s a key to every door.’
‘How much do you need?’
‘Only my hares are not money hares. They’re forbidden hares.’
‘What do you bid me do?’
‘To see one of my hares, you must lift your dress to your knee.’
She lifted her dress. He let out a whistle and a hare ran up.
‘Oh what a darling little hare! Mayn’t I hold it in my hands?’
‘To hold it between your hands, you must lift your dress to your belly button.’
She felt ashamed. But what could she do? She was afraid of her father. She lifted her dress to her belly button. Then she said, ‘But mayn’t I hold it close?’
‘To hold it close, you must lift your dress to your breasts.’
She was ashamed, but what could she do? She lifted her dress up to her breasts. There between her breasts was a birthmark. He saw her birthmark. But he didn’t force himself on her. No, he just let her go very politely.
Evening set in. The herder awoke, sat up, took out his pipe and began to sing:
Hares, hares, hares,
Eating without a care –
Here, here, here!
The hares all came running out of the forest. And the hare the daughter was holding came, too. The herder drove all the hares back home. The landlord was waiting in the gateway. He counted the hares: every last hare was present. He felt angrier than ever.
In the morning he gave the herder five hundred hares. ‘Bring them all back – and we’ll settle up. Lose even one – and it’s a strip from your back.’
As soon as the herder had left, the landlord changed his clothes, put on a wig, took a skinny old mare and set off for the forest. He found the herder asleep. He woke him.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Herding hares.’
‘Will you sell me a hare?’
‘How much will you give me?’
‘A hundred roubles.’
‘No.’
‘A thousand roubles.’
‘No.’
‘What do you want for it then?’
‘Just kiss your mare under her tail.’
What could the landlord do? He didn’t want to pay this herder his wages. And so he lifted the mare’s tail and kissed her on the arse. His face got all smeared with horseshit. But the herder gave him his hare, and so off he went, feeling very pleased with himself. But the herder just played on his pipe and the hares all came running. He drove them back home and found the landlord white with fury.
‘The day before yesterday,’ said the landlord, ‘you were one hare short.’
‘What day was that? The day your wife and I—’
‘Alright, alright … but yesterday—’
‘The day your daughter lifted—’
‘Alright, alright … but today—’
‘The day you—’
‘All right, you son of a bitch. Let me give you your wages.’
And so the herder outwitted the landlord. And he went on singing. Yes, he felt merrier than ever.
1
There once lived three brothers. They went into the forest to fell trees. They chopped and chopped, and it grew late. They wanted to kindle a fire, but they had no light. And so they climbed up a fir tree, and one of them caught sight of a light.
The eldest brother said, ‘All right, I’ll go and ask for a light.’
So off he went. He came to a blazing fire. The forest spirit was lying beside it. And there were some foxes and pine martens and a big heap of logs.
‘Give me a light,’ he said.
‘Tell me a cock and bull story,’ said the forest spirit, ‘and I’ll give you a flame. But if you can’t speak true baloney, then I’ll tear a strip from your back.’
‘Once my dad had a worker who loaded forty cartloads of hay.’
‘Fool! I’ve loaded forty-one cartloads myself.’
He cut a strip from the brother’s back and sent him back where he’d come from.
Then the second brother went to ask for a light. He walked and he walked and he came to the bonfire.
‘Give me a light,’ he said.
‘Tell me a cock and bull story,’ said the forest spirit, ‘and I’ll give you a flame. But if you can’t speak true baloney, then I’ll tear a strip off your back.’
‘My dad had a worker once, and he chopped a hundred cartloads of logs.’
‘Fool! I’ve chopped a hundred and one cartloads myself.’
He cut a strip from the brother’s back and sent him back where he’d come from.
Then it was the turn of the youngest brother. So off he went. He came to a blazing fire. There was the forest spirit – the
leshy –
lying beside it. And there were some foxes and pine martens and a big heap of logs.
‘Greetings, fellow! Give me a light!’
‘If you tell me a cock and bull story,’ he said, ‘I’ll give you a flame. But if you can’t speak true baloney, then I’ll tear a strip off your back.’
‘I’ll tell you your story,’ said the youngest brother. ‘Only don’t interrupt me. If you interrupt once, then the foxes and martens are mine.’
1
‘Very well.’
‘And so we were all living together – thrice-nine brothers by the name of Ivan, a sister with no name at all, and our mother Malanya. A father was born to us – the size of a mouse, with a nose like a house.
2
And so off we went to christen our father. I mounted our mare, took her tail between my teeth – and off I rode. (
The forest spirit remains silent. He doesn’t interrupt.
) We came to a river. My mare almost flew – and tore her belly in two. Her front legs were on the far shore, and her rear legs where they had been before. I cut off a twig, cleaned it and sewed up my mare’s belly. And on I rode. Someone told me that, over the seas, flies and mosquitoes were dear and calves were cheap. So I caught twenty hundredweight of flies and mosquitoes. Then I swapped the flies for calves and the mosquitoes for bulls. I set off back home with them all. I drove them as far as the sea, but there wasn’t a boat to be seen – neither sail nor steam. I took one bull by the tail, whirled it, whirled it and hurled it across the waters. And I did the same with the others. I hung on tight to the last calf and ended up on this shore too. I looked at my old mare and saw the twig had grown into a fir tree. It had grown and grown and grown right up into the sky. And so into the sky I climbed. There I saw that the saints were all barefoot. They were lying about on the grass, eating their own tears and afraid to walk. Well, I took pity on them. I began killing my bulls, making shoes from their hides and lugging them high into the skies. I shoed the last saint – and began to feel faint. I wanted to get back down again, so I made
a rope out of rain. (
As for the forest spirit, he doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t interrupt.
) I was slipping down, but then a storm got up. It shook the rope and it broke my bones. I swung, swung, swung – and fell into a bog. I fell so deep that all you could see of me was my hair. A wolf took to walking over my head. Then it was weaving its nest there. Well, I began waving my hands. I waved and waved and I waved them free. I grabbed the wolf by the tail, and he pulled me out. (
The forest spirit doesn’t dare say a word.
) I ripped open the wolf’s tail – and there I found chests and caskets and all kinds of papers. And one of these papers says that the
leshy
here in this very forest owes my father one thousand roubles.’
‘That’s a lie! That’s a lie!’ said the forest spirit. (He couldn’t bear it.) ‘That’s a lie.’
The youngest brother collected the foxes and martens, took a light and made off.
Once there lived a rich merchant. He was about to travel abroad, to trade there. And he asked his young wife, ‘What shall I bring back for you as a present?’
‘I’ve got all I need already. But if you want to amuse me, then bring me a marvellous wonder.’
‘All right,’ he said.
And off he went. Now this wife of his had a friend, a young steward who was her lover. They had been waiting for the merchant to leave, so they could love each other. She had asked for a marvellous wonder so that her husband would have to search for a long time and not come back home. As soon as he left, they began eating and drinking and enjoying themselves in every way. They knew no shame, yes, they forgot it completely.