Russian Magic Tales from Pushkin to Platonov (Penguin Classics) (53 page)

Her heart couldn’t bear it. No-Arms dressed herself as a soldier and set off to the war. When she got there, the soldiers thought she was a man and just said, ‘You should be at home, my friend, sitting on the stove. What can a cripple do in a war? You’re a brave fellow, but this is no place for you.’

But No-Arms knew what she should do. She began to care for the sick and the dying. Sometimes a man would be about to die – and her good and kind words would keep him alive. Or a soldier would lose heart, she’d walk in front of him towards the enemy, and the despondent warrior would raise his sword again. Yes, that’s how it was.

And then one day No-Arms caught sight of her son. He was in the middle of the battlefield, and the enemy were falling dead around him. He was hard pressed. All his comrades, everyone who had fought beside him, had now fallen, and her son stood alone. But in place of the enemies he killed came more enemies, and there was no end to them.

His mother watched: would her son hold out or not? His power was great, but all power can be overpowered. And then
a whole dark host fell on him, and she could no longer see if he was alive or dead.

From a distance the commander himself was watching the battle. He said to his aide, ‘Find out the name of that warrior of ours over there. Find out whose son he is, and send him help straight away.’

But when would this help come? In time, or too late? Suddenly No-Arms saw her son rise up from the ground. All around him were fallen enemies. And at that moment a black host bore down on him. Her time – the mother understood – had come. She shouted out, ‘Stand firm, my son! Stand firm, my only begotten son!’ – and rushed to his side.

She didn’t stop to think that she had no arms – all she knew was her heart beating away in fury against the enemy and with love for her son – and then she felt her arms again, and the strength in them, as though her brother had never chopped them off. She snatched up the sharp sword of a fallen warrior and started to cut down the enemies crowding around her son. She fought for a long time, defending her son; she was beginning to tire and, as for her son, he was soaked in blood and barely able to stand. Then came the help sent by the commander. Fresh soldiers cut down the remnant of the enemy; those who had fallen at the hands of No-Arms and her son already lay dead. No-Arms’s son had fought by his mother’s side, but he hadn’t recognized her: he had had no time to look at her, and even if he had, he wouldn’t have known her – his mother had no arms, while the arms of this warrior were mighty.

Soon after the enemy had been defeated, the war came to an end. The commander at once summoned all his bravest warriors, asking each to say who were his people and who was his father, and giving each a reward. He called No-Arms’s son and asked: ‘Who are your people, young man? Who are your father and mother? They too must be rewarded, for having raised such a son.’

No-Arms’s son hung his head. ‘I have no father,’ he said, ‘and I can’t remember him. I grew up alone with my mother. The earth was our bed, and the sky our covering. Good people took the place of my father.’

‘The people are a father to all fathers,’ said the commander. ‘I am less than they and cannot reward them. But your mother must be rewarded for having raised a brave son. Let her appear before me and take her reward in her hands.’
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‘But she hasn’t got any hands, she hasn’t got any arms at all,’ said No-Arms’s son.

The commander looked sadly and penetratingly at the young warrior.

‘Go and fetch your mother,’ he said. ‘Bring her to me.’

No-Arms’s son went back to the village to look for his mother. There he learned that his mother had gone to the war, too. She had gone to care for those who had been cut to pieces and mutilated.

He went back and spoke to the commander. His mother had left the village, he told the commander; she was here with the army.

The commander asked everyone who had helped heal the wounded and dying to be brought to him, and he began to reward them for the good work they had done. And when a woman with no arms came up to him, wearing the clothes of a soldier, he looked her in the face and knew her as his wife, and No-Arms recognized him as her husband. No-Arms wanted to embrace her husband – she had been separated from him for a whole age – but she remembered she had no arms. They had withered away again immediately after she had stood by her son in the battle. But No-Arms couldn’t bear it, and she reached out towards her husband. She had always loved him; she had never forgotten him. And then, as if from her heart, her arms grew, as strong as they had ever been, and with them she embraced her husband. And from that moment her arms stayed with her forever.
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Then the father called for his son and said to him: ‘Welcome, my son! I am your father, and you didn’t know me, nor I you. Evil people parted us, but there is a power more powerful than evil.’

The son looked at his father and rejoiced. Then he looked at his mother and saw that his mother now had hands and arms. And he remembered that last battle and the warrior who had
defended him with his sword. The son fell on his knees before his mother and kissed her hands that had saved him.

Soon afterwards, when peacetime set in, the commander set off to the house where he had once lived with his father, where he had first seen No-Arms and begun to love her. He took with him his wife and his son and rode off to live in peace. After going some distance, they stopped at the hut of No-Arms’s brother, because it was on their way.

As soon as the brother’s wife saw them, as soon as she saw who had come – No-Arms herself and all her family, all whole and hale, and people of standing – she collapsed at their feet in terror and at once, without being asked, told all she had done to doom No-Arms and her little child.

‘Maybe they’ll pardon me,’ she thought. ‘It was a long time ago.’

No-Arms listened to her, and, in answer, told of her own fate, of all she had suffered.

No-Arms’s brother bowed to his sister, and said: ‘Thank you, sister, for your story – but evil must not be left to bear seed. Forgive me, dearest sister.’

And that night, without his guests knowing, he led from the stables a young mare who wasn’t yet broken in. He twisted the reins, and with them he tied his wife to the mare’s tail and himself to his wife. He called out – and the horse was off, dragging husband and wife through open steppe, beating them to death against the ground.
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In the morning, No-Arms and her husband and son waited for their hosts, but only a mare ran up, alone, without any people, out of the open steppe.

The guests waited and waited – and then rode off, back to their home and to long and happy lives. Unhappiness may indeed live in the world, yet only by chance; happiness must live constantly.

Once there was a soldier who had served his twenty-five years of service. He was a loyal and honourable soldier, but he liked to play tricks on his comrades. He could say anything in the world and make it seem like the truth; until they came to their senses, his comrades would all believe him.

Now a soldier may have to serve many years, but he has time off, and he, too, wants to have fun. He doesn’t have a family, he doesn’t have to think about board and lodging, so what does he do after sentry duty? What do you think? He tells stories! And what does he care where his stories take him?

Soldier Ivan had received his discharge. It was time for him to go back home, but his home was somewhere far, far away, and he was long unaccustomed to his kinfolk.

‘Well,’ he sighed. ‘I’ve served all my life as a soldier. I’ve served for twenty-five years, but I haven’t once seen the tsar! When I get back to my village, my kin are going to ask what the tsar’s like. What will I tell them?’

Off Ivan went to see the tsar.

Now the tsar of that land was Tsar Agey – and Tsar Agey loved being told stories. Until he’d listened to a few, he never felt merry. Tsar Agey also liked to tell stories and ask riddles himself. He liked it when people listened to him, and he liked it still more when people believed his stories and couldn’t unriddle his riddles.

Along came Ivan, into the presence of Tsar Agey.

‘What do you want, fellow countryman?’ asked Agey.

‘I want to look at your royal face! Twenty-five years I’ve served as your soldier, not once have I seen your face.’

Tsar Agey told the soldier to sit down opposite him on a carved wooden chair: ‘Sit and look, soldier! Sit on this chair, sit till the devil drags you away by the hair!’ And the tsar laughed.

Ivan sat on the carved chair. He felt a little scared in the tsar’s royal presence, and he wasn’t quite sure if the tsar was in his right mind. ‘Why does Tsar Agey sound so delighted about this devil of his?’ he kept wondering.

‘Well, soldier, I’ll ask you a riddle!’ said Tsar Agey. ‘How great is the world – what do you reckon?’

Ivan looked serious. ‘Not so very great, your Majesty! The sun goes all the way round it in under twenty-five hours.’

‘True enough,’ said the tsar. ‘And how much height stands between the earth and the sky? A great height or a little height?’

‘The same thing, your Highness – only a very little height. If there’s a knock up there, you hear it down here.’

Tsar Agey could see the soldier was speaking truth and this upset him. The soldier was smart. He might even be smarter than the tsar himself.

‘Soldier, tell me one more thing. How deep are the depths of the sea?’

‘How deep are the depths of the sea? No one knows that. My grandad served at sea, and he went and drowned deep into the water. It’s forty years since he drowned – and he’s still not found his way back.’

Tsar Agey realized he was never going to outriddle the old soldier. He ordered the soldier to be given some money, so he could set up a home for himself. Then he sat him down at the table to drink some tea.

‘Present me a story, soldier. Then I’ll let you go home.’

Now a soldier never has any money at all, and he’s always glad to be given some. And Ivan had sat long enough in the tsar’s royal presence, and anyway it wasn’t really tea that he wanted.

‘Let me go out for some fun, your Highness. Twenty-five years I’ve served in your service. Now let me go and live as I please. I’ll present you the story later.’

Ivan left the tsar’s and went to a tavern. For a day and a night the soldier had fun. He drank away all the money the tsar
had given him. He had nothing left but an old half kopek. He drank that away too, but he still hadn’t drunk all he wanted. He wanted more.

‘More vodka, landlord, and a bite to eat!’

The landlord was afraid of being cheated. ‘Are you paying in gold or in silver?’ he asked.

‘Gold. Silver’s too heavy for a soldier to carry about with him.’

The landlord brought the soldier some food and some vodka, then sat down opposite him.

‘Where are you going now, soldier?’ he asked. ‘And what about your kin – are they still living or have they all passed away?’

‘I’ve come from the tsar’s royal presence,’ said Ivan. ‘Where else would a soldier be coming from? And a soldier doesn’t need kinfolk. The whole world is his kin. Drink up, landlord – it’s on me!’

The landlord drank with the retired soldier.

‘I’ll charge you a bit less,’ said the landlord. ‘Yes, I’ll give you a discount.’

‘Drink up, landlord! And a soldier doesn’t need discounts – I’ll settle in full! And have a bite to eat!’

The landlord lived well. He was accustomed to good food and good drink – but what he loved more than anything was good talk.

‘Tell me a true story, soldier,’ he said, ‘a story about something that really happened to you.’

‘Which story shall I tell you, landlord?’

‘Any story you like. What lands you’ve wandered. What places you’ve made your home.’

‘Well then, let me tell you. Before I served my service I was a bear, and I lived in the forest. And I’m a bear now, too, and I’m on my way back to the forest.’

At first the landlord felt frightened. It was his own tavern, and it was full of goods and wares. He might incur a loss from the bear – how would a bear be able to pay for what he had eaten and drunk?

‘My!’ said the landlord. ‘Is that the truth?’

‘It certainly is!’ said the retired soldier. ‘Can’t you see? I’m a bear, and yes, you’re a bear too!’

This well and truly shocked the landlord: who would he be able to trade with now that he was a bear?

The landlord looked at the former soldier and pinched himself. Yes, the soldier was a bear – and now he himself was a bear too.

‘What are we going to do, soldier? We don’t have to run away into the forest, do we?’

‘Not now. We might be killed by hunters. There’ll be time enough to escape to the forest.’

‘But what are we to do now?’ said the landlord. ‘Oh, how unhappy we are! We’re bears!’

The former soldier stayed calm. ‘What are we to do now?’ he said. ‘Let’s drink and feast! Be a true host – bid the world be your guest! Bears can’t be landlords – and we can’t let your goods go to waste!’

The former Ivan was speaking the truth – there was no doubt about it. The landlord gave orders for people to be called from every village and every town, from every hut for miles around.

The guests arrived – people they had called, and far-flung strangers who had heard the call from others. They ate till not a scrap or a crumb remained; they drank till every barrel was drained. Then they took away all the bowls and spoons: what good are bowls and spoons to a bear?

Now the landlord had no goods and wares left at all. He and the former soldier climbed up onto the sleeping bench for the night.

‘What am I to do?’ he asked.

‘We can slip away into the forest tonight,’ said the soldier. ‘Bears aren’t supposed to live in towns and settlements. It’s not lawful – we’ll be fined.’

Ivan woke during the night and ordered the landlord, ‘Come on, bear! Jump! It’s time we were off to the forest. You run first and I’ll follow. We don’t want you to get left behind.’

The landlord collected himself, jumped off the sleeping bench, and fell belly first onto the floor. He lay there for a while
until he came to. Then he saw what had happened – nothing was left in his tavern, the guests had eaten their way for free through all his wares, there was no sign of that former soldier, and he himself was not a bear but a landlord again, though a good deal worse off than he had been before.