AMONG THE WOOD-GOBLINS
Summer was "a comin' in," and a certain serious matter began to weigh
upon the mind of the peasants of Kushlefka, which is a prosperous
village in a grain-growing district of Archangel; for its settlement
could not much longer be delayed. The fact is, that early in the
winter Kushlefka had been so unfortunate as to lose the services of
its _pastuch_, or cowherd, death having carried off the old man
during the slack time--when the cows were all at home, that is, and
needed no one to look after them. But now that summer was at hand, and
the cows would soon be wanting to be up and about, wandering over
communal pasture and moorland in search of the fresh young blades of
grass, it was very awkward to feel that there was no pastuch to
personally conduct them in their wanderings, and that no single
candidate had been near the place to apply for the post. None of the
villagers would so much as think of accepting the office, for it was
but a poorly-paid billet, and was generally held by some one
unconnected with the place--some outsider who had wandered into the
village in search of a job and was appointed pastuch for as long as he
would keep the situation.
Hence when, one Sunday afternoon, as the assembly of the Heads of
Families or Souls composing the Mir or Commune of Kushlefka were met
to consider matters of local interest, and to settle certain business
questions appertaining to their jurisdiction, it was considered rather
a stroke of good luck for the community when a ragged moujik of middle
age suddenly appeared at the door of the council-hall, doffed his cap
and crossed himself towards the _ikon_ in the corner of the room,
made a bow to those present, grinned, scratched his head, and said:
"Good day, brothers; don't leave me!"
The reader must not suppose that the new-comer in thus addressing the
Souls of Kushlefka was seized with a sudden misgiving that those
gentlemen might all arise and depart just as he had arrived; the
Russian expression "Don't leave me!" merely indicates a desire to be
heard, and if possible assisted, and is a common mode for an inferior
to commence a conversation with a superior.
"What do you want?" asked the starost, or president.
"Why--work," said the man; "some job--bread to eat--any kind of work
will do for me." This seemed most providential, and the starost looked
meaningly around at his lieutenants.
"What do you know--what can you do?" he asked.
"Better ask me what I _can't_ do!" replied the new man; "I can do
a bit of anything and everything!"
"You can drink _vodka_, _I_ warrant!" said one of the Souls, "or you'd
have pockets in your clothes and something inside them!" This was in
rude allusion to the attire of the new-comer.
"Well, if you come to that, brother," said that ragged individual,
"the moujik who doesn't take kindly to _vodka_ is like a fish who
can't swim; I can drink _vodka_ as well as most--try me, if you
don't believe it."
"Do you understand the duties of a pastuch?" the starost inquired. The
man laughed scornfully.
"You give me a pastuch's pipe, starost, and I'll show you what I can
do! I can blow the pipe so that not only the cows of my own village
follow me home, but the cattle from the next village as well! Why, all
the _liéshuie_ (wood-spirits) come flying up from miles around when I
play, and settle on the trees like _riabchiks_ (tree partridges) to
listen! Wolves come and fawn at my feet! You won't find a pastuch like
me in all Russia!"
The fact is, the stranger was exceedingly anxious to obtain the
situation of pastuch; it was just the sort of loafing work to suit
him; hence his eloquence.
Now, when the patron of a situation is no less anxious to give away
the office at his disposal than the candidate is to obtain it, there
is not much need to waste words over the appointment; accordingly,
Radion Vasilitch was speedily engaged as the village pastuch, at a
salary of four roubles per month, and entered at once upon his duties.
The appointment was made none too soon; for the very next day was that
on which the cattle were annually allowed to make their first
excursion beyond their own yard gates. Radion appeared in full pastuch
costume at earliest morn, and blew his long horn or pipe in a manner
which proved that he was no novice in the accomplishment. Out came the
cows into the street, a noisy, happy herd, lowing and gambolling in
exuberant but ungainly joy, for they were very naturally delighted to
learn that their long captivity was over. Each house contributed its
one or two or four cows to the herd as Radion passed trumpeting down
the street, and at last the starost's house was reached.
"Starost!" shouted Radion, "aren't you going to do what is necessary
for the safety of the herd before I take them into the woods?"
"What do you mean?" asked the chief Soul, who was standing in
_déshabille_ at his own yard gate, watching the pastuch and his
charge.
"Why, about the wood-goblins. It is better to propitiate them--we
always did so on the first day of the season at Kirilova!"
"This is not Kirilova, my brother," said the starost, "but Kushlefka.
We have no wood-spirits here. A good pastuch is better than charms and
ceremonies."
"Very well; but don't blame me if anything happens!" said Radion; and
blowing a mighty blast upon his strident instrument, he accompanied
his cows down the road. Presently the whole party branched off to the
left across the ditch--the cows jumping it, most of them, in the
inimitable manner of their tribe--struck across a patch of sandy
common, reached a stretch of green pasture-land beyond, distributed
themselves over this natural banqueting-hall in picturesque blotches
of whites and reds and blacks, and so gradually passed out of sight
and went their happy way until the evening. The villagers meanwhile
would see no more of them, but left them in perfect confidence to the
care of the pastuch, who received, or was to receive, the sum of four
roubles per month for thus taking the cows "off their minds."
Radion performed his work with perfect success, and brought his herd
home safely, in spite of the danger to be apprehended from _liéshuie_
and their chosen agents for destruction, the wolves and bears.
Days passed, and still all went well. Radion's playing of the blatant
cowhorn was all that he had described it, and his success as pastuch
was complete. He occasionally brought back with him a hare which he
had managed, somehow, to capture; or a greyhen, whom he had discovered
upon her nest with nine little cheeping blackcock beneath her. Radion
had none of the chivalry of the sportsman, and thought nothing of
taking the "matka," or mother-bird, from her helpless fledglings,
leaving them to starvation, or to the foxes and the grey-hooded crows.
The game thus acquired he would distribute as gifts to those of the
wives of the moujiks who had the most cows, for Radion's aim in life,
as is the aim and object of every true Russian peasant, was "_na
chaiok_," or tea money, so called because tea would be the very last
thing upon which any moujik would think of laying out a gratuity.
Radion hoped, then, for substantial _na chaioks_ at the end of the
season from those whose large property in cattle he had safeguarded
successfully. But one fine evening, while the summer was yet young and
Radion still more or less of a novelty in the village, a terrible
thing happened, of a sort to make those in the community who had
laughed at the superstitious pastuch and his fears of the wood-goblins
to look grave, and ask themselves whether there was not, after all,
more in this question of old-time superstitions than appeared at first
sight. True, the villagers had never hitherto had any reason to fear
the _liéshuie_, or indeed to regard them as anything more than mere
story-book beings, having no existence save in the pages of nursery
literature and in the brains of loafers like Radion; but now....
The facts of the matter were as follows. Radion brought home the herd
of cows on a certain evening _one short_. The pastuch arrived from the
pasture looking pale and haggard, escorted the herd as far as the
village street, and himself turned aside into the house of the
starost, whom he found lying asleep upon the top of his stove. Radion
spent a considerable time bowing and crossing himself before the
_ikon_, prostrating himself several times and touching with his
forehead the bare boards of the floor. Then he turned his wild eyes
towards the chief peasant of the village.
"Starost," he said, "a fearful thing has happened. The _liéshuie_
are against us. We have offended the Spirits of the Forest, in whose
service are the bears and the wolves. Let us propitiate them before it
is too late, or a worse thing may happen!"
"Worse than what?" asked the starost. "It appears to me, my brother,
that you are drunk."
"I may be a little drunk, brother Ivan Ivanich," replied Radion, "but
who would not take a little drop if he had been chased by two enormous
wolves and laughed at by the king of the _liéshuie_ himself?"
"Are you sure it was not a _bielaya kooropatka_ (willow grouse)?"
said the unbelieving starost. "Even sober men have ere now mistaken
the cry of the _kooropatka_ for the laugh of a wood-goblin."
"And what of the wolves, your charitableness, and the cow that is
eaten up together with her bones and skin?" retorted the offended
pastuch.
"What!" cried Ivan Ivanich, starting to his feet; "not one of
_my_ cows, Radion Vasilitch?" The starost was serious enough now!
"Yes, Ivan Ivanich; and the best cow in the village, and the fattest.
Do you think the wolf-hunters of the _liéshuie_ do not know which is
the pick of the herd? As for me, though I blew my horn--yes, and
cracked my long whip at them and shouted--all I could do was to
attract their attention to myself instead of to the cow. Starost, I
would not again go through that fearful chase for ten times four
roubles a month. They pursued me to the foot of a tree, Ivan
Ivanich--it is a true word" (here Radion turned towards the _ikon_
and crossed himself); "and had I not remembered to call upon the holy
saint and equal to the Apostles, my patron, they would have eaten me
as well as the cow Masha! As it was, from the top of a tree I saw
the furious beasts fall upon poor Masha, tear her to pieces, and eat
her entirely up, so that not a trace remained, while an invisible
_liéshui_ spirit laughed aloud until every particle was consumed.
Then the wolves came licking their lips, to the foot of my tree, and,
looking up at me, howled three times and vanished. It was with
difficulty that I succeeded in reaching the village, for my knees
have no strength, and my heart is as the heart of a lamb or of a
sucking-pig after this terrible day."
The starost looked grave and troubled. That these wolves should have
appeared after Radion's warning as to _liéshuie_ was curious. That
they should have selected his cow would surely indicate a deliberate
intention on the part of the spirits--if, indeed, the spirits were at
the bottom of the trouble--to accentuate the significance of their
action; for they had eaten Masha, and that cow represented the
starost; therefore the _liéshuie_ had struck their blow at the
starost, who, again, was the representative man of the community. This
surely would mean that the spirits desired to demonstrate their
displeasure with the community through their representative, the
starost. A meeting of the Mir was held that very evening in order to
discuss the situation, and a Soul was sent on horseback to the priest
of the district, five miles away, to ask for guidance in the emergency
which had arisen. Late at night the deputy returned to the village
bearing a message from the priest. The message was extremely to the
point, though very short, and ran thus: "Tell the starost and his
moujiks and the pastuch that they are a set of drivelling fools. The
only spirits they have to keep clear of are _vodka_ and cognac."
This was encouraging, if somewhat lacking in courtesy. But a
difficulty arose. The pastuch professed to be so terrified with his
experiences of the preceding day that he really could not bring
himself to enter the woods again unless the usual ceremonies were
first performed to protect the herd from the perils of the forest.
However, a _na chaiok_ of a rouble from the public funds proved a
strong argument, and Radion was persuaded to convoy his cows as usual
into their pastures.
All went well on this occasion and the day after, but on the evening
of the third day another catastrophe happened. Radion returned _minus_
two more of the cattle placed under his care--a second cow and the
only bull of the herd. Radion himself was in a terrible state. He
raved and laughed and cried and cursed like one demented. To the
ordinary observer he would have appeared to be merely rather far gone
in alcoholic poisoning; but this, of course, could not be the case:
the _znaharka_, the wise woman of the village, said so. It was the
simple and natural result of great terror, she explained. In all
probability he had seen the _liéshuie_ or, at least, their
wolf-slaves, and the terror of it had maddened him.
This proved to be the case; for after a night's rest Radion was so far
recovered that he gave a history of the events of the preceding day.
These were, it appeared, almost a repetition of those of last week,
excepting that, in addition to the horrors before experienced, a huge
bear had come out of the forest, as well as the two wolves, and had
eaten an entire cow to itself. After the meal it had climbed the tree
upon which the affrighted Radion had taken refuge, seated itself
beside him, growled and roared three times in his face, and climbed
down again, tearing his trousers as it did so. Radion showed a long
slit in the leg of his nether garments, which, of course, proved the
truth of his story.
After this there could be no further shilly-shallying. The _znaharka_
called upon the starost, and spoke to that official very seriously
upon the subject. She knew, she explained, the details of the proper
function to be performed before a herd can be considered safe from
interference by the _liéshuie_, and would be pleased to take the
management of the affair into her hands. Her fee was three roubles.
The cattle could not possibly be sent to pasture again before this
most necessary function had been performed. No one would send their
cows out under the circumstances--how could they? It was tempting
Providence; or, at all events, insulting the wood-spirits, which came
to the same thing. Besides, the pastuch had declared he would not go
out again, and who was to take his place?
A meeting of the Mir was convened without further delay, and it was
determined to allow the wise woman to proceed with her preparations.
On the morrow, early in the morning, the ceremony should be performed.
On this particular day the cows remained at home. Radion could not
think of risking his life a third time, and as for the owners of the
cows, there was hardly one who would have been foolhardy enough to
allow his cattle to wander through the woods under present
circumstances.
When the morrow came the _znaharka_ was at hand as the herd moved
down the street in order to watch which of the cows took the lead, for
her first ceremony was dependent upon that circumstance. Having fixed
upon the leader she tied a bit of red wool round its neck. This was a
symbol that thus henceforth were the throats of the wild beasts bound,
lest they should swallow the cows. Next the _znaharka_ walked
solemnly three times round the entire herd, locking and unlocking a
padlock the while, in token that thus were the jaws of the grey wolves
locked, lest they should rend the cattle. After the third time the
padlock was finally locked and buried.
Then came a sort of liturgy which the wise woman pronounced standing
in front of the herd, the meek animals being much surprised at the
proceedings, and at the unusual delay in allowing them to get away to
their pasture.
"Deaf man, canst thou hear us? No. Then pray God the grey wolf may not
hear our cattle in the forest.
"Lame man, canst thou overtake us? Nay, I cannot. Then pray God that
the grey wolves overtake not these cows.
"Blind man, canst thou see us? No. Then pray God the grey wolf may not
perceive our cattle in the woods."
This was the end of the function, and the poor cows, who had been
somewhat impatiently whisking away the mosquitoes and horseflies for
the last half hour, were at length allowed to proceed. Radion
expressed himself satisfied and went after them; he was no longer
afraid of the wood-spirits, he declared; they were now powerless to
harm him.
After this, matters went quietly enough at Kushlefka. Nothing happened
to the herd or to the pastuch himself, for both were protected by the
solemnities conducted as above by the _znaharka_. But the bull which
had formed a meal for the two demon wolves on the occasion of their
second attack upon the herd was still unreplaced, and it was necessary
to buy one somewhere. The starost, therefore, allowed it to be known
far and wide that Kushlefka was in need of a bull and open to offers.
In a few days bulls began to come in, bulls of every kind; but for
some little while the right bull could not be found: one was too
savage, another too big, a third too small. A week went by and still
Kushlefka remained without the head and ornament to its herd of cows.
Then a most curious and astonishing circumstance happened. One
morning, not long after the pastuch had set out with his cattle for
the day's wandering over moor and grass-land, a man arrived from a
village distant some seven or eight miles through the forest,
accompanied by a bull whose appearance filled the minds of those who
witnessed its arrival with astonishment and some awe. If they had not
already known that old Vasilice, the late lord of the herd, was in his
grave, or rather in the stomachs of two grey demon-wolves of the
forest, they would have said that this new bull was Vasilice
_redivivus_. He was strangely like. From the brown stocking on
his off hind-leg to the one black ear and browny-black patch on his
nose--big white body and all--he was the very image of Vasilice. What
made it the more astonishing was that no sooner did the animal arrive
in the village street than he walked straight to the lodgings of the
late lamented Vasilice, and would take no denial, but must needs be
let into the yard, and thence to the cowshed, where he immediately
sniffed about as one who knows the lie of the land, helping himself,
presently, to hay and other delicacies which he found to hand, as
though it were his own of right. In vain his owner tried to turn him
out of shed and yard; he would not budge; indeed, he surveyed the man
with a look of mild surprise, as who should say, "What on earth is the
matter with _you_? Go back to Drevnik if you like, but as for me,
I stay here!"
Deep was the astonishment of Kushlefka. This thing was a mystery.
Could the bull be the spirit of the departed Vasilice? Some of the
spectators spat on the ground, some crossed themselves; it depended
upon how the thing suggested took them.
But stay; the starost has an idea. Vasilice used to have a faint mark
of an old brand, a mere scar on the off hindquarter. Ivan Ivanich
entered the shed and made a close inspection of the animal.
When he came out his face was grave; but his glance was serene and
high, as of one who has triumphed over mysteries, and has discerned
light through the darkness.
"It is Vasilice," he said. "Where did you buy him, brother?"
"At Drevnik, your mercifulness," replied the seller.
"And from whom?"
"From a stranger, a pastuch, who drove him, with a fine cow, into
Drevnik--oh--a fortnight ago nearly; he said he had been commissioned
to sell the pair by a moujik in Koltusha, which your mercifulness
knows is twenty miles away, and that----"
"Should you know the man again?" interrupted the starost.
"Certainly, for we drank together for half an hour at the _kabak_,
after the bargain for the bull and cow. A ragged pastuch--lantern-jawed,
and red-hair--and with a scrag beard----"
"Good," said the starost. "You shall have back the money you paid for
Vasilice, and a three-rouble note for your trouble! Now leave him here
and come back to-morrow with the cow. Brothers," he continued, "not a
word to Radion about the bull Vasilice when he returns! I will settle
with Radion to-morrow."
Then the starost paid a long visit to Yegor, the _ochotnik_ (sportsman)
of the village, and made certain arrangements. Yegor was a great hunter
and had slain many bears and wolves, making a good living by the sale
of their skins.
* * * * *
On the following day, while Radion was loafing the morning away amid
his cows, counting his ill-gotten gains and meditating as to how he
should spend them as soon as he got safely out of Kushlefka and back
home again, he suddenly perceived something which sent his lazy blood,
for once, coursing through his veins at a speed which made the beating
of his heart a painful function. Issuing from the dark fringe of the
forest, which lay but a short fifty yards away, came a procession
alarming enough to frighten, out of his very wits, a man with five
times the courage of Radion; first a bear--a big one--and at his heels
two wolves. Behind the wolves came a wild shape--half human, but with
the head of a bear. The procession moved slowly in Radion's direction,
who, his limbs being fixed and rigid with terror, was entirely unable
to move. Not so the herd. Snorting and bellowing, with tails up and
heads down, every cow was instantly in motion, and galloping for dear
life across the moor. Radion would have shrieked in the anguish of his
fright, but his tongue clave to his palate, and he could utter no
sound but a hoarse rattle. He tried to pray and to cross himself, but
could not raise his arm.
By this time the awful procession had reached him and stood motionless
around him. If Radion had not been half dead with fear he must have
noticed something strange about the style of locomotion of the
terrible beasts, as well as a certain fixedness of expression about
the eyes of all four. But he was too far gone to observe anything. At
last the figure, half man and half beast, spoke:
"Radion--Radion," it said sepulchrally, "liar! Where are the bull
Vasilice and the cows Masha and Katia?"
Radion's dry lips moved, but he could utter never a word.
"Radion--liar!" the voice continued, "you have lied in the village to
the dishonour of the liéshuie, of whom I am king. Where is the money
you received for Vasilice and the two cows?" Radion's hand made a
movement towards his wallet, but had not strength to carry itself so
far.
"Radion--liar and thief," continued the king of the _liéshuie_ "you
are doomed--you must die! Advance wolves, tear and destroy; rend,
bear!"
But before the terrific animals could obey the injunctions of their
leader, Radion's tongue had freed itself, and with a fearful yell the
unfortunate pastuch fell senseless upon the heather.
Then that mercenary _liéshui_ king relieved Radion of his wallet,
after which he retired quickly into the forest followed by his three
slaves, carrying their heads under their arms, the weather being hot.
When Radion returned to the village at night, his face was as the
countenance of those who have been through great tribulation; and when
the herd awaited the sound of his horn next morning, and wandered
aimlessly about the village street, headed by Vasilice _redivivus_
(whom they were very glad to see back again among them), they were
doomed to a sad disappointment; for it was discovered that their
faithful pastuch had departed, leaving no address.