The day of the birth of Nikitich had been a day of trouble for wide
distances across the open steppe. For upon that wonderful day a
great storm seemed to arise, and yet not a great storm but a strange
commotion, unseen, unheard, but keenly felt. From far across the open
plain came a herd of beasts, wild beasts and fearsome dragons large
and small, and sought the shallow valley of the Dnieper river. At
their head ran the Skiper-beast, with woolly fleece, twisted horn,
and hoofs which struck sparks from the pebbles of flint. Then the
waters of the Dnieper were strangely troubled, the banks of the river
quaked and fell, and trees which once had waved upright now spanned
the stream. Such had been the day of the birth of Nikitich.
Now when he grew up to youthful manhood, Nikitich sought service in the
royal household of Prince Vladimir, and though he was of supernatural
wisdom, having learnt to read and write, he served with the rest,
for three years in the palace, for three years in the royal gardens,
and for three years as keeper of the gate; but for all his faithful
service he won no praise of Vladimir and no reward except a horse of
the finest mettle, and he was kept always within the confines of the
royal palace. But at a certain princely banquet Nikitich rose to his
feet in his place at one end of the oaken board, and said:
"Prince Vladimir, Fair Sun of royal Kiev, I have served thee long and
faithfully, but always within the confines of the royal palace. Give
me leave to wander farther, and first of all through the narrow lanes
of Kiev town."
"Young nestling," said Prince Vladimir, "fly not from the nest. Young
colt of the open steppe, gallop not away." But the heroes of Holy
Russia who sat at the board of Prince Vladimir had pity upon the
young man and they said, "Go, Nikitich, and ask your mother." Then
Vladimir laughed and gave the young man leave.
And the counsel of the mother of Nikitich ran thus:
"Walk at will through all the streets of Kiev town and roam through
all the little by-ways. But avoid a certain little lane where dwells
the Princess Marina, for she is a witch of the vilest who has brought
to their death many Tsars and Tsareviches, Kings, and Crown Princes,
nobles and their heirs. If you go near the Princess Marina you will
lose your life."
But, sad to tell, the counsel had this effect upon the young man,
that he longed most of all to go to the certain little lane where
dwelt the Princess Marina.
On the next day he rose very early and washed himself very white in
clear water from the spring. Then he took his stout bow in his hand
and slung his quiver of gleaming arrows upon his back. He wandered on
through the streets and narrow lanes and came at length to a certain
little lane where he found the palace of the Princess Marina. It was
finely built and richly adorned, while in the window of one apartment
sat a mated pair of dark-blue doves cooing lovingly with yellow bill
to yellow bill and wing enfolding wing. Then Nikitich fitted a flaming
arrow to his stout bow and shot at the cooing doves, but as the shaft
was leaving the string his left foot slipped and his right hand shook
so that the arrow missed the loving birds, went singing through the
lattice-window and slew the favourite of the Princess Marina who was
known as the Son of the Dragon and was known for nothing good.
"If I go into the palace," said Nikitich to himself, "I shall lose my
head. If I do not go, I shall lose my arrow." So he called to his page,
who always walked or stood three paces behind him, and sent him into
the palace to seek for the arrow.
"Thou witch and sorceress," said the bold page to the Princess,
"return to us our burning arrow."
"Nay," said Marina, "let him who sent it come to ask for it." And
when this was told to Nikitich he ran quickly into the courtyard of
the palace and from thence to the apartment of the Princess Marina
and took the shaft from the body of the Son of the Dragon. Marina lay
upon a couch which was covered with a broad mantle of marten skins
and fondled a fiery dragon with her right hand, while she played with
two poisonous serpents with her left. As soon as Nikitich entered the
room she sprang to her nimble feet and stretched out her lily-white
hands to him:
"Sweet Nikitich," she said looking at him with honey eyes and sugar
lips, "stay with me always and I will teach you to calm the fiery
dragon and charm the poisonous serpent. You shall rest all day and
no foe, however powerful, will be able to harm you."
"Sweet Marina," answered the young man, who was really in a very
great hurry, "I will not. I have no desire to calm the fiery dragon
and charm the poisonous serpent but to fight and kill them. Nor would
rest without labour have any charms for me. Besides I know your guile,
for you have brought nine brave Russian heroes to their end and now
are minded to put an end to me." Then he turned abruptly from the
apartment in spite of all the sweet glances of Marina, who was really
very lovely, and went home again to his mother with his fiery dart
in his hand.
As soon as he was gone, Marina seized her dagger, and from the clay
floor of the apartment she hacked out the footprints of Nikitich. Then
she painted the pieces of earth with many devices in various colours
and said her verses over them as she placed them in an oven to bake:
"Burn ye footsteps of Nikitich, burn in this oven, burn, burn; and
as his footsteps burn may his heart burn to return to me."
Now as the witch spoke these words Nikitich felt a strange longing and
uneasiness fall upon his spirit. He sat down at night by the fair white
oaken table but he could eat no food; when he went to rest he could not
sleep but lay tossing about and waiting with impatience for the coming
of the white dawn. At the first bell for prayers he rose, dressed
himself, went first to the cathedral service, and then took his way
to a certain little lane in Kiev town where lived the Princess Marina.
He entered the apartment of the Princess slowly and with downcast
eyes; but she turned her white shoulders upon him and did not reply
to his greeting.
"Ah, sweet Marina," said the enchanted youth, "I have come to stay
with you always, for since yesterday I have had no peace of mind
apart from you."
"I asked you yesterday to stay with me, Nikitich," said the
enchantress, "and you would not. So now you are in my power. If I
wish, I can turn you into a raven, a magpie, a pig, or a heroic ox
with golden horns, silver hoofs, and a coat as sleek as velvet, or
even into a loathsome frog. And if I change you into a frog no power
on earth or in the sky or in the sea, or in the underworld can change
you again so that your spiteful mother will know you."
Then by a slight movement of her lily-white hand she turned the young
man into a heroic ox with golden horns, silver hoofs, and a coat as
sleek as velvet. And she drove him out into the open steppe to drink
swamp water and to eat marsh grass and to be lord over the nine brown
oxen which had once been Russian heroes, strong and mighty. Now as
he roamed about the plain not far away from the dwellings of Kiev,
he saw a flock of geese which belonged to his aunt; and wickedness
entered into his heart, so that he trampled the whole gabbling flock
to death down to the very last gosling. Then the goose-girls went
to their mistress and with much shaking of dark locks and heaving of
white shoulders they told their tale.
As soon as they had finished their story the swan-keepers came with a
similar tale, and then the shepherds, and after these the herdsmen. Not
a living creature of all the flocks and herds had the golden-horned
monster spared.
"I know," said the aunt of Nikitich, "whence comes this fierce
beast. It is my well-beloved Nikitich whom the vile witch Marina has
changed by her sorcery." Even as she spoke the horse-keepers came to
tell how the animal had driven the steeds before him so that all had
been lost far over the open steppe, dispersed and driven away many
miles from Kiev city. Then the aunt of Nikitich rose in white anger,
and by means of a secret charm she knew she changed herself into a
chattering magpie and flew away to the palace of Marina, where she
perched herself upon the sill of the lattice-window and began to
scold with all her might and to say:
"Wicked Marina, the ugly! Why have you turned my nephew Nikitich into
a golden-horned heroic ox, and set him free to roam across the open
steppe? Take off your charm from my nephew or I will turn you into a
long-tailed dog to be chased through the lanes of Kiev by the children,
or into a chattering magpie full of guile and spleen."
Now at the game of changes no one could excel Marina, and when she
heard the threat of the aunt of Nikitich she changed herself into
a grey swallow and flew over the head of the chattering magpie far
away across the open steppe. After a long flight she came to the
golden-horned heroic ox, and alighting upon his head said in his ear:
"Promise me now, Nikitich, promise me with a great oath that you will
take the golden crowns with me, and I will turn you back into your
own shape again. Swear now, for you have roamed the wild steppe and
must needs be weary, and have wandered far by the bubbling marshes
and must needs be tired."
"Ah, sweet Marina," said Nikitich, glancing upward with a piteous look,
"only deliver me from the form of this heroic beast and I will take
the golden crowns with you. I will marry you, Marina, and will teach
you the little lessons which a wise husband imparts to an obedient
wife for her advantage."
Then Marina believed him and turned him into a goodly youth as he had
been when he first entered her apartment in search of his fiery dart;
and she changed herself into a lovely bride, but she could not change
the emerald hue of her eyes.
"Now I will wed you, Marina," said the wise Nikitich. "Round this
bush we go, three times round this willow bush, and then you may call
Nikitich your husband if you will." So round the bush they went,
hand in hand, three times round the willow bush, while the eyes of
the beautiful bride gleamed greener than ever before.
So the bride and bridegroom came, side by side, to the palace of
Marina, where Nikitich called to one of the servants:
"Ho, there, bring me a cup of green wine, and a sword of damascened
steel, sharp and bright."
At these words the witch bride put forth her spells again and turned
her bridegroom into a little ermine and began to frighten him. Then
she turned him into a falcon, but by her witchcraft she was able to
prevent him from flying anywhere except round and round her head.
"I cannot fly like the falcon clear," said Nikitich, "I can only
flap my wings up and down. Give me, I beg of you, a cup of green wine
to drink."
Then as if to delight her own eyes and tease him still further, the
witch bride turned him once more into a goodly young man who shouted
out again:
"Ho, there, bring me a cup of green wine and a sword of damascened
steel, sharp and bright."
Once more Marina raised her lily-white hands and began to perform
her enchantments. But before she could change her bridegroom again
the servant stood at his side with the cup of wine in one hand and
the sword in the other. Nikitich set aside the wine and taking the
sword in his hands cut off the head of Marina with one sharp stroke.
In the morning, as the young man went to his bath, a great company
of princes and nobles met him in the passage:
"Hail, Nikitich," they cried courteously. "How is it with your bride?"
"Hail, princes and nobles, heroes and courtiers of Vladimir," said
the young man with a jolly laugh. "Last night I was wedded and no
longer alone. This morning I am alone and no longer wedded, for I
have cut off the head of my troublesome bride, who had brought to
their death many heroes and princes of Holy Russia."
Then he went to his bath, and returning to the court of Vladimir
was given a seat in the great corner while he told his wonderful
adventure. "There is no need," said the Prince, "to cross the boundless
plain for strange happenings, for to the adventurous the adventure
may come in a narrow lane."
But in spite of the words of his Prince, Nikitich now longed to roam
the open plain to seek fresh adventures. So he set out on the very
next day and wandered on and on until he came to a wide-spreading oak
on which a pied raven, half of whose wings were white, sat croaking,
croaking, croaking. So harsh was its voice that Nikitich strung his
bow, fitted a flaming arrow to the cord and prepared to shoot the
croaking bird. But as he did so the raven put its head on one side
and spoke to him in the speech of Holy Russia.
"Hail now, little Nikitich, the adventurer. Do not kill me and I will
make known to you all kinds of secrets. Do not the little ones of the
lanes and streets say to one another, 'There is no wisdom in killing
an old man, and he who shoots a raven makes no broth.' Now that I see
your bow unstrung I will tell you something worth knowing in return
for your forbearance. By the lofty mountain across the steppe there
are three wonders, even three marvellous damsels. The first is a lily
for whiteness, the second is a rose for redness, and the third is a
violet for darkness. More beautiful are they than the spring flowers
on the steppe. How is this for an adventure on a fine morning for
Nikitich the slayer of dragon brides?"
Now Nikitich had succeeded so well in his first adventure that he
was burning to try a second. So he lowered his bow and reflected a
little before he spoke. Then he said:
"What you have quoted of the children's wisdom must be true and I
will try the adventure. It is better to go to the lofty mountain and
see with my own eyes the lily, the rose, and the violet, those three
marvels of beauty, than that I should prove my valour by shooting a
raven." Then the pied bird flew away, croaking, croaking, croaking.
Nikitich turned his horse and rode, quickly, very quickly, very, very
quickly, and with heroic speed, towards the lofty mountain far away
across the open steppe, and at the foot of this mountain he found a
pavilion of fair white linen embroidered with gold. "This is a fitting
dwelling for three marvellous damsels," said the young man to himself,
"the first a lily for whiteness, the second a rose for redness, and
the third a violet for darkness. But it seems to me that either they
are not at home or they have locked up their beauty very securely;"
for the entrance to the pavilion was secured by a stout bar on which
was a lock of damascened steel. The young man alighted, spread fine
wheat for his horse near the entrance of the pavilion, planted his
spear in the bosom of moist Mother Earth, and went forward to look
more closely at the lock, upon which he found this inscription:
"Whoso enters this pavilion shall not come thence alive."
This was, of course, a direct invitation to an adventurous youth,
and with one blow of his fist Nikitich struck the lock from its place
and it fell to the earth at his feet. Then he removed the beam and
pushed his way into the pavilion, where he saw tables set with food
of the richest and wine of the greenest. He looked round warily,
his hand upon his sword, and even searched beneath the tables, but
found neither hero nor damsels in all the place. So he sat down at
one table and ate well and drank too well, for as soon as he was
satisfied he began to throw food and wine about the floor. When he
was weary of this foolish exercise, he lay down to sleep.
For a long time he slept, dreaming of lilies, roses, and violets, and
knew not that even as he slumbered the owner of that fair pavilion was
speeding across the open steppe. This was the hero Alyosha of the court
of Prince Vladimir, who arrived breathless to find a steed feeding
quietly before his pavilion, and a sleeper within who had eaten well
and drunk too well and then had thrown food and wine about the floor.
Now at this sight Alyosha grew very angry, and his turbulent heart
boiled within him. His pointed spear was in his hand, and in a moment
his anger suggested to him that he could easily punish Nikitich
for his fault. But he put aside the idea with disgust, for he was a
hero and a gentleman. "I shall win no honour," he said to himself,
"if I kill a sleeping man who is no better than a dead one." Then he
reflected for a few moments, smiled gently, went out of the pavilion
and mounted not his own horse but the good steed of Nikitich.
Holding his spear reversed, he rode into the pavilion and struck
the sleeper on the breast with the butt end of it. Nikitich sat up
suddenly, sprang to his nimble feet, from which he had cast his shoes
before falling asleep, and grasping his mace in his right hand prepared
to defend himself against all comers. Then a stern fight began within
the pavilion to the sound of tumbling tables, breaking crockery and
crashing glass. All day they fought without ceasing even to snatch up
a bite of food; all night the fight went on with never a draught of
wine to slake their thirst. For two more days and two more nights the
combat continued, and then there came a clap of thunder loud enough
to wake Svyatogor from his sleep among the Holy Mountains.
Now Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck heard that sound and he said to
himself, "Somewhere in the white world Russian heroes are fighting
one another. That is not well, for their strength must be kept for
battle with accursed Tatars."
So he saddled his good steed Cloudfall, and those who watched his
preparations for his ride saw him mount, but they did not see him as he
rode, so quickly sped the shaggy bay steed across the open steppe. In
a short space of time he came to the lofty mountain, and entering
the pavilion saw the two young men fighting amidst the remnants of a
feast. Then he seized Nikitich by his right hand and Alyosha by his
left and shouted in a heroic voice, "Why fight against each other,
ye heroes of Holy Russia?"
Alyosha was the first to speak. "Ah," he said, "thou Old Cossáck,
Ilya of Murom, how could I refrain from punishing Nikitich? For I
prepared a banquet within my own pavilion and this fellow unbarred
the door, sat down by himself to eat well and drink too well, and
then scattered the rich food and green wine about the floor!" As he
spoke, the voice of Alyosha rose higher and higher with indignation
until the last words were like the scream of a peacock in the garden
of the Princess Apraxia.
"You did well, Alyosha," said Ilya with a fatherly smile about his
lips, "for a man is no man who is not able to defend his own. And as
for you, Nikitich, how does it stand with your case?"
"I could do nothing in honour but fight," was the reply. "For
the inscription on the lock denied life to those who entered this
pavilion. It was but an invitation to an adventurer from the court
of Vladimir."
"You did well, Nikitich," said Ilya with a deep laugh in his eyes,
"to defend yourself against such odds, for a hero is no hero who is
not able to defend his own." Then he paused and looked at both of
the combatants, who presented a sorry spectacle. After that he looked
round about the wrecked pavilion which had been intended as a place
of entertainment for heroes and bold warrior maids.
"It will be well, Nikitich," he said quietly, "if you stay to be
invited to the next feast that is laid in this pavilion, and well for
you, Alyosha, if you do not tempt brave men by forbidding them. Come
now, calm your heroic turbulent hearts and swear brotherhood with
exchange of crosses." Then the two heroes swore eternal friendship
with the exchange of crosses, and they all set out for the court
of Vladimir, who when he saw them and heard their story laughed in
his beard.
"It is not wise, Nikitich," he said, "to expect to win a bride in
each day's adventure."
Then they went in to supper, and Ilya of Murom sat in the great corner
that night and it was he who told the tale.