In a far-off land lived a Tsar and a Tsaritza who had one son,
whom they named Ivan. They were very glad when he was born, and
placed him in a beautiful oaken cradle among pillows of the softest
down, covering him with a little eider-down quilt of silk from
Samarcand. The pillow on which rested his little head was ornamented
with drawn-thread work and all was cosy and comfortable, but try
as they would the nurse-maidens--and they were pretty ladies of the
highest degree--could not rock Ivan Tsarevich to sleep. Softly they
sang and sweetly they crooned, but the young prince roared lustily,
tossed off the coverlet, kicked out the pillow, and beat the sides
of the cradle with his little fists.
At last the nurse-maidens lost all patience and they cried out to the
Tsar, "Little Father, Little Father, come and rock your own son." So
the Tsar sat down by the side of the cradle, placed his great toe
upon the rocker, and said:
"Sleep, little son, sleep, sleep, sleep. Soon you will be a man, and
then I will get you Peerless Beauty as a bride. She is the daughter
of three mothers, the granddaughter of three grandmothers, and the
sister of nine brothers."
He made this promise once only, and it had such a soothing effect upon
the restless Tsarevich that he went to sleep and continued sleeping
for three days and three nights, during which time the nurse-maidens
sat and praised his beauty among themselves. But they ceased talking
as soon as he woke up again, for now he cried more loudly than ever,
tossed off the coverlet, kicked out the pillow, and beat the sides
of the cradle with his little fists.
Once again the nurse-maidens tried to console him and to rock him to
sleep, for they loved and admired him best in his slumbers; but he
refused to sleep, and they were forced to call out, "Little Father,
Little Father, come and rock your own son."
The Tsar came once more to the cradle of his son and made the wonderful
promise, whereupon the child fell asleep again and slept for three
days and three nights.
But when he woke up he was as naughty as before, and for a third time
the nurse-maidens had to call in the help of the Little Father.
When the Tsarevich awoke the third time he stood upon his cradle and
said, "Bless me, Little Father, for I am going to my wedding."
"My dear son," said the Tsar in great wonderment, "you are altogether
only nine days old. How can you marry?"
"That shall be as it is," said the Tsarevich, "and if you will not
give me your blessing I fear I must marry without it."
"Well, well," said the Tsar, "may all good go with you." Then he was
not in the least surprised to see his son step down from the cradle
a full-grown youth of goodly shape, call for clothes suitable to his
age--they were all ready to hand--and then go forth to the stable. On
the way across the courtyard he met an old man who looked at him
and said:
"Young man, where are you going?"
"Mind your own business," said the young prince. But when he had
gone forward a little he stopped and said to himself, "That was a
mistake. Old people know many useful things." So he turned again and
went after the old man.
"Stop, stop, grandfather," he said, "what was the question which you
put to me?"
"I asked you," said the ancient, "where you were going, and now I add
to my question. Are you going there of your own free will or against
your will?"
"I am going of my own free will," said the Tsarevich, "and twice
as much against my will. I was in my cradle when my father came to
me and promised to get me Peerless Beauty as a bride. She is the
daughter of three mothers, the granddaughter of three grandmothers,
and the sister of nine brothers. So I suppose I must go to seek her."
"You are a courteous youth," said the old man, "and deserve to take
advantage of the knowledge of the aged. You cannot go on foot to seek
out Peerless Beauty, for she lives at the edge of the white world at
the place where the sun peeps up. It is called the Golden Kingdom of
the East."
"What shall I do?" asked the Tsarevich, thrusting his hands into his
belt and standing with feet wide apart. "I have no horse of mettle
or whip of silk for such a ride."
"Why, your father has thirty horses of the best," said the old man,
"and the trouble with you will be to make a wise choice. Go to the
stables and tell the grooms to take the thirty to bathe in the deep
blue sea. When they come to the shore you will see one of them push
forward into the water up to its neck and drink. When this happens
watch with care to see if the waves rise high and break in foam upon
the beach. If so, take that horse, for it will bear you safely to
the edge of the white world and to the place where the sun peeps up,
which is called the Golden Kingdom of the East."
"Thanks and thanks again, good grandfather," said the Tsarevich, who
went on to the stables and selected his heroic steed in the manner
described by the old man. On the following morning the Tsarevich
was preparing this horse for the journey when it turned its head and
spoke to him in the speech of Holy Russia:
"Ivan Tsarevich," it said, "fall down upon the lap of moist Mother
Earth and I will push you three times." The youth was so much
astonished to hear the horse speak that he found it no difficult matter
to fall down. Then the horse pushed him once and pushed him a second
time, but after that it looked at the youth for a little time and said,
"That will suffice, for if I push you a third time moist Mother Earth
will not be able to bear you." So the Tsarevich rose to his feet,
saddled his horse, and set out. His father and those about him saw
him as he mounted, but they did not see him as he rode. It was only
a smoke wreath on the open boundless plain and he was gone. Far, far
away he rode until the day grew short and the long night came on. As
the darkness fell the rider came to a house as large as a town, with
rooms each as big as a village. At the great door he got down from his
horse and tied the bridle to a copper ring in the door-post. Then he
went into the first room and said to an old woman whom he found there:
"May God be good to this house. I should be glad to be permitted to
spend the night here."
"Where are you journeying?" asked the old woman.
"That is not the first question," said the Tsarevich. "Give me food
to eat and wine to drink, then put me next into a warm sleeping
chamber. In the morning ask me whether I have slept in peace and
then ask where I may be journeying." And the old woman did so, just
as the Tsarevich had said.
Next morning she asked him the second question and he replied,
"I was in my cradle when my father came to me and promised to get me
Peerless Beauty as a bride. She is the daughter of three mothers, the
granddaughter of three grandmothers, and the sister of nine brothers."
"Good youth," said the old woman, "I am nearly seventy years of age,
but of Peerless Beauty I have never heard. But farther on the way
lives my elder sister. Perhaps she knows." Then Ivan Tsarevich went
out of the great house, and, after taking courteous leave of the
old woman, rode far away across the open steppe. All day he rode,
and as night was coming on he came to a second house as large as
a town, with each room as large as a village. He dismounted from
his horse, tied the bridle to a silver ring in the door-post, and
asked an old woman whom he met in the first room if he might have
a night's lodging. And here it happened as it had happened before,
only the old woman was eighty years of age.
"Farther on the road," she said, "lives my elder sister and she
has givers of answers. The first givers of answers are the fishes
and other dwellers in the heaving restless sea; the second givers
of answers are the wild beasts of the dark forests; and the third
givers of answers are the birds of the open air. Whatever is in the
whole white world is obedient to the will of my elder sister."
Once again Ivan Tsarevich set out and came to a house where he tied
his horse to a golden ring, and was received by an old, old woman
who screamed at him in a voice like a flock of peacocks:
"O you man of boldness, why have you tied your horse to a golden ring
when an iron ring would be too good for you?"
"Patience, good grandmother," said the Tsarevich gently, "it is easy
to loose the bridle and tie the horse to another ring."
"Ah, my good youth," said the old woman gently, and as one would speak
to a child, "did I frighten you? Sit down now on the bench and take
food and drink." Ivan did so, and then without being asked he told
the old woman where he was going and what was his quest.
"Go to your rest," she said shortly. "In the morning I will call my
givers of answers."
Next morning the old woman and the young man sat in the porch, and the
former gave a heroic whistle, whereupon the blue sea heaved in a great
heap, and the fishes, large and small, sea-serpents and sea-dragons,
rose upon the surface and made for the shore.
"Come no farther," said the old woman, raising her right hand. "Tell
me where this good youth can find Peerless Beauty." Then the answer
came from a million mouths, "We have not seen or heard of her."
The old woman blew her whistle and the forests echoed to the sound of
a million voices of wild beasts, but the answer to her question was,
"We have not seen or heard of her."
"Come hither," said the grandmother, "all ye birds of the air." And
in a moment the light of the sun was hidden and the sound of flapping
wings was like a tempest. But the answer of the birds to the question
was, "We have not seen or heard of her."
"My givers of answers fail me," said the ancient woman as she took
Ivan by the lily-white hand and led him into the house. Then there
flew through the open window the Mogol Bird which fell to the ground
at her feet.
"Ah, Mogol Bird," said the old woman, "whither hast thou come?"
"I come from the home of Peerless Beauty," was the tired reply,
"and I have been dressing her for Mass in the Cathedral."
The old woman clapped her hands in delight. "That is the news I seek,"
she said. "Now, Mogol Bird, do me a favour. Carry this young man,
Ivan Tsarevich, to the home of Peerless the Beauty."
"That I will," was the reply, "but we shall need a great deal of food."
"How much?" asked the old woman.
"Three hundredweight of beef," was the answer, "and a keg full
of water."
Ivan filled a large keg with water and placed it upon the back of the
Mogol Bird with the heaped-up piles of beef round about it. Then he
ran to the forge and told the smith to make him a long iron lance,
and with this weapon in his hand he sat on the edge of the keg with
the beef all round about him. Up rose the Mogol Bird and once it was
under way it flew so steadily that the top of the water in the keg
remained always level, but now and again the bird would slowly turn
its head and look at Ivan, when he would at once give it a large
piece of beef upon the point of his long iron lance.
Onward, and ever onward, flew the Mogol Bird, feeding on the beef and
drinking the water from Ivan's cap, which he extended at the point
of his lance, until all the meat and water were finished, whereupon
the Tsarevich threw the keg overboard.
"O Mogol Bird," he said, "haste to finish your journey, for there is
no more beef and there is no more water."
"I cannot go down to earth in this spot," said the bird, "for beneath
us there is nothing but a bog like glue. And I must have more meat. If
you cannot get beef, veal will do." So Ivan cut off the calves of his
own legs, and when the bird had refreshed itself it flew on till it
came to a green meadow with tall silken grass and blue flowers. Here
it flew down to earth, and Ivan alighted, but, of course, walked
very lame.
"What makes you halt, Ivan Tsarevich?" asked the Mogol Bird, and when
the young man told what he had done the bird blew upon the back of
his legs and restored him to his former condition.
On went the young man, eager to finish his quest, until he came to a
great town, where he entered a narrow street and found an old woman
in a poor, mean house, who seemed to be expecting him.
"Go to bed and sleep soundly after your flight, Ivan," she said,
"and when the bell rings I will call you."
The young man lay down and slept soundly, so soundly that when the bell
rang for early morning prayers not all the calling nor all the shaking,
nor all the shouting nor all the beating could rouse him. Then the bell
rang again for Mass, and the old grandmother tried once more, calling,
shaking, shouting, beating, but all with no result, until she took
a tiny feather and tickled the sleeper's nose. Then he awoke with a
start, washed himself very clean, dressed himself very carefully, and
went to Mass in the cathedral. He bowed first to the high altar, then
to North, South, East, and West, and especially to Peerless Beauty,
who knelt alone in the church. So Ivan Tsarevich knelt beside her and
then stood beside her while she prayed. When the service was over the
young man looked at Peerless Beauty, and looked again and yet again
without speaking, and while he looked six brave heroes came up from
the sea-shore and stood at the great door of the cathedral. Peerless
Beauty went to meet them with Ivan Tsarevich close behind her.
"What country clown is this?" cried the brave heroes, but Ivan
stepped before Peerless Beauty and swung his right arm in a circle
three times round; and when he stopped the heroes were lying at the
feet of the Princess in a heap of confusion.
Then Ivan Tsarevich went back to the old grandmother, who put
him to bed. On the second day it all fell out as on the first
occasion. Peerless Beauty looked at Ivan as he knelt in silence by
her side, and as she looked she blushed. On the third day it all
fell out as on the first in every particular except that when Ivan
entered the church Peerless Beauty gave him a silent salutation and
then came and stood at his left hand; and when the young man had laid
low six more scornful heroes Peerless Beauty took him by the hand,
and together, without a word, they went up to the priest and took
the golden crowns. After that they went home and feasted, and then
prepared to set out for the home of Ivan Tsarevich. Over the open
boundless plain they rode, speaking little, but looking much and
smiling frequently, until Peerless Beauty grew weary and lay down
to rest, while Ivan Tsarevich guarded her slumber. When she awoke
refreshed the bridegroom said:
"Now guard my slumbers, Peerless Beauty, for I am very weary."
"Will your sleep be short or long?" asked the bride.
"I shall sleep," said Ivan, "for no longer and no shorter than nine
days and nine nights. If you try to arouse me I shall not wake,
but when the end of the time comes I shall wake without any arousing."
"I shall be weary of waiting and watching, Ivan Tsarevich," said
Peerless Beauty with a sigh.
"Weary or not, it cannot be set aside or gainsaid or altered," said
Ivan Tsarevich. Then he lay down and slept for nine days and nine
nights. And while he slept there came a rushing whirlwind across the
open steppe, and in the heart of the whirlwind, where was the point of
peace, rested Koschei Who Never Dies, who bore away Peerless Beauty
to his kingdom beyond the sea. And Ivan Tsarevich awoke without any
arousing to find himself alone.
Sadly he gazed across the empty boundless plain, and when he arose,
went back to the town, sought out the old woman in the poor, mean
house, who seemed to be expecting him, and told her all his tale
of sadness.
"I had all things," he said, "and now I have nothing."
"Go to bed and sleep soundly after your sorrow, Ivan," she said, and
he went to bed, but could sleep neither soundly nor restlessly. But
at midnight there came a rushing whirlwind across the open steppe,
and in the heart of the whirlwind, where was the point of peace,
rested Koschei Who Never Dies, who bore away Ivan Tsarevich to his
kingdom beyond the sea.
At the gate of the palace Ivan knocked--tock, tock--and the wicket-gate
in the large gate was opened by Peerless Beauty, who peeped out with
eyes like violets wet with the rain, and cheeks like roses in the
morning sun, and a brow like a seed pearl of priceless lustre. She
opened the little wicket-gate wide, and Ivan stepped in. Then they
went to an upper room, where the bridegroom said to the bride:
"When Koschei comes home, ask him where his death is."
Then Koschei came in at one door and Ivan went out at another door.
"Phu! phu!" said Koschei Who Never Dies, "I smell the blood of a
Russian. Was it Ivan Tsarevich who was with you just now, at this
moment, and recently?"
"Why, Koschei Who Never Dies," said Peerless Beauty clasping her hands,
"Ivan Tsarevich has long ago been devoured by wild beasts of the plain,
at least it must have been so and not otherwise." So they sat down
to supper, and when Koschei had eaten well and drunk better Peerless
Beauty said to him, "Tell me, now, Koschei, where is your death?"
"It is tied up in the broom, silly one," said Koschei; "why do you
wish to know?"
Next morning Koschei Who Never Dies went out at the head of his
men to fight, and as soon as he had gone Ivan Tsarevich came to
Peerless Beauty and kissed her sugar lips. Then she took the broom
from the corner near the stove and gilded it all over with pure beaten
gold. When this was done--and it took a long time to cover each twig
of the birch boughs with the gold--Ivan left his bride and Koschei
Who Never Dies came in by another door.
"Phu! phu!" he said, "I smell the blood of a Russian. Was it Ivan
Tsarevich who was with you just now, at this moment, and recently?"
"Why, Koschei Who Never Dies," said Peerless Beauty clasping her
hands, "you have been flying through Russia and have caught up
the odour of the country on your own garments. Where should I see
Ivan Tsarevich?" Then they sat down to supper, and Koschei saw the
gilded broom lying across the threshold. "What does this mean?" he
asked sternly.
"See how I honour you," said Peerless Beauty, "for I gild even Death
for you."
"Little simpleton, I fooled you," said Koschei. "My death is not in
the broom, but is concealed in the oak fence."
Next day it fell out as before. Peerless Beauty, helped by Ivan
Tsarevich, gilded the fence, and when Koschei saw it burning like
fire in the evening sun, he laughed and said to Peerless Beauty:
"Little simpleton, I fooled you. My death is in an egg, the egg is
in a downy duck, and the duck is in the stump of a tree which floats
upon the open sea."
Next day Peerless Beauty rose very early, before the sun was up, and
went to the stove in the kitchen. "I must send Ivan Tsarevich," she
said, "on the long search for that downy duck. He has a long way to go,
so I must bake him a love cake." So she baked him not one love cake
but three, and as she kneaded the dough, she spoke a love-spell into
it so that Ivan Tsarevich should fare well on his journey. The cakes
were browned and buttered and wrapped in a napkin of fine white linen,
with edges of drawn thread-work, when Ivan came into the kitchen just
as the sun rose. Then he put his arms about the cake-baker, and she
whispered into his ear where to look for the death of Koschei. And
Ivan kissed her honey mouth and went out with the cakes in his pouch.
Onward he went and ever onward, until he came to the margin of the
ocean sea, and then he knew not how to go farther. He had eaten all
the cakes and was very hungry, so very hungry that when a hawk flew
up above his head, he cried: "Hawk, hawk, I will shoot you dead and
eat you without cooking."
"Why eat me?" asked the hawk in the speech of Holy Russia, "I can be
of good service to you."
Then a great bear came shambling along with its fore-paws turned
inwards to show that it was a bear of good breeding. "Bear, bear,"
said Ivan, "I will shoot you dead and eat you without cooking."
"Why eat me?" asked the bear in the speech of Holy Russia, "I can be
of good service to you."
Then Ivan saw a great pike leap from the ocean sea and lie floundering
upon the shingle shore. "Pike, pike," said he, "I will kill you and
eat you without cooking."
"Better, far better, and much the best," said the pike, "if you cast
me into the sea."
"It seems to me," said Ivan Tsarevich, "that the cakes of Peerless
Beauty have wrought a spell, and that I am to have nothing further
to eat. Well, then, in the strength of those cakes I will go on with
it." So he flung the floundering pike back into the ocean sea, and
when it splashed the great water boiled up and began to race along
and up the shore so quickly that Ivan was forced to run before it
with all his might and main.
Onward he ran and ever onward, with the water racing at his heels and
occasionally washing them. [1] Onward he ran and ever upward, until
he came to a tall tree upon a high bank of sand. Upward he climbed
and ever upward, and then saw that now the waters of the ocean sea
were quickly falling; and when they had gone back within their own
boundaries Ivan saw that they had left high up on the shore a huge
stump of a tree.
The bear ran up, raised the stump in its arms, and hugged it until
it cracked--snap, smash--and from the inside of it flew out a downy
duck, which soared high and ever higher, until it looked like a dark
green bottle with a long neck. Then the hawk flew up and caught it,
whereupon an egg fell into the sea, which was caught by the pike,
which swam to the beach and laid it gently at Ivan's feet.
The young man placed the egg in the warm napkin within his pouch
and ran forward, ever forward, until he came to Peerless Beauty,
who was stooping over the stove in the kitchen. Ivan put his arms
about the cake-baker, who grasped his hands and pressed them; and
when she stood upright the egg was in her left palm.
Ivan turned and saw Koschei sitting on the window ledge and scowling at
him, because he expected that the cakes and baked meats that Peerless
Beauty was cooking were all for him. But as the two rushed to the grip,
Peerless Beauty dropped the egg upon the stove. It broke, and as the
shell cracked, Koschei's heart broke also, and he fell down dead.
Then the bride and bridegroom went to the eating room, and Ivan
Tsarevich feasted on cakes and baked meats which Peerless Beauty had
prepared when he was on his journey to the ocean sea; and after that
they went to the country of Ivan's father, who rubbed his eyes when
he saw them and said, "Why, Ivan Tsarevich left home when he was
only nine days old, and now he brings Peerless Beauty to me as my
daughter. Well, I never!"
"Well, we never!" cried the nurse-maidens in a chorus, as they ran
to get ready for the second wedding, which was to be celebrated with
great splendour. "Really, we never did! Whoever would have thought it?"
There is very little doubt that Ivan Tsarevich was the first "nine
days' wonder" that ever was.