Once upon a time, in a certain kingdom, in a city of yore, there was a
King who had a dwarf son. The Tsarévich was fair to behold, and fair of
heart. But his father was not good: he was always tortured with greedy
thoughts, how he should derive greater profit from his country and
extract heavier taxes.
One day he saw an old peasant passing by with sable, marten, beaver, and
fox-skins; and he asked him: “Old man! whence do you come?”
“Out of the village, Father. I serve the Woodsprite with the iron hands,
the cast-iron head, and the body of bronze.”
“How do you catch so many animals?”
“The Woodsprite lays traps, and the animals are stupid and go into
them.”
“Listen, old man; I will give you gold and wine. Show me where you put
the traps.”
So the old man was persuaded, and he showed the King, who instantly had
the Woodsprite arrested and confined in a narrow tower. And in all the
Woodsprite’s forests the King himself laid traps.
The Woodsprite-forester sat in his iron tower inside the royal garden,
and looked out through the window. One day, the Tsarévich, with his
nurses and attendants and very many faithful servant-maids, went into
the garden to play. He passed the door, and the Woodsprite cried out to
him: “Tsarévich, if you will set me free, I will later on help you.”
“How shall I do this?”
“Go to your mother and weep bitterly. Tell her: ‘Please, dear Mother,
scratch my head.’ Lay your head on her lap. Wait for the proper instant,
take the key of my tower out of her pocket, and set me free.”
Iván Tsarévich did what the Woodsprite had told him, took the key; then
he ran into the garden, made an arrow, put the arrow on a catapult, and
shot it far away. And all the nurses and serving-maids ran off to find
the arrow. Whilst they were all running after the arrow Iván Tsarévich
opened the iron tower and freed the Woodsprite. The Woodsprite escaped
and destroyed all the King’s traps.
Now the King could not catch any more animals, and became angry, and
attacked his wife for giving the key away and setting the Woodsprite
free. He assembled all the _boyárs_, generals, and senators to pronounce
the Queen’s doom, whether she should have her head cut off, or should be
merely banished. So the Tsarévich was greatly grieved; he was sorry for
his mother, and he acknowledged his guilt to his father.
Then the King was very sorry, and didn’t know what to do to his son. He
asked all the _boyárs_ and generals, and said: “Is he to be hanged or to
be put into a fortress?”
“No, your Majesty!” the _boyárs_, and generals, and senators answered in
one voice. “The scions of kings are not slain, and are not put in
prison; they are sent out into the white world to meet whatever fate God
may send them.”
So Iván Tsarévich was sent out into the white world, to wander in the
four directions, to suffer the midday winds and the stress of the winter
and the blasts of the autumn; and was given only a birch-bark wallet and
Dyád’ka, his servant.
So the King’s son set out with his servant into the open fields. They
went far and wide over hill and dale. Their way may have been long, and
it may have been short; and they at last reached a well. Then the
Tsarévich said to his servant, “Go and fetch me water.”
“I will not go!” said the servant.
So they went further on, and they once more came to a well.
“Go and fetch me water—I feel thirsty,” the Tsarévich asked him a second
time.
“I will not go.”
Then they went on until they came to a third well. And the servant again
would not fetch any water. And the Tsarévich had to do it himself. When
the Tsarévich had gone down into the well the servant shut down the lid,
and said: “You be my servant, and I will be the Tsarévich; or I will
never let you come out!”
The Tsarévich could not help himself, and was forced to give way; and
signed the bond to his servant in his own blood. Then they changed
clothes and rode on, and came to another land, where they went to the
Tsar’s court, the servant-man first, and the King’s son after.
The servant-man sat as a guest with the Tsar, ate and drank at his
table. One day he said: “Mighty Tsar, send my servant into the kitchen!”
So they took the Tsarévich as scullion, let him draw water and hew wood.
But very soon the Tsarévich was a far finer cook than all the royal
chefs. Then the Tsar noticed and began to like his young scullion, and
gave him gold. So all the cooks became envious and sought some
opportunity of getting rid of the Tsarévich. One day he made a cake and
put it into the oven, so the cooks put poison in and spread it over the
cake. And the Tsar sat at table, and the cake was taken up. When the
Tsar was going to take it, the cook came running up, and cried out:
“Your Majesty, do not eat it!” And he told all imaginable lies of Iván
Tsarévich. Then the King summoned his favourite hound and gave him a bit
of the cake. The dog ate it and died on the spot.
So the Tsar summoned the Prince and cried out to him in a thundering
voice: “How dared you bake me a poisoned cake! You shall be instantly
tortured to death!”
“I know nothing about it; I had no idea of it, your Majesty!” the
Tsarévich answered. “The other cooks were jealous of your rewarding me,
and so they have deliberately contrived the plot.”
Then the Tsar pardoned him, and he made him a horseherd.
One day, as the Tsarévich was taking his drove to drink, he met the
Woodsprite with the iron hands, the cast-iron head, and the body of
bronze. “Good-day, Tsarévich; come with me, visit me.”
“I am frightened that the horses will run away.”
“Fear nothing. Only come.”
His hut was quite near. The Woodsprite had three daughters, and he asked
the eldest: “What will you give Iván Tsarévich for saving me out of the
iron tower?”
“I will give him this table-cloth.”
With the table-cloth Iván Tsarévich went back to his horses, which were
all gathered together, turned it round and asked for any food that he
liked, and he was served, and meat and drink appeared at once.
Next day he was again driving his horses to the river, and the
Woodsprite appeared once more. “Come into my hut!”
So he went with him. And the Woodsprite asked his second daughter, “What
will you give Iván Tsarévich for saving me out of the iron tower?”
“I will give him this mirror, in which he can see all he will.”
And on the third day the third daughter gave him a pipe, which he need
only put to his lips, and music, and singers, and musicians would appear
before him.
And it was a merry life that Iván Tsarévich now led. He had good food
and good meat, knew whatever was going on, saw everything, and he had
music all day long: no man was better. And the horses! They—it was
really wonderful—were always well fed, well set-up, and shapely.
Now, the fair Tsarévna had been noticing the horseherd for a long time,
for a very long time, for how could so fair a maiden overlook the
beautiful boy? She wanted to know why the horses he kept were always so
much shapelier and statelier than those which the other herds looked
after. “I will one day go into his room,” she said, “and see where the
poor devil lives.” As every one knows, a woman’s wish is soon her deed.
So one day she went into his room, when Iván Tsarévich was giving his
horses drink. And there she saw the mirror, and looking into that she
knew everything. She took the magical cloth, the mirror, and the pipe.
Just about then there was a great disaster threatening the Tsar. The
seven-headed monster, Ídolishche, was invading his land and demanding
his daughter as his wife. “If you will not give her to me willy, I will
take her nilly!” he said. And he got ready all his immense army, and the
Tsar fared ill. And he issued a decree throughout his land, summoned the
_boyárs_ and knights together, and promised any who would slay the
seven-headed monster half of his wealth and half his realm, and also his
daughter as his wife.
Then all the princes and knights and the _boyárs_ assembled together to
fight the monster, and amongst them Dyád’ka. The horseherd sat on a pony
and rode behind.
Then the Woodsprite came and met him, and said: “Where are you going,
Iván Tsarévich?”
“To the war.”
“On this sorry nag you will not do much, and still less if you go in
your present guise. Just come and visit me.”
He took him into his hut and gave him a glass of _vódka_. Then the
King’s son drank it. “Do you feel strong?” asked the Woodsprite.
“If there were a log there fifty _puds_, I could throw it up and allow
it to fall on my head without feeling the blow.”
So he was given a second glass of _vódka_.
“How strong do you feel now?”
“If there were a log here one hundred _puds_, I could throw it higher
than the clouds on high.”
Then he was given a third glass of _vódka_.
“How strong are you now?”
“If there were a column stretching from heaven to earth, I should turn
the entire universe round.”
So the Woodsprite took _vódka_ out of another bottle and gave the King’s
son yet more drink, and his strength was increased sevenfold. They went
in front of the house; and he whistled loud, and a black horse rose out
of the earth, and the earth trembled under its hoofs. Out of its
nostrils it breathed flames, columns of smoke rose from its ears, and as
its hoofs struck the ground sparks arose. It ran up to the hut and fell
on its knees.
“There is a horse!” said the Woodsprite. And he gave Iván Tsarévich a
sword and a silken whip.
So Iván Tsarévich rode out on his black steed against the enemy. On the
way he met his servant, who had climbed a birch-tree and was trembling
for fear. Iván Tsarévich gave him a couple of blows with his whip, and
started out against the hostile host. He slew many people with the
sword, and yet more did his horse trample down. And he cut off the seven
heads of the monster.
Now Marfa Tsarévna was seeing all this, because she kept looking in the
glass, and so learned all that was going on. After the battle she rode
out to meet Iván Tsarévich, and asked him: “How can I thank you?”
“Give me a kiss, fair maiden!”
The Tsarévna was not ashamed, pressed him to her very heart, and kissed
him so loud that the entire host heard it!
Then the King’s son struck his horse one blow and vanished. Then he
returned to his room, and sat there as though nothing had happened,
whilst his servant boasted that he had gone to the battle and slain the
foe. So the Tsar awarded him great honours, promised him his daughter,
and set a great feast. But the Tsarévna was not so stupid, and said she
had a severe headache.
What was the future son-in-law to do? “Father,” he said to the Tsar,
“give me a ship, I will go and get drugs for my bride; and see that your
herdsman comes with me, as I am so well accustomed to him.”
The Tsar consented; gave him the ship and the herdsman.
So they sailed away, may be far or near. Then the servant had a sack
sewn, and the Prince put into it, and cast him into the water. But the
Tsarévna saw the evil thing that had been done, through her magic
mirror; and she quickly summoned her carriage and drove to the sea, and
on the shore there the Woodsprite sat weaving a great net.
“Woodsprite, help me on my way, for Dyád’ka the servant has drowned the
King’s son!”
“Here, maiden, look, the net is ready. Help me with your white hands.”
Then the Tsarévna threw the net into the deep; fished the King’s son up,
took him home, and told her father the whole story.
So they celebrated a merry wedding and held a great feast. In a Tsar’s
palace mead has not to be brewed or any wine to be drawn; there is
always enough ready.
Then the servant in the meantime was buying all sorts of drugs, and came
back. He came to the palace, was seized, but prayed for mercy. But he
was too late, and he was shot in front of the castle gate.
The wedding of the King’s son was very jolly, and all the inns and all
the beer-houses were opened for an entire week, for everybody, without
any charge.
I was there. I drank honey and mead, which came up to my moustache, but
never entered my mouth.