Once an Ox was wandering in the wood, and a Ram met him. “Where are you
going, Ram?” asked the Ox.
“I am seeking summer in winter,” answered the Ram.
“Come with me.”
So they went together. And they met a Pig.
“Where are you going, Pig?” asked the Ox.
“I am seeking summer in winter.”
“Come with us.”
So they all went together. And they then met a Goose.
“Where are you going, Goose?” said the Bull.
“I am seeking summer in winter,” said the Goose.
“Well, come with us.”
So the Goose came with them. So they went on, and they met a Cock.
“Where are you going, Cock?” asked the Bull.
“I am seeking summer in winter.”
“Then come with us,” said the Bull again.
So they went on their road and way, and began speaking amongst each
other. “What shall we do, brothers and comrades? the cold time is
approaching: how shall we have warmth?”
So the Ox said, “We will build an _izbá_,[42] and we shall not freeze
during the winter.”
Then the Ram said: “My _shúba_ is very warm; I will pass the winter in
this fashion.”
Then the Pig said, “I do not mind any frost whatsoever: I will burrow
into the ground and do without any _izbá_.”[43]
Then the Goose said, “I will sit in the middle of this spruce, lie on
one wing, and cover myself over with the other, and the cold cannot
touch me. That is how I shall pass the winter.”
Then the Cock said, “I shall do the same.”
Then the Ox saw he could not do any good: every man must do as he likes.
“Well,” he said, “as you wish. _I_ am going to build an _izbá_.”[43]
So he built himself an _izbá_,[43] and he lived in it.
Then the cold time came, and earth began to feel the frosts. And the
Ram, who could not help himself, came to the Bull and said, “Brother,
let me in.”
“No, Ram, you have a warm _shúba_; that is how you are going to pass the
winter! I shall not let you in.”
“But if you do not let me in, I shall run up and will dislodge the
joists of the _izbá_,[43] and you will feel much colder.”
So the Bull thought, and on second thoughts said, “Very well, I will let
you in. Otherwise I might freeze.” And he let the Ram in.
Soon the Pig felt frozen, and came to the Bull and said, “Brother, let
me in.”
“No, Pig, I will not let you in. You need only burrow down in the
ground: that is how you are going to pass the winter!”
“But if you will not let me in, with my snout I will drill all of your
uprights and will knock your _izbá_[43] down.”
Well, there was no help for it, and the Bull had to let Piggy in.
Then the Goose and the Cock came to the Bull and said, “Brother, we want
to come in and warm ourselves.”
“No, I will not let you in: both of you have two wings. One of them you
put under you, and the other you put over you: that is how you pass the
winter.”
“But if you do not let us in,” said the Goose, “I will pluck away all
the moss from the walls, and you will be much colder!”
“What! won’t you let me in?” said the Cock. “I will fly on to the garret
and I will scatter all the earth from the roof, and you will be much
colder.”
Well, the Bull was beaten, and he was forced to admit the Goose and the
Cock. In the warm hut the Cock crowed and began singing merry songs.
Now the Fox heard the Cock singing merry songs, and thought he would
like to make such a dainty acquaintance, only he did not know how to.
So the Fox bethought himself of his wiles, and ran up to the Bear and
the Wolf and said, “Now, my dear kinsmen, I have found food for all of
us: a Bull for you, Mr. Bear, a Ram for you, Mr. Wolf, and a Cock for
myself.”
“What a capital fellow you are, Mr. Fox!” said the Bear and the Wolf.
“We shall never be oblivious of your services: let us kill and eat
them.”
So the Fox led them up to the little _izbá_.[44] When they reached the
hut, the Bear said to the Wolf: “You go first.”
But the Wolf said, “That would be altogether wrong—you must go first.”
So then the Bear and the Wolf said to the Fox, “You must go first.”
As the Fox went in, the Bull gored him with his horns to the wall, and
the Ram sat on his flanks, and the Pig tore him to atoms, whilst the
Goose flew on to him and picked out his eyes. But the Cock went and flew
up to the girder and crowed, “Do come in, oh do, do, do!”
“Why is the Fox such a long time at work with the Cock?” said the Wolf:
“Unlock the door, Mikháylo Ivánovich,[45] and I will come in.”
“Very well, come in!” So the Bull opened the door and the Wolf leapt
into the _izbá_.[46]
As the Wolf went in the Bull gored him to the wall with his horns, the
Ram sat on his sides and the Pig tore him to atoms, while the Goose flew
on to him and picked out his eyes. The Cock flew up to the girders and
began shouting, “Come along here, come along here!”
But the Bear got tired of waiting so long: “What a long job he is making
of that Ram!” he thought. “I must go in.” So he also went into the hut,
and the Bull gave him the same royal welcome.
He burst out by sheer force and galloped away at full speed, and never
once looked round.
THE STORY OF THE BRAVE AND DOUGHTY KNIGHT ILYÁ MÚROMETS AND THE
NIGHTINGALE ROBBER
Once in the famous city of Múrom[47] in the village of Karachárovo, a
peasant lived who was called Iván Timoféyevich; he had one beloved son,
Ilyá Múromets. And he sat down in a house as a stay-at-home for thirty
years, and after the thirty years had gone by he began to walk on his
feet mightily, and he gained great strength. Then he made himself the
trappings of war and a lance of steel, and got himself a good steed, a
knightly horse; he then went up to his mother and father and asked their
blessing. “Ye, my masters, my mother and father, let me go into the
famous city of Kíev, to pray to God and to do homage to our prince at
Kíev.”
The mother and father gave him their blessing, and made him swear a
mighty oath, and they enjoined a mighty service upon him. And they spake
in this wise: “Do you go straight to the city of Kíev, straight to the
city of Chernígov, and on your journeying do no one any hurt, spill no
Christian blood vainly.”
Ilyá Múromets took the blessing of his father and mother, prayed to God,
bade farewell to his father and mother, and set forth on his way and
road. And he journeyed far in the dark woods, and lighted on a camp of
robbers. Those robbers saw Ilyá Múromets, and were envious in their
robber-like hearts for his knightly horse, and began to speak amongst
themselves how they might take that horse; for steeds so fine were not
seen in those parts, and now some unknown man was passing by on one. So
they set on Ilyá Múromets, ten at once and then by twenties. And Ilyá
Múromets stopped his knightly horse, took a tempered dart and set it on
his strong bow. He let the tempered dart fall on the earth, and it tore
into the earth fifty feet.
And seeing this, the robbers were afraid, and collected in a circle,
fell on their knees and prayed him, “Master, our father, youth mighty of
prowess, we are guilty in thine eyes; and, for this our guilt, as it
pleaseth thee, inflict on us a fine as much as is fit, whether it be
coloured clothes or droves of horses.”
Ilyá smiled at them and said: “I need no garments, but, if ye wish to
enjoy your life, henceforth take no more hazards.”
And he went on his road to the famous city of Kíev. And Ilyá Múromets
set out on the road; when he came under the walls of the city of Sébezh
he saw three Tsarévichi from foreign parts, who had a host of thirty
thousand men; they wished to capture the city of Sébezh and to take the
Tsar of Sébezh prisoner. So Ilyá Múromets set out after the three
Tsarévichi, and he pursued them down to the seashore and slew all the
rest of the army, but captured the Tsarévichi alive and returned to the
city of Sébezh, and the citizens saw him and gave news of this to their
Tsar.
When he arrived at the city of Chernígov, under the walls of the city of
Chernígov there was a Saracen host too many to count besieging the city
of Chernígov: they were going to sack it and to set God’s churches
aflame, and to take captive the Prince, the Duke of Chernígov. And at
that mighty host and fray, Ilyá Múromets was afraid, but he placed
himself at the will of the Saviour, and thought how he would sacrifice
his head for the Christian faith. Then Ilyá Múromets began to lay low
the Saracen host with his lance of steel, and he routed all of the pagan
host and took the Tsarévich of the Saracens captive and led him into the
city of Chernígov. As he entered, all the citizens of the city of
Chernígov met him and gave him honour, and the Prince and Duke of
Chernígov himself came out to receive the doughty youth with honour and
to give thanks to the Lord God for sending such unexpected succour to
the city and not letting them all perish helplessly before the mighty
Saracen host. They received him into their palace and they gave him a
great feast, and set him on his way.
Ilyá Múromets went to the city of Kíev straight from Chernígov on the
road by the village of Kutúzovo, which the Nightingale Robber had been
oppressing for thirty years, not letting any man pass, whether on
horseback or on foot, and assailing them not with any weapon, but only
with his robber’s whistle. Ilyá Múromets rode into the open field and
saw the scattered bones of knights and warriors. He rode over them and
arrived at the Bryánski woods,[48] the miry swamp, to the hazel-tree
bridges, and to the Smoródina river. The Nightingale Robber heard his
end approaching, and felt a foreboding of a terrible ill; and before
Ilyá Múromets had advanced twenty versts, he whistled with his powerful
robber’s whistle. But the valorous heart of Ilyá was not afraid, and
before ever he had advanced ten versts more the Nightingale Robber
whistled more terribly than before, and the horse of Ilyá Múromets
stumbled at the sound.
At last Ilyá arrived at the nest, which was spread above twelve oaks,
and the Nightingale Robber was sitting in the nest, saw the white
Russian knight approaching, and began to whistle with all of his might,
essaying to smite Ilyá Múromets to death. Ilyá Múromets took out his
strong bow, put a tempered dart to it, and shot it at the nest of the
Nightingale Robber; it fell into his right eye and went beyond. And the
Robber-Nightingale fell down from his nest like a sheaf of oats. Ilyá
Múromets took the Robber-Nightingale, tied him strongly to his steel
stirrup and rode to the famous city of Kíev.
On his way he passed the palace of the Nightingale Robber, and as soon
as he came up to the Robber’s palace the windows were opened and out of
these windows the Nightingale Robber’s three daughters were looking. The
youngest daughter saw him, and cried out to her sisters: “Here is our
father coming back with booty: he is bringing us a man tied to his steel
stirrup.”
But the elder sister looked out and cried bitterly: “That is not our
father; some unknown man is coming along and is dragging our father
after him.”
Then they cried out to their husbands, “Masters, do ye go and meet that
man and slay him for the slaying of our father, lest our name be
disgraced.”
Then their husbands, mighty warriors, set out to face the white Russian
knight. They had good horses, sharp lances, and they wished to hoist
Ilyá aloft on their lances.
The Nightingale Robber saw them, and said, “My beloved sons, do not
dishonour nor take such a bold knight, and so all receive your death
from him; it would be better to ask his forgiveness in humbleness and to
ask him into my house to have a goblet of green wine.”
So at the invitation of the sons-in-law Ilyá returned home and received
no evil of them.
The eldest daughter raised an iron storm-board of chains for him to
stumble against; but Ilyá saw her on the gates, struck at her with his
lance, and he smote her to death.
When Ilyá arrived at the city of Kíev, he went straight to the Prince’s
courtyard, entered the white stone palace, prayed to God and did homage
to the Prince.
The Prince of Kíev asked him, “Say, doughty youth, how do they call
thee? Of what city art thou?”
And Ilyá Múromets returned answer: “My lord, they call me Ílyushka, and
by my father’s name Ivánov; I live in the city of Múrom in the village
of Karachárovo.”
Then the Prince asked him, “By what road didst thou come?”
“From Múrom by the city of Chernígov, and under the walls of Chernígov I
routed a Saracen host too many to count, and I relieved the city of
Chernígov. And from there I went straight and I took the mighty
Nightingale Robber alive and dragged him along at my steel stirrup.”
Then the Prince was angry and said, “Why art thou telling such tales?”
When the knights Alyósha Popóvich and Dobrýnya Nikítich heard this, they
dashed out to look, and assured the Prince that this was really so.
Then the Prince bade a goblet of green wine be given to the doughty
youth. The Prince, however, wished to hear the whistle of the
Robber-Nightingale. Ilyá Múromets put the Prince and Princess into a
sable _shúba_, seized them under the arm, called in the Nightingale
Robber and bade him whistle like a nightingale with only half his
whistle; but the Nightingale Robber whistled with all his robber’s
whistle, and he deafened all of the knights, so that they fell to the
ground, and as a punishment for this was slain by Ilyá Múromets.
Ilyá Múromets swore blood brotherhood with Dobrýnya Nikítich, then they
saddled their good horses and rode forth on the open fields; and they
journeyed on for about three months and found no opponent worthy of
their steel: they had only gone in the open field. Then they met a
passer-by, a beggar singing psalms. His shirt weighed fifteen _pud_, and
his hat ten _pud_, and his stick was ten _sazhéns_ long. Ilyá Múromets
set on him with his horse, and was going to try his mighty strength on
him.
Then the passing beggar saw Ilyá Múromets and said: “Hail, Ilyá
Múromets! Do you recollect? I learned my letters with you in the same
school, and now you are setting your horse on me, who am only a beggar,
as though I were an enemy, and you do not know that a very great
misfortune has befallen the city of Kíev. The infidel knight, the mighty
man, the dishonourable Ídolishche, has arrived. His head is as big as a
beer cauldron, and his shoulders a _sazhén_ broad. There is a span
length between his brows, and between his ears there is a tempered dart.
And he eats an ox at a time and he drinks a cask at a time. The Prince
of Kíev is very aggrieved with you that you have left him in such
straits.”
So Ilyá Múromets changed into the beggar’s dress and rode straight back
to the palace of the Prince, and cried out in a knightly voice: “Hail to
thee, Prince of Kíev! give me, a wandering beggar, alms.”
And the Prince saw him and spoke in this wise: “Come into my palace,
beggar. I will give you food and drink and will give you gold on your
way.”
So the beggar went into the palace and stood at the stove and looked
round.
Ídolishche asked to eat, so they brought him an entire roasted ox and he
ate it to the bones; then Ídolishche asked for drink, so they brought
him a cauldron of beer; and twenty men had to bring it in. And he held
it up to his ears and drank it all through.
Ilyá Múromets said, “My father had a gluttonous mare; it guzzled until
its breath failed.”
Ídolishche could not stand this affront, and said, “Hail, wandering
beggar! Do you dare me? I could take you in my hands; if it had been
Ilyá Múromets I would even have braved him.”
“Well,” said Ilyá Múromets, “that is the kind of man he was!” And he
took off his cap and struck him lightly on the head, and he nearly
knocked through the walls of the palace, took Ídolishche’s trunk and
flung it out. And in return the Prince honoured Ilyá Múromets, praised
him highly, and placed him amongst the mighty knights of his court.