you, seek him not. This kingdom itself put out five thousand strong, and
took him unawares. But he escaped by a trick, gave battle to ten
thousand of my picked dragons, fought his retreat to the mountains, and
so escaped triumphant. Man to man--you against Bashtchelik--you cannot
hope to win. If you will go back to your home, I will give you an escort
and three asses laden with gold.'
'Three asses laden with gold!' said the Prince. 'I thank you much, but I
have better than that: I have three lives, which I won from Bashtchelik
himself. I will seek him and reclaim my wife.'
The Dragon King wondered at his words; then, plucking a feather from his
wing, he said, 'You are determined, and I wish you well. Take this
feather, and, if at any time you want my aid, burn it and I will come to
you instantly with ten thousand chosen dragons.'
The Prince thanked him, and placed the feather in his girdle. The next
morning he took leave of his sister and the Dragon King, and set out in
search of Bashtchelik.
He left the city and crossed a desert, where he endured fatigues and
encountered perils; but still, by his strong right arm, he preserved his
three lives. Then, at last, he came to a city; and, as he took the
mainway of it, the same thing happened as before. It was a woman's voice
calling from a castle tower: 'O Prince! Dismount and come in hither!'
Again he made his way into a courtyard, and again he was met by a
woman--his second sister--who greeted him with joy. Soon she led him
into her boudoir, and immediately he asked: 'My sister, who is your
husband?'
'He is the Eagle King,' said she.
Then, as it had happened with the Dragon King, so it happened with the
Eagle King. He came whirring home from a great height, and, by the
artfulness of his wife, he met and embraced the young Prince; for,
though the Eagle King would have pecked out the livers of the elder
brothers, he was glad to meet the youngest. A feast was spread, and,
afterwards, the talk led on to Bashtchelik.
'Bashtchelik!' cried the Eagle King. 'Young man, will you listen to me?
Once we battered him with ten thousand pairs of wings and assailed him
with ten thousand beaks, but he triumphed. For one man to go up against
him is as a thistledown attacking a whirlwind. Do nought. Stay with me:
I will give you all you desire.'
But, as the Prince held fast to his purpose, the Eagle King plucked a
feather from his wing and gave it him.
'If you are in sore straits,' he said, 'burn this feather, and, on the
instant, I will come to your aid with ten thousand eagles.'
Then the Prince, thanking the Eagle King, set forth once more. And, in
his further journeying, he again came to a city, and heard, beneath a
castle wall, a woman's voice calling to him.
It was his youngest sister. She also contrived to bring him face to face
with her husband, the Falcon King, who warned him strongly against
Bashtchelik, and gave him a feather from his wing in case of need.
After a long search and many adventures, the Prince at last found his
wife, standing at the mouth of a large cave. She was much surprised to
see him, and ran forward to embrace him. He then told her all he had
done since their parting, and she clung to him in great joy.
'Now, dear wife,' he said at last; 'now that I have found you, we will
go together to your father's palace.'
'But Bashtchelik!' she exclaimed.
'Bashtchelik is not your husband,' he replied; 'I am your husband.'
'Yes, yes; but if we flee, beloved, Bashtchelik will surely follow us.
His rage would be terrible, and I should lose you for ever, and find a
frightful punishment.'
'Nay, nay; I am your husband, and I will protect you; come!' Then he
added to himself, 'She does not know I have three lives now, and I doubt
whether Bashtchelik could kill me three times.'
So they fled together. But, some hours later, Bashtchelik returned from
hunting and found the Princess had gone. From some footprints outside
the cave he gleaned that she had not gone alone, and instantly guessed
that her husband had carried her off. With a cry of rage he sprang into
the air, and began to fly round the cave at terrific speed, and in
ever-widening circles.
The sun was low down on the Western horizon when the Prince, riding hard
with his wife on the saddle-bow, heard a whirring sound in the sky and
looked up.
'Hasten!' cried the Princess in alarm; 'it is Bashtchelik. If we can
reach the shelter of yonder forest he may not see us.'
But hardly had she spoken when an angry cry from afar fell on their
ears. Bashtchelik had seen them--seen her long, yellow hair floating on
the breeze and gleaming like gold in the rays of the setting sun. He
swerved and swooped downwards, and, madly as they rode for the edge of
the forest, he was upon them by the time they reached the outskirts.
Alighting on the ground, he tore the Princess from the Prince's arms,
and cried out in sorrowful anger, 'O Prince, I gave you three lives out
of gratitude to you, but, if you attempt to steal your wife again, I
will kill you.' And with this he mounted in the air with the Princess,
and soon disappeared in the distance, leaving the Prince lost in wonder
at the suddenness of it all.
Nevertheless he was not to be beaten. He returned to the cave under
cover of night, and, having concealed his steed, crept forward and hid
himself near the cave, to wait until Bashtchelik should go forth to the
hunt.
And he was not disappointed. Soon after the sun rose, Bashtchelik came
out from the cave, bearing his bow and arrows, and went in search of
prey. Then, when he was out of sight, the Prince dashed into the cave,
took his wife and rode away with her. But again ere sunset they heard
the whir of wings; and again Bashtchelik snatched the Princess from the
Prince's arms. And this time he placed an arrow on his bowstring and
drew it to the full.
[Illustration: THE STORY OF BASHTCHELIK
The Palace of the Dragon King.
_See Page 109_]
'O Prince,' he said, 'I give you your choice: will you die by arrow or
sabre?'
'By sabre,' said the Prince, feeling for his own.
'Nay, nay!' returned Bashtchelik, relenting. 'Because I gave you three
lives, I pardon you a second time; but, if you attempt to steal your
wife again, I shall slay you without a thought.'
But the Prince, as he watched Bashtchelik fly away with his wife, was
not daunted. 'I wish he would stay to fight, said he; 'but maybe he will
next time, for I shall certainly take her again.'
And he did. And again they were overtaken. On this occasion it was
nowise different, save that when Bashtchelik forgave the Prince it was
in angry and threatening tones, before bearing the Princess away.
Having failed three times, the Prince rode sadly homewards. But he had
not gone far when he bethought him of the three feathers given him by
his brothers-in-law, and of their promises of help. He reined in his
steed, and turned and galloped back. He would beard Bashtchelik in his
cave, and then give battle, with three armies at his call, if,
perchance, this powerful foe should seem to prevail.
When he reached the cave it was an hour after sunrise. He leapt from his
steed and entered without knocking. There was a fire burning within, and
his wife sat by it with her head on her hand, thinking. She sprang up at
the sound of his footstep.
'You!' she cried. 'Ah! my beloved, you are in unseemly haste to quit
this life, since you come for me a fourth time.'
'Listen to me,' he said; 'for you are my wife, and none shall keep you
from me.' Then he showed her the three feathers, and explained to her
that they were pledges of help in time of need. He placed them in her
hand, and gave her also the burning-glass he used for kindling a fire,
and said: 'Do not burn them until you see the combat is going against
me. He will certainly follow us, but, this time, I think he will fight.'
The Princess seemed to agree to his wish, and, soon afterwards, they set
out and rode rapidly away.
It was high noon when they heard the whir of wings and knew they were
followed. Bashtchelik approached at a great speed, and they saw his
sabre flashing in the sun. The Prince drew rein and dismounted; then,
drawing his weapon, he advanced to meet his foe. But, ere their sabres
clashed, the Princess, fearful for her husband's life, had taken the
burning-glass and pinned the sun's rays to the feathers. A tiny curl of
blue smoke arose, and then they burst into flame.
Instantly--ere yet the heart could beat twice--there was a shrill chord
of three sounds, and as many colours shimmered like lightning in the
air. Then as the feathers blazed, came dragon hosts upon the plain;
flaming eagles flocked in; and the Falcon King with his myriads swooped
down. Bashtchelik was surrounded on three sides, but he dealt a mighty
stroke at the Prince's heart; and then, seeming invincible, fought his
way through with much slaughter and gained the side of the Princess.
Before she knew it she was caught up, and Bashtchelik was bearing her on
rapid wings away.
But the Prince? Among the thick of the slain the three kings--his
brothers-in-law--found him dead! But they took thought together as to
how they might recall him to life, and at last decided to send for some
water from the Jordan. They summoned three of the swiftest dragons and
asked how long it would take to fetch it. 'Half an hour!' said the
first. 'Ten minutes!' said the second; but the third said at once, 'Nine
seconds!'
So they dispatched him; and, like a flash, he winged his fiery flight,
returning in nine seconds with the water from the Jordan. With this they
bathed the Prince's wounds, and they healed up at once; and lo, he rose
up alive and well, but with only two lives left to him.
'Venture not again,' was the counsel of the three kings. 'Go not forth
against Bashtchelik, for he is perfect steel, the mightiest of all; and
none can conquer him: he has all Force behind him.'
But the Prince would not accept their words of warning. 'Force is not
the strongest thing,' he said. 'Force is hard as steel, yet it can be
overcome by the will of Love, which is so soft that it melts at a touch.
In that I go forth again to conquer Bashtchelik, and regain my wife.'
They could not restrain him, but, ere he went, they counselled him
again: 'Since you are willing to risk all, you must go; but think not
that by mighty blows you can conquer Bashtchelik. Get speech with your
wife, and bid her learn from him, by a woman's wit, wherein the secret
of his strength lies. Then come and tell us; and, with that knowledge,
we can help you to slay him.'
The Prince agreed, and parted from them. Making his way very cautiously
to the cave, he waited till Bashtchelik had gone forth to the hunt, and
then entered and found his wife, and bade her glean from Bashtchelik the
secret of his strength. Then he returned to his place of concealment.
That evening, when Bashtchelik returned to the cave, the Princess
praised his great strength and flattered him mightily upon it.
'Tell me, I pray thee,' she said at last, 'wherein thy great strength
lieth, and wherewith thou mightest be bound; for'--with a laugh--'I
would fain bind thee with my hair.'
Bashtchelik laughed, well pleased at her words. 'Wouldst thou know it?'
said he. 'My strength is in my sword; were that taken from me I should
then be weak, and be as another man.'
The Princess then bowed down before his sword and did homage to it, and
sang a great song of joy that all power on earth was in the sword. But,
on hearing this, Bashtchelik laughed, and laughed again, saying,
'Foolish one! my real strength lies no more in my sword than in its
scabbard.'
'Then,' said she, 'thou hast mocked me. Tell me, I pray thee, wherein
thy strength lieth.'
'In my bow and arrows,' replied he. And at once the Princess bowed down
and did homage to his bow and arrows, singing their praise: how swift
their flight through the air, how true their aim, how deadly their
piercing points.
But Bashtchelik laughed again, and again, and again.
'Foolish one!' said he. 'My real strength lies not in my bow, nor in my
arrows. But, tell me, why do you seek to know the secret of my
strength?'
'Because I am a woman; and was there ever a woman who loved a man and
did not want to know his secret?'
'Ay--to know it, and to impart it to others.'
'Nay, nay; to know it is enough. Tell me, I pray thee, and tell me
truly, wherein the secret of thy great strength lieth.'
At this he was much distressed, and, thinking that the Princess believed
her husband dead, he hoped at last to win her love; and so he told her.
'Listen to me,' said he. 'Far away in a high tableland in the interior
of this country there is a mountain reaching up to the sky, and rooted
far down into the earth. In a spot of that mountain--in a den where a
serpent lies asleep--there is a fox, and in its heart there hides a
bird. That bird is the storehouse of my strength. One flutter of its
wings would scatter a whole army; one beat of its heart would shake the
whole world--if the fox so willed it. But the will of the fox is over
mine, and what strength I have comes from the bird through the will of
the fox. And that fox is the hardest thing in the world to catch: it can
take any shape it likes. So, now, you know all.'
'You have told me truly?'
'I do not laugh: I have told you truly.'
Then the Princess dallied with him, giving ear to his tales of terror
and triumph. But, when he had supped and fallen asleep, she stole out
and told the Prince all about it. And he, bidding his wife farewell,
rode off in haste to tell his brothers-in-law. When they heard his news
they called up their forces--the dragons, the eagles, the falcons--and
proceeded forthwith against the mountain on the high tableland.
By certain signs the Prince discovered the den of the sleeping serpent,
and there they surprised the fox, who, seeing the vast array on the
sides of the mountain and on the plain, quickly took refuge in flight.
But a host of eagles and falcons tore after him and overtook him near a
great lake. Here he changed himself into a duck with six wings, and
dived and disappeared. Presently, far away on the lake, they saw him
reappear on the surface, and rise from the water, and wing his way up
into the clouds. Immediately the dragons gave chase, and the eagles and
falcons strove to encircle the swift-winged bird. Finally, seeing no way
of escape, the duck swooped to earth, and changed again into a fox. Then
the pursuers pounced and caught him.
The three kings then consulted together and decided to cut open the fox
and take its heart out. This was soon done; then they built a great fire
and threw the heart into it. And, as it burned, they saw a bird fly from
it through the flames and fall scorched at their feet. Now, as they
gazed upon it, it changed rapidly, growing in size and altering in
shape, until at last there lay before them the body of Bashtchelik, his
wings all burnt and his body charred.
So this monster perished, and the Prince regained his long-lost bride.
THE FRIAR AND THE BOY
AN ENGLISH FAIRY TALE
'You good-for-nothing boy, you! It's always meal-times when you come
home: that's all you care about here. Look at the knees of your
trousers; why, playing marbles in the street with all the other filthy
little brats is about all you're fit for. How d'you think I'm going to
spend all my time patching up your holes and tatters? Drat you! Get out
of it and wipe your boots before you come into a clean kitchen. I've
been all the afternoon tidying up for the good Friar's visit this
evening, and now you----'
'Hang the good Friar!' said Jack under his breath, for he was sick and
tired of his stepmother's sour tongue, and more than sick and tired of
the good Friar, who, he knew, was only 'good' when he was not feeling
well. Taking a fairy-tale book from the shelf he went and sat in the
inglenook, thus sheltering himself from a further storm of abuse from
his stepmother.
The fact of the matter was, that thrice upon a time his father had
married. Jack, a merry-hearted boy, and lovable for all his mischief,
was his son by his first wife. The other two had no children, and the
stepmother now living seemed to resent the fact of Jack's existence. His
father loved him dearly, but, when the father was away, Jack had a sore
time with his sour-tempered stepmother. No wonder he only came home to
meals; no wonder he preferred his fairy-tale book to her venomous
tongue.
When supper-time came, Jack was always summoned to his food well in time
for it to be cleared away before his father came in; and the reason for
this was that his father should not see how he was stinted.
But one day the father got to know about these things, and taxed his
wife on her treatment of the boy.
'Look here, sir,' said she, 'I wish to goodness you would take your
wretched son away and put him in a school for saints, since you think he
is so good. As for me, he plagues my life out, and, if you keep him here
with his ne'er-do-well ways, you'll come home some evening to find me
gone.'
Instead of beating his wife for these words--as some men do when their
wives so beseech them--the goodman put his hand on her shoulder and
said, 'Nay, nay, my dear; the boy is only a boy; let him stay with us
another year until he can fend for himself. Now, I'll tell you what: let
the man who looks after the sheep come in here and do the work about the
house, and Jack will take his place in the field. The man can have
Jack's bed, and Jack will be delighted to sleep in the outhouse. What
say you?'
The wife could not object to this, for, at least, the man would be more
useful and less troublesome about the house than Jack could ever be. So
she agreed to her husband's proposal.
The next day the plan was put into operation.
The man was set to work about the house, and Jack was sent out into the
fields to mind the sheep. As he went he sang merrily, for he loved the
green fields and the animals. He doubted the dinner his stepmother had
put up for him, wrapped in a kitchen clout; yet he sang merrily as he
went in search of the sheep:
_'Green gravel! Green gravel!
Thy grass is so green.
'Tis the fairies' green gravel
With the daisies between.'_
Then, when he had found them:
_'Snowy sheepie-woolsides,
Save your wool for me;
Then in snowy yuletides
Snug and warm I'll be.'_
Then, later, when he began to get hungry, it was:
_'Sheepie, wander, wander
All the fields about;
Grass is growing under,
Clover budding out.
My mother does not squander
Cakes on me, I doubt;
What is here, I wonder,
In this kitchen clout?'_
And, sitting down on a mossy bank, he opened the clout in which his
stepmother had wrapped his dinner. Lo and behold, it was dry bread, with
a very thick layer of dripping scraped off from it back into the pot. He
ate very little, thinking that surely his father would give him
something nicer to eat when he got home.
In the afternoon he sat on the hillside watching the sheep and singing
merrily, when he saw an aged man with a staff making his way towards
him.
'God bless you, son,' said the aged one.
'Good-morrow, father,' replied the boy. 'You are weary. Rest a while on
this mossy bank.'
'Ay, I will,' said the old man, sitting down beside the boy. 'You speak
truly: I am weary, and hungry, and thirsty too. Have you any food? And
would your young legs take you to the stream to bring me back a draught
of water?'
'I have food, such as it is,' replied Jack readily; and he offered him
the dry bread and scrape that his stepmother had given him. 'As for
water, I have a pannikin, and I'll soon fill it at the stream.' And with
that he hurried off to fetch the water.
When he returned, and the old man had eaten and drank, he thanked the
boy. 'God love you, child,' he said; 'you have been kind to me. And now,
in return, I am minded to grant you three wishes of your heart. Think
well, and then name them; and it shall be as I say.'
Jack thought and thought; but all he could decide on to begin with was a
bow and arrow. So he asked for that.
'Certainly!' said the old man; and, rising, he went behind the bank, and
presently returned with the bow and arrow, which he gave to the boy.
'This will last you all your life,' he said; 'and it will never break.
All you have to do is to draw it with the arrow on the string, and
whatever you aim at will fall, pierced by the arrow.'
Jack was delighted, and, in order to test it, he fixed an arrow and let
it fly at a hawk passing overhead. The arrow sped and pierced the body
of the hawk, which came down plump at their feet.
At this Jack considered his second wish, for he said to himself, 'An old
man who can give me a bow and arrow that can never miss, can give me
almost anything.' Then he made up his mind and asked for a pipe on which
to play tunes.
'I have always wanted a pipe,' he said; 'I would like one so much, no
matter how small it is.'
Then the old man got up and went behind the bank, and came back
presently with a beautiful pipe, which he gave to the boy.
'It is a strange pipe,' he said. 'When you play upon it any one besides
yourself who hears the music must dance, and keep on dancing till the
music stops.'
Jack thought this was fine, and would have played a tune there and then,
but he looked at the aged man and saw that it would hurt him to dance;
so he waited: there was always the 'good Friar' to pipe to.
'Now, child,' said the old man at last, 'what is your third and last
wish?'
Jack pondered a long time, and at last he chuckled and clapped his hands
with glee. When the old man asked him what tickled him so, he could not
reply at once, as he was so busy enjoying some joke beforehand. At last,
when he was able to speak, he said, 'Father, it has just crossed my mind
that my stepmother is always looking at me sourly and always scolding
me. I wish that when she does this she will laugh, and go on laughing
till I give her the word to stop. Can you grant that wish, father?'
'I can,' said the old man; 'and it will be so. When she looks at you
sourly or speaks to you crossly, she will laugh until she falls to the
ground, and then go on laughing until you tell her to stop.'
When Jack had thanked him, the old man said good-bye and tottered away,
leaning heavily on his staff. Meanwhile Jack sat and nursed his three
wishes, feeling as gay-hearted about his good luck as a lambkin with
three tails.
When the sun set at last and his day's work was done, he rose and
trudged homewards in great glee. As he went he played his pipe, and all
the sheep and cattle and horses and dogs danced, till he left off for
laughing at the sight of them kicking up their heels. Even the birds and
the bees waltzed in the air, and, as he crossed a bridge, he saw the
little fishes pirouetting in the stream below.
As soon as he reached home he put the pipe away, and, going into the
house, found his father at supper.
'Father,' said he, 'I am terribly hungry after looking to the sheep all
day; and, besides, my dinner was very dry.'
'Here you are, my son,' replied his father; and, cutting a wing from the
roast capon on the table before him, he set it on a plate and pushed it
over to the boy.
At this the stepmother, grudging to see such a nice portion given to the
boy, turned upon him with a look that would have made a cow give sour
milk. Then, on the instant, she burst out laughing. Her husband stared
at her in amazement, but still she laughed, her sides shaking with her
shrill peals; and louder and louder she laughed, until the rafters shook
and she fell to the ground, still laughing as if she would die of it.
At last Jack, with his capon's wing in both hands before him, stopped
eating to cry, 'Enough, I say!' And immediately the stepmother ceased
her laughter and struggled to her feet, looking more dead than alive.
Now, the next day, when Jack was minding the sheep, the good Friar
called at the house, and the stepmother told him what a naughty boy Jack
was, and how he had made her laugh till she had nearly died, and then
mocked her.
'Go you, now,' she said; 'go and find him in the fields and give him a
sound beating for my sake. It will do him good--and me too.'
So the Friar went out into the fields and at last found the boy, with
his bow and arrow in his hands.
'Young man,' said the Friar, 'tell me at once what you have done to your
stepmother that she is so angered with you. Tell me at once, I say, or I
will give you a sound beating.'
'What's the matter with you?' replied Jack. 'If my stepmother wants me
beaten, let her do it herself. See that bird?' He pointed to a very
plump bird flying overhead. 'If you fetch it when it drops, you can have
it.'
With this he let fly an arrow and pierced the bird, which fell to earth
a little way off in a bramble patch. As the Friar darted forward to get
it--for it was indeed a plump bird--Jack drew forth his pipe and began
to play.