The Russian Story Book 8

The Russian Story Book 8

THE ADVENTURE OF THE BURNING WHITE STONE

 

 

Ilya of Murom rode Cloudfall across the open steppe. For nigh three

hundred years he had ridden, and he wondered at the youthfulness of

his heart which constant danger had kept fresh and young. "Ah, old

age, old age! Thou hast chased and overtaken even Cloudfall in the

open steppe, and like a bleached raven hast alighted on my head--but

not on my arm." Then with a youthful gesture he flung out his sword

arm, tightened the girth of Cloudfall and gave the rein to the shaggy

bay steed.

 

Away went Cloudfall like the wind, and Ilya as he sat upon him was

like the falcon clear. There was no need of bridge or ferryman for

this heroic traveller, for good Cloudfall leapt over shining lake

and rushing river, quivering bog and reedy swamp. And as they rode

they came to a place where three roads met, and there stood a burning

white stone on which was inscribed: "He who rides to the right shall

gain great wealth; he who rides to the left shall gain a wife; he who

rides straight forward shall gain his death." Then Ilya of Murom the

Old Cossáck halted and stood still with his head bowed in an attitude

of the deepest thought.

 

"I am an old man," he said to himself, "and have all the wealth I need,

for it wearies me to count it. Why should an old man wish for a wife? I

will take the straight road though Death should sit athwart it." Then

he added, lifting his head with the light of unquenched youth still

in his eyes, "It may be that Death and I shall come to grips in one

more great adventure."

 

Then the youthful Old Cossáck rode onward for leagues and leagues

until at last he entered a gloomy forest into which he advanced for

some distance, and then met a band of forty thousand robbers who cast

eighty thousand envious eyes (save one, for the chief had lost an eye

in a battle) upon the goodly proportions and intelligent appearance

of Cloudfall the shaggy bay steed. "In all our lives," they said one

to another, "we have never seen such a horse. Halt then, good youth,

halt, thou hero of Holy Russia!" And they would have forced him to

halt but Ilya said:

 

"Ho, ye robber horde! Why kill an old man and rob him? I have no

money in my wallet save five hundred roubles. The cross of gold upon

my breast is worth only five hundred--to any one of your company--my

cloak of sables about three thousand, my cap and my sandals about five

hundred each, my bridle, set with precious stones, about a thousand. My

saddle, bordered with eagle feathers,--I hunted that eagle over the

blue sea on the way to the palace of grey stone--is priceless and

therefore of no value to any of your company. Between the ears of

Cloudfall and under his eyes are clear stones of purest jacinth,

but he wears these, not for youthful vanity, but because they help

him to see for thirty miles on all sides as he bounds across the open

steppe. As for my faithful shaggy bay steed Cloudfall, he is worth

nothing at all, except to me. Here then is my inventory. Value me I

pray you for yourselves."

 

The robber leaders jeered as they replied, "Thou art old and talkative,

Cossáck. Since we took to roaming across the white world, we have

never met with such a fool. Why, thou art so foolish that thou hast

told us all the clear truth. Seize the old man, my brothers."

 

But as the robbers advanced upon him, Ilya of Murom drew a fiery dart

from his quiver, and fixing it to his terrible bow shot at a tree to

his right hand which was the grandmother of all the oaks. The mighty

trunk was shivered into fragments, and the earth was ploughed up

round about by the force of that tremendous blow, at the sound of

which all the robbers fell flat upon the earth, where they lay for

the space of five hours before they recovered themselves. And when

they arose again to an erect posture the leader said:

 

"Good youth, noble hero of Holy Russia! Enter thou into comradeship

with us. Take from our goodly store whatever pleases you of golden

treasure, embroidered cloth, horses and cattle." But Ilya laughed the

jolly laugh of the adventurer to whom goods and gear, however rich,

are a trouble and a burden. "Ah, brothers, my brave foes," he said,

"I have no wish to be troubled with guarding treasure, feeding horses,

and tending cows and sheep. I must ride and ride ever onward across

the open steppe and leave the guarding of treasure to shop-keepers

and merchants who live in towns behind bolts and bars."

 

Then Ilya of Murom turned Cloudfall in his tracks, and came again

to the burning white stone, from which he erased the inscription and

wrote in its place:

 

 

I, Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck, have ridden straight forward

and have not gained my death.

 

 

Once more the aged hero with the heart of youth rode out into the open

steppe, turning this time to the left. He rode onward for three hundred

miles and then came to a smooth meadow as green as an emerald stone,

and upon this meadow stood a wonder of wonders. It was too small

to be called a city and too large to be called a village. It was,

in truth, a beautiful palace of white stone with roofs of shining

gold and strange three-cornered towers.

 

Ilya drew rein before the golden gateway, whereupon there came forth

upon the green sward forty beautiful maidens, who walked proudly

behind Princess Zenira the All Fair. Ilya dismounted and bowed low,

whereupon the beautiful Princess took him by his white hands, kissed

him on the lips, and invited him to a feast in the banquet-hall of the

palace of white stone. "I have travelled far in Holy Russia," said Ilya

of Murom, "but I have never seen such a fair palace or such beautiful

ladies." The maidens bowed their heads, like ears of corn before a

gentle breeze, and the Princess led the hero within the palace.

 

When they came to the banquet-hall, Ilya bowed to North, South,

East, and West, and especially to the Princess Zenira, who placed

him at the table of fair white oak in the big corner and brought him

food of the best with sweet mead to drink. "Do not eat or drink of

these things until you are satisfied, good youth," she said gently,

"for there is more to come." But Ilya looked at her as she spoke,

and looked at her again, and for a third time he scanned her face

and found it beautiful with the beauty of the newly-fallen snow

on the wide steppe when the moon rises; that was the beauty of the

Princess Zenira. Then Ilya's eyes fell once more upon the fair white

oak of the table and he said, speaking as one who knows his meaning,

"I have ridden for three hundred miles and my hunger and thirst are

as heroic as my steed." So he ate and drank his fill.

 

Then as his head seemed to droop upon his breast, though in reality

he was more wide awake than ever, the Princess Zenira led him to a

rich warm chamber at one side of which stood a broad bed of yew wood

and ivory with pillows of the softest down.

 

"Here you will rest as on the lap of your mother," said the fair

Princess, "but I advise you to lie near to the brick wall which is

warm from the stove beneath." "Nay," said the hero, "I will lie upon

the outer edge for I often rise in the night to see for myself that

Cloudfall is well stabled." Then without more ado, he seized the fair

Princess Zenira by the middle and flung her upon the bed of yew wood

against the wall.

 

And behold the bed of yew with pillows of softest down was false, for

it turned on a pivot when the weight was cast upon the side nearer

to the brick wall, and the fair Princess was hurled down into her

dungeon, forty fathoms deep. Then Ilya turned and left the chamber,

and coming out into the courtyard said in the voice of him who must

be obeyed: "Give me the keys of gold which unlock the doors of the

dungeon and show me the way to the dark vaults beneath this palace

of white stone." So they pointed out the way, and he found it choked

with yellow sand and barred with huge logs of wood.

 

He had really no need of keys of gold, silver, iron, or steel; for

in the strength of his heroic anger he tore the locks asunder with

his hands and forced back the doors with his heels until they burst

from their frames. Then came forth from the dungeons forty Tsars

and Tsareviches, forty kings and princes, with their eldest sons,

together with Nikitich the youth of supernatural wisdom, who could

both read and write, but whose wonderful learning had not made him

proof against the wiles of Princess Zenira although her beauty was

only that of the newly-fallen snow upon the steppe illumined by the

cold rays of the rising moon.

 

There stood this great company, blinking their eyes in the light and

looking very foolish, and as they hummed and ha'ed and wondered how

to explain themselves, the fair Princess Zenira, as beautiful as ever,

came round a corner of the dark passage, and her moonlight beauty lit

up the darkness of the dungeon. In spite of all their experiences

it was clear that her fascination still worked upon the hearts of

the prisoners, and seeing this Ilya cried in a voice which shook the

vaults until they re-echoed again and again, "Tsars, to your tsardoms;

kings, to your kingdoms; Nikitich, to my side; and, being delivered,

say a prayer for Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck."

 

In a few moments the whole company with the exception of Nikitich

was racing pell-mell across the emerald meadow, and having dismissed

the youth of supernatural wisdom, Ilya advanced sternly upon the

fair Princess Zenira. He took her by her lily-white hands and bound

her to three Cossáck ponies fresh from the farthest steppe. Then he

drove them apart and turned his head that he might not see the end of

that white witch; and he divided her treasure among the prisoners,

sending each man's share to his kingdom, and gave the fair white

palace to the flames.

 

Once more Ilya returned to the burning white stone, crossed out the

old inscription and wrote yet another which ran:

 

 

I, Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck, have ridden to the left and

have not gained a wife

 

 

"I will go now," said Ilya, "upon the last road, where wealth is to be

won." So he rode again over the open steppe, and came at length to a

green meadow where deep pits were dug, and then to a dark and gloomy

forest in which there was a mountain cave filled with fair red gold, white silver, and fine seed pearls; and above the entrance to the cave, in the face of the smooth rock, were carved the words,