The Russian Story Book 12

The Russian Story Book 12

Now at the game of changes no one could excel Marina, and when she

heard the threat of the aunt of Nikitich she changed herself into

a grey swallow and flew over the head of the chattering magpie far

away across the open steppe. After a long flight she came to the

golden-horned heroic ox, and alighting upon his head said in his ear:

 

"Promise me now, Nikitich, promise me with a great oath that you will

take the golden crowns with me, and I will turn you back into your

own shape again. Swear now, for you have roamed the wild steppe and

must needs be weary, and have wandered far by the bubbling marshes

and must needs be tired."

 

"Ah, sweet Marina," said Nikitich, glancing upward with a piteous look,

"only deliver me from the form of this heroic beast and I will take

the golden crowns with you. I will marry you, Marina, and will teach

you the little lessons which a wise husband imparts to an obedient

wife for her advantage."

 

Then Marina believed him and turned him into a goodly youth as he had

been when he first entered her apartment in search of his fiery dart;

and she changed herself into a lovely bride, but she could not change

the emerald hue of her eyes.

 

"Now I will wed you, Marina," said the wise Nikitich. "Round this

bush we go, three times round this willow bush, and then you may call

Nikitich your husband if you will." So round the bush they went,

hand in hand, three times round the willow bush, while the eyes of

the beautiful bride gleamed greener than ever before.

 

So the bride and bridegroom came, side by side, to the palace of

Marina, where Nikitich called to one of the servants:

 

"Ho, there, bring me a cup of green wine, and a sword of damascened

steel, sharp and bright."

 

At these words the witch bride put forth her spells again and turned

her bridegroom into a little ermine and began to frighten him. Then

she turned him into a falcon, but by her witchcraft she was able to

prevent him from flying anywhere except round and round her head.

 

"I cannot fly like the falcon clear," said Nikitich, "I can only

flap my wings up and down. Give me, I beg of you, a cup of green wine

to drink."

 

Then as if to delight her own eyes and tease him still further, the

witch bride turned him once more into a goodly young man who shouted

out again:

 

"Ho, there, bring me a cup of green wine and a sword of damascened

steel, sharp and bright."

 

Once more Marina raised her lily-white hands and began to perform

her enchantments. But before she could change her bridegroom again

the servant stood at his side with the cup of wine in one hand and

the sword in the other. Nikitich set aside the wine and taking the

sword in his hands cut off the head of Marina with one sharp stroke.

 

In the morning, as the young man went to his bath, a great company

of princes and nobles met him in the passage:

 

"Hail, Nikitich," they cried courteously. "How is it with your bride?"

 

"Hail, princes and nobles, heroes and courtiers of Vladimir," said

the young man with a jolly laugh. "Last night I was wedded and no

longer alone. This morning I am alone and no longer wedded, for I

have cut off the head of my troublesome bride, who had brought to

their death many heroes and princes of Holy Russia."

 

Then he went to his bath, and returning to the court of Vladimir

was given a seat in the great corner while he told his wonderful

adventure. "There is no need," said the Prince, "to cross the boundless

plain for strange happenings, for to the adventurous the adventure

may come in a narrow lane."

 

But in spite of the words of his Prince, Nikitich now longed to roam

the open plain to seek fresh adventures. So he set out on the very

next day and wandered on and on until he came to a wide-spreading oak

on which a pied raven, half of whose wings were white, sat croaking,

croaking, croaking. So harsh was its voice that Nikitich strung his

bow, fitted a flaming arrow to the cord and prepared to shoot the

croaking bird. But as he did so the raven put its head on one side

and spoke to him in the speech of Holy Russia.

 

"Hail now, little Nikitich, the adventurer. Do not kill me and I will

make known to you all kinds of secrets. Do not the little ones of the

lanes and streets say to one another, 'There is no wisdom in killing

an old man, and he who shoots a raven makes no broth.' Now that I see

your bow unstrung I will tell you something worth knowing in return

for your forbearance. By the lofty mountain across the steppe there

are three wonders, even three marvellous damsels. The first is a lily

for whiteness, the second is a rose for redness, and the third is a

violet for darkness. More beautiful are they than the spring flowers

on the steppe. How is this for an adventure on a fine morning for

Nikitich the slayer of dragon brides?"

 

Now Nikitich had succeeded so well in his first adventure that he

was burning to try a second. So he lowered his bow and reflected a

little before he spoke. Then he said:

 

"What you have quoted of the children's wisdom must be true and I

will try the adventure. It is better to go to the lofty mountain and

see with my own eyes the lily, the rose, and the violet, those three

marvels of beauty, than that I should prove my valour by shooting a

raven." Then the pied bird flew away, croaking, croaking, croaking.

 

Nikitich turned his horse and rode, quickly, very quickly, very, very

quickly, and with heroic speed, towards the lofty mountain far away

across the open steppe, and at the foot of this mountain he found a

pavilion of fair white linen embroidered with gold. "This is a fitting

dwelling for three marvellous damsels," said the young man to himself,

"the first a lily for whiteness, the second a rose for redness, and

the third a violet for darkness. But it seems to me that either they

are not at home or they have locked up their beauty very securely;"

for the entrance to the pavilion was secured by a stout bar on which

was a lock of damascened steel. The young man alighted, spread fine

wheat for his horse near the entrance of the pavilion, planted his

spear in the bosom of moist Mother Earth, and went forward to look

more closely at the lock, upon which he found this inscription:

 

 

"Whoso enters this pavilion shall not come thence alive."

 

 

This was, of course, a direct invitation to an adventurous youth,

and with one blow of his fist Nikitich struck the lock from its place

and it fell to the earth at his feet. Then he removed the beam and

pushed his way into the pavilion, where he saw tables set with food

of the richest and wine of the greenest. He looked round warily,

his hand upon his sword, and even searched beneath the tables, but

found neither hero nor damsels in all the place. So he sat down at

one table and ate well and drank too well, for as soon as he was

satisfied he began to throw food and wine about the floor. When he

was weary of this foolish exercise, he lay down to sleep.

 

For a long time he slept, dreaming of lilies, roses, and violets, and

knew not that even as he slumbered the owner of that fair pavilion was

speeding across the open steppe. This was the hero Alyosha of the court

of Prince Vladimir, who arrived breathless to find a steed feeding

quietly before his pavilion, and a sleeper within who had eaten well

and drunk too well and then had thrown food and wine about the floor.

 

Now at this sight Alyosha grew very angry, and his turbulent heart

boiled within him. His pointed spear was in his hand, and in a moment

his anger suggested to him that he could easily punish Nikitich

for his fault. But he put aside the idea with disgust, for he was a

hero and a gentleman. "I shall win no honour," he said to himself,

"if I kill a sleeping man who is no better than a dead one." Then he

reflected for a few moments, smiled gently, went out of the pavilion

and mounted not his own horse but the good steed of Nikitich.

 

Holding his spear reversed, he rode into the pavilion and struck

the sleeper on the breast with the butt end of it. Nikitich sat up

suddenly, sprang to his nimble feet, from which he had cast his shoes

before falling asleep, and grasping his mace in his right hand prepared

to defend himself against all comers. Then a stern fight began within

the pavilion to the sound of tumbling tables, breaking crockery and

crashing glass. All day they fought without ceasing even to snatch up

a bite of food; all night the fight went on with never a draught of

wine to slake their thirst. For two more days and two more nights the

combat continued, and then there came a clap of thunder loud enough

to wake Svyatogor from his sleep among the Holy Mountains.

 

Now Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck heard that sound and he said to

himself, "Somewhere in the white world Russian heroes are fighting

one another. That is not well, for their strength must be kept for

battle with accursed Tatars."

 

So he saddled his good steed Cloudfall, and those who watched his

preparations for his ride saw him mount, but they did not see him as he

rode, so quickly sped the shaggy bay steed across the open steppe. In

a short space of time he came to the lofty mountain, and entering

the pavilion saw the two young men fighting amidst the remnants of a

feast. Then he seized Nikitich by his right hand and Alyosha by his

left and shouted in a heroic voice, "Why fight against each other,

ye heroes of Holy Russia?"

 

Alyosha was the first to speak. "Ah," he said, "thou Old Cossáck,

Ilya of Murom, how could I refrain from punishing Nikitich? For I

prepared a banquet within my own pavilion and this fellow unbarred

the door, sat down by himself to eat well and drink too well, and

then scattered the rich food and green wine about the floor!" As he

spoke, the voice of Alyosha rose higher and higher with indignation

until the last words were like the scream of a peacock in the garden

of the Princess Apraxia.

 

"You did well, Alyosha," said Ilya with a fatherly smile about his

lips, "for a man is no man who is not able to defend his own. And as for you, Nikitich, how does it stand with your case?"