The Russian Story Book 18

The Russian Story Book 18

"Go thy way, young Kasyan, and thou shalt overtake the forty at the

first inn upon the way to the holy city of Jerusalem. Pray in that holy

city, visit the grave of the risen Lord and bathe in Jordan river. And

when you come home again build a cathedral church to St. Nicholas,

who loves all men and especially youths and maidens." Then the old

man vanished from sight; it was only a snow-wreath driven before the

winter wind across the white world and he was gone.

 

Young Kasyan went on his way and late on that same evening he

overtook his companions, who, when they saw that he was much more

comely than he had ever been, rejoiced over him and praised God for

His goodness. Meanwhile Prince Vladimir had come to the place where

young Kasyan had been buried and found a deep pit only, whereupon he

and his company returned in wondering amazement to Kiev town.

 

 

 

Once more the one-and-forty pilgrims home returning stood at the

gateway of Prince Vladimir's palace, asking alms in the name of the

Risen Lord. Then the Prince begged them with reverence to enter his

great hall and partake of his hospitality, and they came within the

portals. But before they sat down to meat Kasyan asked that he might

be taken to the Princess, who still lay upon the dung-heap, and whom

when he saw in her sorrow and debasement he breathed upon with his

holy breath. Then he laid his white hand upon her lowly head and

pardoned her, and she arose, arrayed herself, and had never seemed

so fair in the eyes of her lord, Prince Vladimir.

 

Then after feasting and quiet merriment the one-and-forty pilgrims

went to their own home; and young Kasyan raised a cathedral church to

St. Nicholas, who loved all men and especially youths and maidens;

and for himself he spent his time in holy deeds and in ministration

to the poor, loving always the Dream Maiden only and keeping her ever

in his golden heart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

HOW STAVR THE NOBLE WAS SAVED BY A WOMAN'S WILES

 

 

Stavr the Noble lived in Chernigof, and when the daughter of Prince

Vladimir was honoured at her father's feast he was among the guests

but took no part in the boasting. For he sat all silent while the

heroes praised their heroic chargers, their mighty strength, or their

rich store of treasure, and while the merchants bragged of their great

wealth of Siberian fox-skins or sables. Now when the Prince saw Stavr

sitting all silent, he poured out with his own royal hands a cup of

green wine and brought it to him, courteously inquiring why he would

neither eat nor drink.

 

"You do not eat of the white swan, Lord Stavr," he said, "nor do you

make any boast along with the others. Have you then no towns with

wide suburbs, or villages with subject hamlets, nor yet a good mother,

nor a beautiful young wife of whom you may make your boast?"

 

"I have enough of which I might boast," said Stavr. "What petty town

is this of Kiev? My palace alone covers five miles, my halls of white

oak are hung with pelts of the grey beaver, the roof with skins of

the black sable. The floors are of silver and the locks and bars are

of steel.

 

"Furthermore, Prince Vladimir, I have thirty young men in my hire,

each one a master shoemaker. With never a pause the thirty continue

making shoes, and I wear a pair for one day and only by a chance wear

them a second day. After I have cast off a pair of these shoes they are

taken to the market and sold to some prince or nobleman for their full

value. I have another thirty young men in my hire, each one a master

tailor. With never a pause the thirty continue making coats, and I wear

a coat for one day and only by a chance wear it for a second day. After

I have cast off one of these coats it is taken to the market and sold

to some prince or nobleman for its full value. But I am no boaster."

 

"Moreover," he went on, after a short pause for breath, "I have a

mare with a golden coat which cost at a market price five hundred

roubles. On the best of her foals I ride abroad myself, while the

worst are sold to princes and nobles, who are delighted when they

get them. But I am no boaster."

 

"Yet there is one treasure," he continued, "of which I will boast,

and that is my wife Vasilissa, who could buy all Kiev town in one

market and sell it in the next, who could by her wiles deceive the

most dignified princes and nobles, and drive even Prince Vladimir

out of his mind."

 

For a moment no one among the guests spoke a single word, but Prince

Vladimir sat in his place with ever darkening brow. Then some of the

men about him said:

 

"Prince Vladimir, Fair Sun of Kiev, it is not meet to permit this

boaster to flout us all. Let him be cast into a cold, dark dungeon,

and then let his young wife Vasilissa buy all Kiev town in one market

and sell it in the next, let her by her wiles deceive us all, and

let her, if she can, drive even Prince Vladimir out of his mind."

 

The counsel seemed wise to the Prince, and he ordered his guards

to fasten iron fetters on the feet and hands of Stavr, and to place

him in a cold, dark dungeon, with doors of iron and locks of steel,

and there feed him on frozen oats and cold spring water. This was

done forthwith, but while the Prince's command was being performed

the body-servant of Stavr took horse and rode homeward to Chernigof,

where he found Vasilissa presiding at a great feast which she had made

for the wives of the rich traders and the councillors of the town,

including also the wife of the Elder, who was of great consequence.

 

When the young Vasilissa heard the news from Kiev town she rose in

her place at the board and said:

 

"It is time, good dames, that ye went to your own dwellings."

 

Then they all did so without a word, and Vasilissa sat pondering

for the space of three full hours. "It is not a matter of ransom,

however high the offer," she said to herself, "nor of force, however

great and courageous, but it is a matter for a woman's wit."

 

Then she rose in her place, went to her own apartment and summoned

the ladies of her wardrobe.

 

"My trusty maids," she said, "cut off my red gold hair, dress me like

an envoy to a prince and prepare for me a heroic steed. I go now as

ambassador from Kodol Island to Prince Vladimir, the Fair Sun of Kiev,

asking the hand of his daughter Lovely in honourable marriage."

 

In a short space of time she was ready, shorn and dressed like a

goodly gallant and a prince's envoy. Then they brought her heroic

steed, and she rode off, surrounded by a brave body-guard of forty

youths of the stoutest, across the open, boundless glorious plain,

and as she rode she trilled a merry song.

 

Half of the journey was accomplished when the party met a rider whose

face was sternly set towards the city of Chernigof. They greeted

him courteously, and reining in his horse he asked the leader of the

party who he was and where he was going.

 

"I am the ambassador of King Yetmanuila Yetmanuilovich," was the

answer, "and I am on my way to collect tribute from any princes who

value their lives above roubles. Whither away, yourself?"

 

"I am the messenger of Prince Vladimir," returned the other, "and

I am on my way to lock the doors of Stavr's palace of white stone,

and to conduct his young wife Vasilissa to Kiev town."

 

"You are too late," said the youths of the bodyguard, "for the Lady

Vasilissa has left the palace of her husband and has gone away to a

distant land."

 

The messenger thanked the young men for their news, and turning his

steed, rode swiftly back to Kiev town, where he informed his royal

master that an ambassador from the stern King Yetmanuila Yetmanuilovich

was on his way, with a strong body-guard, to collect tribute from

any prince who valued his life above roubles. At this intelligence

Vladimir was sorely troubled, but gave orders that the streets of

Kiev should be cleaned without delay, and that logs of wood should

be placed across the muddy holes, so that a fair passage might be

afforded to the body-guard.

 

When Vasilissa reached the outskirts of Kiev town she put her good

steed to the walls and leapt lightly over them into the courtyard

of Vladimir's palace of white stone. Then she leapt from her horse,

thrust the butt end of her spear into moist Mother Earth, and flung

the bridle over the point. With the stride of a bold envoy she passed

the guards without greeting, and came into the royal hall, where

she bowed to North, South, East, and West, and especially to Prince

Vladimir. Then she turned to the Prince, and making known her name

as Vasily Mikulich, the envoy of King Yetmanuila Yetmanuilovich, she

demanded the hand of Prince Vladimir's daughter Lovely in honourable

marriage. The Prince looked earnestly at the bold wooer and then said:

 

"It is well. I will give you the hand of my daughter Lovely in

honourable marriage."

 

Then, after due notice had been given, he went in state to his

daughter's apartment to tell her with all the solemnity which the

occasion demanded, that he had chosen for her a goodly husband whose

claim upon her love was supported by a strong body-guard of forty

good youths.

 

But Lovely looked with a smile at her royal father, and then

looked again with a laugh. "Why, father," she said, "this is no bold

ambassador from the Island of Kodol or elsewhere; from King Yetmanuila

Yetmanuilovich or any other stern-eyed monarch. It is a woman. Why,

when he walks in the courtyard I think of a duck in the pond. When he

speaks I think of the note of a flute. When he walks in the palace

I think of the dance, and when he sits on the bench of white oak

he presses his feet close together. His hands are lily white with

taper fingers, and upon them the marks of rings are plainly to be

discovered." Then Lovely laughed and laughed again, and the sound

was not pleasant to Prince Vladimir, the Fair Sun of Kiev, who walked

away to the window.

 

"I will prove her," he said, after pondering for a time. Then he

left the apartment and came to the ambassador. "Will it please you,"

he said courteously, "to accept the challenge of my heroes to a

shooting match?"

 

"I have longed for many things," was the quick reply, "but for none

so much as to receive such a challenge." Then without further delay

they went out upon the open plain and began to shoot at an oak tree

standing at a distance of about a mile. One shot and another shot,

one struck and another missed, the shooting was good and not so good,

and the old oak merely shook its smaller boughs as if a summer breeze were blowing.