A purple bird • Fairy-tales • The Knifer • The Red Gates
Yuri Koval
“Tales”
(Six fairy-tales from the book «Ïîëûííûå ñêàçêè»)
Published as: Þðèé Êîâàëü. Ñêàçêè. Õóäîæíèê Í. Óñòèíîâ.
Ì.: Ðåêë.-èçä. äîì «Èìèäæ», 1991. 96 ñ.(Parallel Russian and English text. Translator unknown. Drawings by Nikolai Ustinov.)
The edition includes six tales from Koval’s “Wormwood Tales”:
The tale of the brother from the steppes / Ñêàçêà ïðî ñòåïíîãî áðàòà,
The tale of the three pancakes / Ñêàçêà â òðè áëèíà äëèíîé,
The tale of the three rubles / Ñêàçêà ïðî òðè ðóáëÿ,
The tale of Big Bad Wolf Eusthyphius / Ñêàçêà ïðî âîëêà Åâñòèôåéêó,
The tale of Mr. William Goat / Ñêàçêà ïðî êîçëà Êîçüìó Ìèêèòè÷à ,
The tale of the silver falcon / Ñêàçêà ïðî ñåðåáðÿíîãî ñîêîëà
The tale of the brother from the steppes
In the village of Polynovka there once lived a young girl with her mother. They were very poor. She had neither brothers nor sisters. She was completely unaware of her brother from the steppes.
One day her mother fell ill, and in the house there was neither bread nor millet – only cold water. The mother drank her fill of water and said to her daughter:
“Daughter dear, go out to the field. Call your brother to help you”. “What brother?” asked the girl.
“Your brother from the steppes”.
Off she went out to the field, stood still and said:
“Brother, O steppe brother, come to my aid!”
And suddenly she heard a rustling in the distance:
“St–ef–an... Stefan...”
And she rejoiced that her brother had come to her aid.
“Stefan, my brother, our mother is poorly, and we have nothing at home, only cold water”.
Whereupon the steppe came alive, the wormwood bushes parted, and there appeared a tall and strange-looking man. He was all in silver, like wormwood itself. His clothes were silver, and so was his hair. He embraced the girl and said:
“I’m Stefan, your brother from the steppes”.
And so they went home, where the brother quickly chopped some firewood and heated some water. Then he went to the neighbors and swapped his silver robe for a sack of potatoes and a big bottle of vegetable oil. They boiled the potatoes, and the mother began to recover.
Thus the three of them began to live together – mother and daughter and Stefan the brother from the steppes. Winter was long, and the potatoes and oil soon ran out. Stefan went to the rich neighbors and this time swapped his silver boots for a sack of flour. And so they lived until spring came, but already Stefan had nothing silver left – only his hair and one silver tooth.
“We can’t live any more like this” said Stefan. “I’m going to the free lands to earn some money. In the fall I shall return”.
The mother and daughter looked on, but there was nothing they could do, and they burst into tears. The girl went to see off her brother from the steppes. They walked as far as the river, where Stefan stopped and said:
“Can you see that white willow? I planted it myself. See its silver leaves? Wherever I am, I’m always tied to this willow by an invisible thread”.
The white willow rustled its leaves, and the girl was happy that her brother had bequeathed her his tree.
“And this is a shirt”, said the brother and took out from his sack a white shirt covered with red embroidery. “I’ve kept it specially for you. Don’t give it to anyone, because it’s a magic shirt. And I shall also leave you my silver tooth”.
“But how?”
“Simple. Just close your eyes. One, two...”
The girl opened her eyes, and her brother was nowhere to be seen. He had disappeared completely. And she didn’t understand what he meant about that silver tooth. When she came home her mother said:
“O, what a lovely silver tooth you have! How did you get it?”
The days passed, but of the brother there was neither sight nor sound. The girl with the silver tooth often went to the bank of the river, sat under her brother’s silver willow tree and listened to the rustling of the leaves.
One day she noticed that some of the willow’s branches had wilted, and were shedding their leaves. She began to worry.
“My brother’s unhappy and lonely. I too shall go to the free lands to help him”.
But the mother would not let her go, and held her by the arm.
“Mother, let me go. Brother’s unhappy – the branches on the willow are wilting!”
And the mother saw that there was nothing she could do but let her daughter go. She dressed her up in the fine embroidered shirt, and began to weep. Two of her tears fell onto her daughter’s breast.
“Darling daughter”, said she. “My tears will save you from death, illness and woes. Take good care of them, and don’t bathe in the river, for they shall wash away. Don’t show your silver tooth to anyone, for they will take it away from you. Better still to coat it with wax”.
And that is what they did. They coated the silver tooth with wax, and the girl set off for the free lands. As she walked through a dark wood, she saw coming towards her an ugly old woman, whose hair was tousled, whose lips were red and whose name was Virago.
“Hello, my girl. Are you going far?”
“To the free lands”.
“I’m coming with you!”
“Let’s go”.
They walked and walked under the baking sun. And then they came to a little river.
“My dear, let’s go for a dip”, said Virago. “It’s so hot”.
On a small sandy bank they undressed. The girl lowered herself into the water, all the time covering her breast with her hand. Virago threw off her rags and grabbed the magic shirt, wanting to put it on.
“O help me Mother, the old woman Virago has grabbed my shirt!”
And immediately her mother’s voice sounded:
“I’m on my way, daughter, I’m running to help you. I’ll unscrew Virago’s head!”
The old woman took fright, dropped the magic shirt and once again put on her old rags. Off they went.
They walked and walked, and the sun was still baking. Then they came to another little river.
“Let’s go for another dip”, said Virago. “But I won’t touch your shirt. I’m too frightened of your mother”.
Virago took off her rags and went into the water.
“Oh how good it feels here in the water”, she said. “Oh, this is just great!”
The girl with the silver tooth could not resist the temptation, got undressed and climbed into the water. As she bathed she covered her breast with her hand, so as not to wash away her mother’s tears, but Virago noticed and splashed water onto her breast and washed the tears clean away.
Out jumped the old woman onto the bank and grabbed the magic shirt. The girl burst into tears and cried out, but this time her mother was silent.
The old woman Virago dressed herself up in the magic shirt and was immediately transformed into a beautiful girl. She jumped and laughed for joy – see what I’ve become! What could be done? The girl had to put on the old rags.
They came to the free lands and there coming towards them was the brother from the steppes. He did not recognise the girl in the old woman’s rags, but he recognised the magic shirt straight away.
“And who are you?” he enquired of Virago.
“What d’you mean, who am I? I’m your very own sister. Surely you recognise me?”
“You don’t look like her”, said Stefan. “Come on, open your mouth”.
The old woman opened her mouth, and there was no silver tooth to be seen!
Stefan laughed and grabbed Virago by the ear:
“What have you done with my sister?”
“Ow, let me go, let me go!” yelled Virago. “You’ll tear my ear off!”
“Leave her, Stefan”, said the girl with the silver tooth. She scraped off the wax and smiled at her brother.
Her brother rejoiced, and kissed his sister.
“My little sister”, he said, “I’m so glad that you’ve come. I’ve been so sad and lonely. Now you will be helping me”.
And brother and sister began to live on the free lands. He ploughed the earth and grew grain, and she helped him in all his tasks. He gave Virago’s ear a good tweak, took the magic shirt away from her and let her go in peace.
In the fall they returned home with luxurious presents – lots of bread, salt and kerosene.
“Now you’ll be able to live through the winter in comfort” said the brother from the steppes. “As for me, I have to be going back”.
“But where to?”
“Back there, to the steppe”.
“What are you saying? Why?” cried the girl with the silver tooth. “Stay with me”.
“I can’t, little sister, I just can’t. You see, I belong to the steppe, to the wormwood. But don’t grieve. Whenever you feel sorrow inside, come to the steppe and call me, and I’ll always answer”.
He kissed the girl – and disappeared into the steppe.
“Answer me, brother!” cried the girl, and the steppe immediately responded:
“St–ef–an, ... Stefan...”
From then on the girl would go the steppe almost every day, and her brother always heeded her call. When she felt really sad, he would come out of the wormwood in order to give her a hug.
The tale of the three pancakes
Once upon a time there lived a little mouse. And this little mouse simply adored pancakes.
So one fine day she baked three pancakes.
She ate the first one up, but it was lumpy and promptly got stuck in her throat. It wouldn’t go down or come back up. But if at first you don’t succeed, try, try and try again.
“Very well”, thought the mouse, “I’ll eat another. That will push down the first”.
She ate a second helping, but this pancake was also lumpy.
“It hasn’t worked”, thought the mouse. “I’d better eat a third one”.
She ate up a third – but all to no avail.
Out jumped the mouse from her burrow and went bounding through the woods, repeating all the time:
“Shake it, shake it, pancakes, do.
Shake yourselves free, I beg of you!”
She ran all the way to an old oak tree standing on the edge of the woods.
Under the oak she stood, and hopped up and down on the spot, trying to shake those pancakes down.
The old oak heard the little mouse trying to persuade her pancakes, and found it all highly amusing.
“What a silly little mouse”, he thought to himself. “I think I’ll give her a fright”.
And he dropped down an acorn so cleverly that it landed right on top of her.
She caught such a fright that she immediately swallowed down the first pancake.
“What’s happening?” squeaked the mouse. ”What hit me?”
The oak grinned: what a silly, foolish mouse! He rustled his branches and whispered:
“It’s the sky falling down!”
The mouse was so frightened that she swallowed down the second pancake as well, and scampered away as fast as her paws could carry her.
“Ho there!”, hollered a passing rat. “Where are you running to?”
“Oh, sister rat! The sky’s falling down! Don’t you understand? It’s caving in! A great big chunk just landed on top of me! Let’s run for it!”
The rat also took fright and sprinted off after the mouse. While she was running she thought to herself:
“But if the sky’s falling down in chunks, how do we know where to flee?”
“Hey you, rodents!” hollered a passing hare. “Where are you running to?”
“Dunno”, answered the , rat. “To where the sky isn’t falling down”.
“What, is it falling down here?”
“Can’t you see for yourself?”
Up looked the hare at the sky, and ... oh ho! Oh no-o-o-o-o! Here it comes – right on top of him! And off he ran!
The mouse, the rat and the hare kept on going, telling everyone that the sky was caving in. And before long a wolf and a fox were running with them as well.
They ran and ran, until once again they came to that old oak tree.
They all huddled under it, crying:
“Sky! O dear sky! Please, please don’t fall down on us!”
“What’s all the yelling and fussing about?” the oak demanded sternly.
“O, Uncle Oak Tree, how can we not yell and fuss? The sky’s falling down”.
“You’re all silly as can be”, said the oak. “It’s you and me that fall down. The sky will stay up there forever”.
He gave his branches a good shake – and down came a hail of acorns. Some landed on the animals’ heads, others right on the backs of their necks.
The animals scattered in all directions. And at that very moment, of course, the little mouse swallowed down the third pancake.
There lived in a village a man whose name was Peter. His nickname, however, was Numbskull.
One day Peter the Numbskull had three rubles. He shoved them into his pocket and went off for a walk.
But every two steps he would stop and check – are those three rubles still there in his pocket?
Ah-ha, here they are. He was so pleased that he had three rubles all of his own. And then once again he put his hand in his pocket – and it was empty! Where were those three rubles? Vanished into thin air.
Peter the Numbskull sat down on a log and burst into tears.
Along through the village came running a boy, whose name was Ignat. Up he came to Peter the Numbskull and said:
“Uncle Numbskull, why are you crying?”
“Oh Ignat! You’d cry too if you’d lost three rubles. Oh woe is me! Oh wo-o-o-o-e!”
“Don’t howl so, Uncle Numbskull”, said the boy. “I’ll soon find them for you”.
“Oh, please, Ignat! I’ll give you a whole kopeck if you do”.
Off went Ignat, and soon he found the three rubles, lying under a burdock plant.
“Here you are, Uncle Numbskull”, he said. “Here are your three rubles. And now you owe me a kopeck”.
Peter the Numbskull was beside himself with joy. He grabbed those three rubles and hid them deep down in his pocket. And then he stuffed his pocket with grass, so that the money would not fall out.
“But Ignat, I don’t have a kopeck coin. But I’ll go and buy myself lots of luxurious things, like tar and nails. When I have a kopeck left, I’ll hand it over to you”.
And Ignat began to drop in on Peter the Numbskull almost every day:
“Uncle Numbskull, when are you going to buy some tar?”
(He wanted to receive his kopeck coin).
“Patience, patience, Ignat”, was the answer. “First I have to put the wheels on my cart. Then I can set off in search of tar to grease the wheels, and then I will have a kopeck left over”.
Ignat ran to visit every day, but instead of being on the cart, the wheels lay in the shed. And there was no kopeck coin.
“You could at least buy some nails”, hinted Ignat.
“You see for yourself’, said Peter the Numbskull. “What on earth do I need nails for when I don’t even have a hammer?”
Ignat kept on coming and asking, and Peter the Numbskull thought to himself:
“Let him keep running back and forth. What does he need a whole kopeck for? Never mind him. If I give him a kopeck I won’t have a full ruble left”.
But in the end he got fed up with Ignat. One day he sneaked down to his cellar to hide. There he sat, holding those three rubles in his pocket. He pushed his fingers through the grass in his pocket specially to feel the money.
But Ignat, as soon as he arrived, immediately guessed where Numbskull was.
“Ho! Uncle Numbskull!”, he hollered from up above. “Is that you down there in the cellar?”
“Er, yes”, answered Peter the Numbskull.
“And are you hiding from little me?”
Peter the Numbskull thought and thought what to say, and finally answered:
“Er, yes”.
“And what about the tar and the nails?” Ignat enquired. “Don’t you think it’s high time you bought them?”
Peter the Numbskull thought and thought what to say. and finally answered:
“Er, yes”.
Off went Ignat, and Peter the Numbskull climbed out of his cellar and thought:
“Oh, how I wish I hadn’t answered his questions. Next time I’d rather die than tell him. But wait a moment – what if I pretend to die?”
Up ran Ignat the very next day – and Peter the Numbskull was nowhere to be seen. Ignat hollered down into the cellar, and silence was the only reply. So he went into the house, and suddenly saw – Peter the Numbskull lying on the table, white as white could be. With a candle burning beside his head!
Ignat got such a fright that he stood stock stilt, frozen to the spot.
He thought to himself:
“Uncle Numbskull has passed away!”
And Peter the Numbskull lay and thought to himself:
“What a good idea it was to rub my ugly mug with chalk. What a clever Numbskull I am! Ignat will never try to grab a kopeck from a dead man. I wonder, where are those three rubles? Still in my pocket?”
And Peter the Numbskull ever so quietly began to reach through the grass into his pocket. But Ignat noticed that in the dead man’s pocket, something was moving.
“Aaaarrrrgggghhhh!” cried out Ignat.
Meanwhile, Peter the Numbskull had jumped to his feet.
“Where are they?! Where are my three rubles?”
Ignat took to his heels and disappeared.
And Peter the Numbskull was left standing on the table, with chalk trickling off his ugly mug. and grass flying out of his pocket.
“Where are my three rubles?” he hollered.
But they weren’t there.
Peter the Numbskull searched high and low. He searched the cellar, and the place where he had rubbed his face with chalk. But he never found his three rubles.
The tale of Big Bad Wolf Eusthyphius
Once upon a time, in the wormwood-grown steppes, there lived an old man and an old woman.
They had Lickpan the cat, Barkie the dog, Hush the little ewe and Bellow the cow.
Close to their homestead, in a deep gulley, there lived Eusthyphius the Big Bad Wolf – a complete menace.
Winter came with frost and snow, and Eusthyphius had trouble finding food. He came to be homestead and said,
“Hullo, old man.”
“Hullo, Wolf Eusthyphius.”
“Listen, old man, give me your old woman for dinner.”
“What an idea! I like my wife.”
“Something else, then. Hear my stomach rumbling?”
Eusthyphius persisted, and there was no getting away from him till the old man gave him Lickpan.
Eusthyphius swallowed the poor kitty in one gulp, and was back: “Where’s your old woman? I’m starving!”
As a good husband should, the old man gave him Barkie instead.
That wasn’t enough.
“I MUST have your old woman!” Eusthyphius said again.
“Aren’t you a bore!” the old man cried. “You’ll never get her, clear?”
“Gimme!” Eusthyphius insisted – an obstinate wolf, he was.
What was the old man to do? He drove out Hush the little ewe.
Eusthyphius swallowed her in one gulp, and was back:
“Old woman!”
“Not on your life!” the old man shouted back. “Leave my wife alone!”
“Don’t you hear my belly rumbling?”
To spare his wife, the old man had to give him Bellow – a huge savage beast, given to butting, who lived up to her name.
“I hope he chokes on her,” the old man said to himself.
Eusthyphius had no problems with the cow, however, and stayed away for two days. On the third day, here he was again, crawling, his belly pressed to the ground.
“Hullo, old man,” he groaned.
“Hullo, Wolf Eusthyphius.”
“Things have gotten in a bad way with my belly,” Eusthyphius said.
“Anything wrong?” the old man said sympathetically, pretending not to understand what the wolf meant.
“My tummy’s rumbling!”
The old man listened – there was a funny kind of rumbling: barking, miaowing and lowing. Only poor little Hush made no sound. The old man wondered if she was still in the wolf’s belly or somewhere else.
“So what’s your point? You want my wife, eh?”
“Sure,” Eusthyphius said. “Give me my dinner!”
“You won’t get her – better have me instead.”
“With pleasure!” the wolf cried. “See, I had the idea for quite a time, but felt it was sort of tactless to blurt it out to you like this. It was merely a hint, about the old woman.”
“Well, eat me, Eusthyphius, and be done with it,” the old man sighed. “Only tell me first where my ewe is”
“Ewe? In my belly. Where else can she be?”
“Well then, have your dinner. Open your big mouth as wide as you can!”
He took a run and a jump, and landed right in the wolf’s big mouth. Eusthyphius gulped, and there the old man was.
He took a look round at the insides of the wolf’s belly:
“Not bad! A bit on the darkish side, but cosy.”
And he went on exploring. It was quite a long trip around the wolfs insides. In one dark corner, he saw Lickpan the kitty.
“Hullo, puss, here you are!”
“Hullo, dad.”
“How’s life?”
“O.K. Dull,” the puss said in a flat little voice.
“Listen, puss, let’s make a revolution,” said the old man.
“What kind of revolution?” the puss asked.
“Turn everything upside down in this belly, clear?”
“O.K.”
They held hands for luck, and started their revolution, leaping and frolicking around. The old man shouted at the top of his voice, and the cat miaowed. The whole population soon assembled – Barkie, and Bellow, and even Hush the little ewe came running Out of some dark recess – and on they went leaping about and making noises.
Quite a revolution it was!
“Butt the belly, Bellow girl!” the old man shouted.
Bellow made a run and stuck a horn in the wolf’s belly.
Here, they heard Eusthyphius’ voice:
“What are you doing in my belly? Starting a revolution or something?”
“We’re doing what should be done,” said Bellow. “Butting your belly through, you fool!”
Impolite sort of cow, WAS old Bellow!
“Better give it up,” said Eusthyphius. “Sit quiet, will you!”
Here, little Hush gave her little voice: “Oh no, we won’t. We can’t sit quiet, Eusthyphius. because you’re badly misbehaving.”
They tore the belly through, at last, and out they were. The old woman was waiting. How they kissed her, all of them!
All the while, Eusthyphius was hanging round.
“At least give me some sturdy thread to patch up my belly,” he said.
They were a good lot, and gave him some. The wolf patched up his belly and slunk away, to his gloomy gulley.
Once upon a time, there lived a lazy farmer.
He had no livestock but a goat and a ram.
He was too lazy to make hay in summer, and when winter came, the animals had nothing to eat.
“Foo-ood, boss!” they hollered so loud that the farmstead shook.
The lazybones got mad, grabbed a whip, and beat them:
“Here’s hay for you! And here are some nice oats!”
The beating over, the goat said: “Things can’t go on like this. Let’s go to the woods. We’ll find a hayrick there, and last through the winter.”
“O.K., Brother Billy. Things can’t get any worse than they are now,” replied the ram.
The goat stole into the house, and swiped the lazy farmer’s loaded gun, while the ram took an empty sack from the porch.
They went along the road, the goat carrying the gun, and the ram dragging the sack behind him.
All of a sudden, they saw a wolf’s head on the road.
“Listen, Brother Baa, take this head and put it in the sack,” Bill said pensively.
“What the devil do we want with it, Brother Billy? It’s a hard journey as it is.”
“Take it, I say. We’ll make a camp and cook a stew.”
“What the devil do we want with stew?” the ram mumbled. “O-o-oh for a handful of hay!”
But he thought the goat might be right, and so he put the head into his sack. On they plodded till the road made a sudden turn into the woods.
“I’m cold. Brother Billy,” the ram complained. “My tail’s turned to ice.”
“Look – there’s a fire over there! Let’s go and get warm.”
And the two made a beeline for the fire.
Why, there were wolves all round it. warm and cosy – seven shaggy brother oafs!
“We’re done for. Brother Billy,” the ram whispered.
“Never say die. Jus’ do what I tell you.”
And on William Goat went, right up to the fire:
“Hullo, guys!”
“Good evening, Mr. Goat,” the wolves answered with reticence.
“Loafing, eh? Cold, are you?”
“Yeah, we’re trying to get warm.”
“I see –” said the goat. “Bit on the cool side, sure. Hi, Baa Boy, what have you got in your sack? Out with it, quick! An empty belly – and the cold turns you into jelly. C’mon!”
The wolves gazed at the goat and the ram spellbound, thinking:
“Really, there IS a God! He sent a goat and a ram right to our fire! Quite a supper.”
“Move over,” Billy snapped at the eldest wolf. “Lounging here – some boss! Lemme warm my ol’ hooves. Hi, Brother Baa, what you thinking of, fumbling about, you slow poke? Take a wolf’s head out of the bag and give it here. Mind it’s from an old wolf – it’ll make strong broth.”
The ram produced the head and gave it to the goat.
“Here’s one,” he bleated out through a panicky cough. “Will it do, Brother Billy?”
“Wrong ‘un,” the goat growled. “Take out the ‘un with the biggest teeth, and make it snappy!”
The ram again fumbled in the sack. He fumbled, and fumbled, and at last produced the same head.
“Ah Brother Baa, you’d make a better donkey than a ram,” the goat sighed. “Wrong ‘un again. Take out the ‘un at the bottom – jus’ the thing.”
“Gosh,” mumbled the ram. “You went ‘bout chopping off all heads, and I have to tell them apart!”
Again he fumbled in the sack, and pulled out the same head.
“O-oh!” said the goat. “Here’s the one! Good thing! Look at these ears! Ha-ha! Jus’ the thing for broth! Start cooking!”
“Now, boys, have you got a pan or bucket with no holes in it?” he addressed the wolves.
The brother oafs took the BIGGEST fright you ever saw!
“No-o,” they said to themselves. “There’s no God in heaven. A sackful of wolf heads! Let’s make ourselves scarce, boys!”
“There’s a bucket. Mr. Goat,” the eldest said. “It’s – mm – over there, under this ash, or the rotten birdcherry. You’ll have it in no time, honest, sir! Hi, Johnnie and Connie, bring the bucket! Mick an’ Dick, up you get an’ bring the water! Chuck and Buck, firewood, quick! Careful, I’ll be watching you!”
Up the wolves jumped and ran for dear life. On they ran, out of breath, eyes bulging, till they ran into Bertie Bruin the Bear.
“What’s up? Are you crazy or something? Where the devil are you running?”
“Fire! Murder! Billy Bully came out of the blue – what’s-his-name – aah, Mr. Goat. He brought a ram along with a sackful of wolf heads. Sure we took fright. Now we’re on the run.”
“The fools! Trembling before a goat and a silly baa-baa! ‘Bout face! High time for supper!” Bertie commanded.
The goat caught sight of the wolves going back in Bruin’s impressive company:
“Quick up the oak, Baa! Climb as high you can! I’m going after you. Where’s our gun?”
Brother Baa tried to clamber up, but couldn’t. All he could do was to catch a hold of the lowest branch with his front hooves and hang like a sack. The goat was more agile, and leaped up onto a higher branch. “Well, where’s our goat, complete with Baa? Bruin inquired.
“No idea, sir! They were sitting right here!”
“Hmm,” said Bruin. “Have to do a little divination. An old lady told me how. I’ll need some acorns. Gather me a handful, boys, and I’ll show you a piece of fortune-telling. We’ll know their whereabouts in no time. Acorns don’t tell lies.”
The wolves started for the oak which hid the goat and the ram.
“Listen, Bill,” the ram whispered, “I’ll fall any moment. My hooves’re killing me.”
“To fall’s just the thing,” the goat whispered back. “Fall as soon as the wolves come up. Only choose your target first – fall right on someone’s head.”
The wolves approached. The oldest one said:
“No acorns about – Hi, what’s this, dangling down?”
Down the ram went on his head! In the meantime, the goat pressed the rifle butt to his shaggy side, pulled the trigger – and bang! came the shot.
“Take the bear, Baa Friend!” the goat hollered. “No use of wolves now with a bear about! No broth for us – we’ll make ourselves a nice juicy steak!”
The wolves jumped out of their skins and took to their heels, and never looked back, and Bertie Bruin lost his head when a bullet whizzed past his ear.
He rushed on blindly – and ran his fat head right into the oak on which the goat was perched!
The goat knew his target – he dropped right on the bear.
“Oh God Almighty!” Bruin squealed and ran off to the woods.
Then, the goat and the ram made themselves at home around the campfire, cooked wolf’s-head broth, and decided never to go back to the farmer.
“What the hell do we want with that lazybones?” said the ram. “Let him manage on his own.”
“Right!” said Mr. Goat. “Let’s make a log cabin here in this forest, and manage on OUR own.”
They built themselves a fine cabin and lived for a hundred and three years if a day. The wolves ran errands for them, made hay in summer, and dried it carefully, and piled it in neat stacks for the winter.
Let me tell you how it was. There lived and served a soldier.
When he had served his time, they sent him home.
So off he went home. As he walked, he thought:
“Here I am going home, but why am I going? After all, I have no family there – neither father nor mother, neither brothers nor sisters. But I don’t mind. They’ve let me go home, so home is where I’m going”.
He walked and walked along the road, and towards him came a devil:
“Hey, soldier, stop. Where are you going?”
“I’m on my way home”.
“But what’re you going to do there? After all, you have no family”.
“I don’t mind. They’ve let me go home, so home is where I’m going”.
“But stop, wait a minute”, said the devil. “There’s no hurry. You can be a soldier for me”.
The soldier stopped and thought, and looked the devil up and down. He did not like this devil, who was smiling sweetly but had a dirty face. His ears were wiggling, and he had horns growing out of his forehead.
“What kind of service”, asked the soldier, “do you have in mind?”
“I have three falcons at home, each in its own cage. Stand guard over them, while I fly off for some money for your wages. When I come back, I’ll pay you handsomely”.
“Well”, said the soldier, “guarding some falcons is not such a tough job. It’s a deal”.
The devil led the soldier to the tents where he lived, and flew off for the money.
The soldier went up to the first tent, and saw a bronze cage standing on the floor inside. And in this cage there was a falcon flapping about. Its wings were brown, its breast red and its eyes were shining like brass, but weeping tears of blood.
The falcon eyed the soldier with fury and threw itself against the bars of its cage.
“Hey now”, said the soldier, “take it easy”, and went off to the second tent. And there in a silver cage sat a falcon as white as snow, and as calm as could be. But it was obviously feeling miserable. It simply opened its brilliant silver eyes, glanced at the soldier, and closed them again.
“That’s right”, said the soldier, “you take a rest”, and off he went further.
And in the third tent in a golden cage there sat a falcon as bright as the sun. It did not even glance at the soldier, and turned its back on him.
No matter how the soldier tried, he could not look into the falcon’s eyes. For some reason he began to feel pangs of conscience.
“Hey now, don’t get mad”, said the soldier to the golden falcon. “I’m only doing my job”.
Out he went into the garden, where he saw a birch tree. He sat down beneath it and set about rolling himself a cigarette. Suddenly he heard a voice:
“Soldier man...”
He looked round, but there was nobody to be seen. And then he heard it again:
“Soldier man, O soldier man!”
“Wha-a-a-t?” said the soldier, and spun his head around – but still there was nobody.
“Soldier, come and serve for me”.
“I’d serve for you”, said the soldier, “but I don’t know who you are, because I can’t see you”.
“You can see me, only you don’t realise it. It’s me, the birch tree you’re sitting under, that’s talking to you”.
“Ah-ha! Oh-ho! Good grief! Well, what d’you know?! So it’s you, birch tree, talking to me! Is that so?”
“It is indeed, it’s me, the birch tree, and I’m talking to you”.
“Well I’ll be blowed!” said the soldier. “Well come on then, birch tree, say what you have to say”.
“This is what I have to say”, said the birch. “For what do you serve? For money or for pleasure?”
“Who, me?”, said the soldier. “I, brother birch tree, serve for money”.
“Shame”, sighed the birch, and fell silent.
The soldier sat a while, lit his cigarette and said,
“What are you so quiet for, birch tree?”
“Because you’re serving for money”, answered the birch, “and where can a tree get money? I need someone to serve me for pleasure”.
“Don’t you have even one kopeck?”, asked the soldier.
“Not one, soldier man”.
“Hmmm”, said the soldier, “that is a pity. But never mind, tell me what you want. I’ve never in all my life served for a tree. I’ll give it a try”.
“But you, after all, are serving for the devil. You be careful – you’ll lose your money”.
“Now just you keep quiet”, said the soldier. “It’s nothing to do with you. Tell me what you want. While you’re chattering away, he’s counting my money. What kind of service d’you have in mind?”
“This is what. You head off to that village yonder on the hill, and find old man Nick there. And whatever he says to you, you do. Understand?”
“Alright, alright”, said the soldier, “whether I understand or not is none of your stupid business. I can’t just sit around passing the time of day with birch trees. You stand here in the ground and wait, and have a chat with any other soldier that comes this way”.
And so the soldier finished his cigarette, took his gun and went off to the village on the hill. Suddenly he saw an old man heading in his direction.
“Good day, old man”.
“Hello, soldier”.
“You’re not old man Nick, are you?”
“That’s me. Why d’you ask?”
“There’s a birch tree growing over there. You know, a white one. And it told me to ask you what I should do”.
“Ah”, said old man Nick. “There’s lots of birch trees on this Earth, and pine trees too. I don’t know what you should do. You just do as your heart tells you”.
Having said this, the old man disappeared in a trice.
“What kind of instruction is that?” thought the soldier. “Do what my heart tells me? What does it tell me? I dunno. Maybe it wants me to smoke a cigarette”.
The soldier lit a cigarette and turned back. He walked and walked, and thought and thought about what his heart might be telling him to do. Before long, his heart told him to have a drink of water.
So the soldier drank his fill of water from a brook and went on further. And then a different command came from his heart: time for a bite to eat. The soldier took a loaf of bread and an onion and obeyed this latest order. In the end, he reached the devil’s tents.
He went into the copper tent, and straight away the bloodstained falcon started flapping in his cage. It flapped and fussed and tore at the bars with its talons, all the time glaring furiously at the soldier.
“The poor handsome thing”, thought the soldier. “Stuck in a cage and can’t even see the light of day. I’ll let it go”.
He opened the cage, and the falcon rushed out to freedom. Only the first thing it did was throw itself on the soldier and tear at his cheeks till they bled – and then it flew out of the window.
The soldier burst into tears, and sat down on the floor.
“So that’s what happens when you obey your heart”, he thought. “Such is the life of a soldier!”
Still crying, he went outside into the garden. He looked up – and there on the birch the bloodstained falcon was sitting, its eye glinting with fury. As soon as it saw the soldier it threw itself at him again.
“Hey, just you calm down”, the soldier told him. “I’ve got a gun loaded with buckshot here, and I’ll splatter you if I have to”.
And he sat down under the birch tree.
“Soldier man, O soldier man”, he heard the voice saying.
“Have you done your duty?”
“I’ve done it. I’ve done my duty”, answered the soldier. “I found the old man and have been obedient, and got a scratched face for all my efforts”.
“That’s not so terrible”, said the birch tree. “I’ll pour some of my sap on it for you”.
And then suddenly the soldier watched as the birch tree stirred, and where there was a fork in its branches the head of a girl appeared, and after the head – her shoulders too. And then the girl emerged from the birch as far as her chest. And sap began to weep from the birch tree straight onto the soldier’s wounds, which immediately healed.
“So that’s how it’s done!”, thought the soldier. “Well I never!”
And the girl who came out of the birch tree looked at the soldier and said affectionately:
“Well done, soldier man”.
“Well done or not, it’s none of your business”, said the soldier. “Come on out a little further from there”.
“I can’t”, said the girl.
“And why not?”
“I don’t know”.
“Pah, there’s women for you!”, said the soldier. “Either they don’t know nuthin’, or can’t do nuthin’! I’d better go and let the second falcon go, the silver one that’s down in the dumps and miserable as death”.
Off went the soldier to the silver tent and opened up the cage. But the falcon merely glanced at him, and stayed where it was. The soldier took it with his hands and carried it out to freedom.
“Go on, go on”, he said, “fly away. Here’s your freedom, silver falcon”.
The bird flapped its wings and took off laboriously to perch on the birch tree. Meanwhile, the girl gasped and emerged from the tree up to her waist.
“That’s not what I was waiting for”, said the soldier. “Come on, just a little further”.
“But I can’t”, said the girl.
“Try a little”.
“I’m not strong enough”, said the girl with a smile.
“Oh, stuff and bother!” cursed the soldier. “I’ll obviously have to let the third falcon go as well”.
He went to the golden cage. The sun-colored falcon was sitting there and ignoring him. The soldier opened up the cage and grabbed the falcon by the wing – and immediately scorched his hand. He grabbed it by the other wing – and this time the falcon froze his hand. There was no way he could get hold of it and drag it out of its cage. The soldier fussed and fussed, wrapped his hands with rags and grasped the falcon and got it outside.
His entire face was scorched by the heat, and through the rags his hands burned and froze.
And then, when they were outside, the falcon finally looked him in the eye with its golden gaze and blinded him on the spot. The soldier fell to the ground, – and the falcon flew away out of his hands into the sky.
The soldier did not start to cry when he realised he was blind. What is the point of a blind man crying? He lay on the ground and suddenly heard:
“Soldier man, O soldier man, are you still alive?”
“I think so”, answered the soldier. “And what about you? Have you come out of the birch tree?”
“Yes”.
“All the way?”
“All the way. It was that devil who cast a spell on me. And now you’ve saved me and let me out of the tree to my freedom. You know, these three falcons are my very own brothers”.
“Some brothers you have”, said the soldier. “The bronze one scratched my face to bits, and the golden one burned my eyes out”.
“Don’t worry”, said the girl. “The silver falcon will save you”.
And then the soldier heard the sound of wings and felt a bird landing on his chest. Suddenly something started dripping into his eyes, and he saw the silver falcon sitting on his chest and weeping, and dripping its tears into his eyes. Thus his sight was restored to him.
The falcon flew off, and the soldier climbed to his feet.
He saw the girl from the birch tree. Her eyes were dark, like the blemishes on the bark of a birch tree, while her skin was not snow white, like birch bark, but warm and rosy, like the wood that hides beneath the bark. Only her shirt was white as birch bark.
On one of her shoulders the bronze falcon was sitting, and on the other – the golden one, while she clasped the silver one to her breast.
The soldier was just about to step towards her when suddenly the sky darkened and there was a peal of thunder in the distance. The soldier realised that this was the devil flying back. He grabbed hold of his gun.
And then they saw the devil blazing a trail across the sky with his leather wings as he flew, carrying the money in a bundle. Behind him a thunder cloud was giving chase – it wanted to strike him with its lightning.
But the devil dodged the lightning, while the soldier took aim.
He let fly with his buckshot, but only some feathers flew and the money shook itself free from the bundle. Then the thunder cloud enveloped them all and there descended such a downpour that they all screwed up their eyes.
And when they opened them again – there was no devil anywhere to be seen, and the thunder cloud had disappeared as well.
The soldier looked and saw that standing alongside the girl were three young men, laughing because they were soaked to the skin. One of them had flame-red hair, the other brown hair, and the third one had hair that was completely silver in color.
They laughed for a long time, for they were thoroughly soaked, and freed from the spell too.
Still chortling heartily, they joined hands and set off for their home village, with the soldier, of course, tagging along beside them.
They all lived well, under one roof.
The soldier thought and thought, and went and married the girl from the birch tree.
“I liked the look of her”, he confided to her brothers.
The soldier and her brothers became the best of friends. He particularly liked the one with silver hair, for he was kind and sincere, although at times for some reason he would become sad.
■
Äðóãèå êîâàëåâåä÷åñêèå ðàçäåëû:
Ïåðåâîäû ïðîèçâåäåíèé Êîâàëÿ íà èíîñòðàííûå ÿçûêè
«Ñóåð-Âûåð»: æóðíàëüíûå âàðèàíòû
Äâà Æèïöîâà • Ê ãåíåàëîãèè áîöìàíà ×óãàéëî
Êîâàëü è Ñîñíîðà: äâà âîîáðàæàåìûõ ïëàâàíèÿ
«Èëëþçîíèÿ» Àëåêñàíäðà Øàðîâà: îäèí èç ïðåäøåñòâåííèêîâ «Ñóåðà»
Ïîñëåäíåå îáíîâëåíèå ñòðàíèöû: 03.01.2023 (Îáùèé ñïèñîê îáíîâëåíèé)