Kitabı oku: «Czech Folk Tales», sayfa 2

“Well, how did things go?”

“I don’t know whether they went well or ill, but I did what you commanded,” answered Víťazko, handing down the gun to Holy Sunday.

“All right. You did quite right. Here he is!” she said. And then she took out the Pelican bird. Then she gave Víťazko another gun to shoot an eagle with. He went out into the forest, and returned before long with an eagle. She gave him this eagle for his mother, in place of the Pelican bird.

The griffin and the mother were making merry again, hoping that Víťazko would never come back, but he was already near. They were terrified, and began to consider what new task they were to set him.

“You must pretend to be sick still, and tell him nothing can do you any good but the golden apples from the garden of the Griffin. If he goes there the Griffin will tear him in pieces, for he is enraged because Víťazko has killed his brothers.”

Joyfully Víťazko gave the bird to his mother, but she still kept on groaning; nothing was any good, only the golden apples from the garden of the Griffin could save her.

“You shall have them,” said Víťazko, and without resting, he started again and came to Holy Sunday.

“Where are you going, Víťazko?”

“Well,” he replied, “not even that did her any good. Mother is still sick, for only the golden apples from the garden of the Griffin will cure her.”

“Well, you’ll have to fight, my boy,” said Holy Sunday; “but, even though you were stronger than you are, it would be a bad look-out for you. Still, I will help you all I can. Here is a ring for you; put it on your finger, and, when you are in need, think of me, turn the ring round on your finger, and you will have the strength of a hundred men. Now mount the magic horse; he will take you there.”

Víťazko thanked her heartily, mounted the magic horse, and was carried by him a far journey, till they came to a garden hedged about by a high rampart. Had it not been for the magic horse Víťazko could never have got into the garden, but the horse flew like a bird over the rampart. Víťazko leapt down from the horse, and instantly began to look for a tree with golden apples. A beautiful girl met him and asked him what he was looking for. Víťazko said that he was looking for golden apples to cure his sick mother, and begged her to tell him where to look for them.

“The apple-tree is under my charge, and I must not give the apples to anybody, or the Griffin would tear me to pieces. I am a king’s daughter, and the Griffin carried me off and brought me to this garden and put me in charge of the apples. Go back, good youth, go back, for the Griffin is very strong, and, if he sees you, he will kill you like a fly,” said the girl.

But Víťazko was not to be turned back, and he hastened on into the garden. So the princess pulled off a priceless ring and handed it to Víťazko, saying: “Take this ring, and when you think of me and turn this ring round on your finger, you will have the strength of a hundred men, otherwise you could not gain the victory over the Griffin.”

Víťazko took the ring and put it on his finger. He thanked her and went off to the centre of the garden. In the middle of the garden stood an apple-tree full of golden apples, and underneath it a horrible Griffin was lying.

“What do you want here, murderer of my brothers?” shouted the Griffin.

“I have come to get some apples from this tree,” answered Víťazko undauntedly.

“You shall not have any of the apples unless you wrestle with me,” exclaimed the Griffin angrily.

“I will if you like. Come on!” said Víťazko, and he turned the ring on his right hand and thought of Holy Sunday. He set his legs wide apart and they began to wrestle. In the first round the Griffin moved Víťazko a little, but Víťazko drove him into the ground above his ankles. Just at this moment they heard a swirl of wings above them, and a black raven shouted to them:

“Which am I to help, the Griffin or Víťazko?”

“Help me,” said the Griffin.

“And what will you give me?”

“I will give you gold and silver as much as you like.”

“Help me,” cried Víťazko, “and I will give you all those horses grazing on yonder meadow.”

“I will help you, then,” said the raven. “But how am I to help you?”

“Cool me when I grow hot,” said Víťazko. He felt hot indeed, for the Griffin was breathing out fire against him. So they went on wrestling. The Griffin seized Víťazko and drove him into the ground up to his ankles. Víťazko turned the ring, and again he thought of Holy Sunday. He put his arms round the Griffin’s waist and drove him down into the ground above his knees. The black raven dipped his wings in a spring, and then he alighted on Víťazko’s head and sprinkled cool drops over Víťazko’s hot cheeks, and thus he cooled him. Then Víťazko turned the other ring and thought of the beautiful maiden, and they began wrestling again. So the Griffin drove Víťazko into the ground up to his ankles, but Víťazko took hold of him and drove him into the ground up to his shoulders, and quickly he seized his sword, the gift of Holy Sunday, and cut the Griffin’s head off.

The princess came to him at once and plucked the golden apples for him. She thanked him too for delivering her, and said that she liked him well and she would marry him.

“I like you well too,” confessed Víťazko, “and, if I could, I would go with you at once. But if you really love me, and if you will consent to wait a year for me, I will come to you then.”

The princess pledged herself by shaking hands with him, and she said she would wait a year for him. And so they said good-bye to each other. Víťazko mounted his horse, cleared the rampart at a leap, killed the horses on the meadow for the black raven, and hastened home.

“Well, how have you fared?” asked Holy Sunday.

“Very well, but if it hadn’t been for a ring which was given me by a princess I should have fared very badly,” answered Víťazko, and he told her everything. She told him to go home with the golden apples and to take the magic horse with him too. Víťazko obeyed.

The griffin and the mother were carousing again. They were greatly startled when Víťazko came riding home; they had never expected that he would return alive even from the garden of the Griffin. The mother asked what she should do; but the griffin had no more shifts; he made off to the tenth room at once and hid himself there. When Víťazko had given the apples to his mother, she pretended that the mere sight of them had cured her, and, rising from the bed, she put the finest of food before Víťazko and then began to caress him as she used to do sometimes when he was a tiny baby. Víťazko was delighted to see his mother in good health again. The mother took a strong cotton cord and said jestingly: “Lie down, dear son; I will wind this cord round you as I used to wind it round your father, to see if you are as strong as he was, and if you can break it.”

Víťazko smiled and laid himself down, and allowed his mother to wind the cord round him. When she had finished, he stretched his limbs and snapt the cord in pieces.

“You are strong,” she said. “But wait! I will wind this thin silk cord round you to see if you can break it also.”

So she did. Víťazko tried to stretch his limbs, but the more he stretched, the deeper the cord cut into him. So he was helpless, and had to lie like a baby in its swaddling-clothes. Now the griffin hastened to cut his head off; he hewed the body in pieces and hung the heart from the ceiling. The mother packed the body in a cloth, and put the bundle on the back of the magic horse, which was waiting in the courtyard, saying:

“You carried him alive, so you can carry him dead too, wherever you like.”

The horse did not wait, but flew off, and soon they reached home.

Holy Sunday had been expecting him, for she knew what would probably happen to him. Without delay she rubbed the body with the Water of Death, then she put it together and poured the Water of Life over it. Víťazko yawned, and rose to his feet alive and well. “Well, I have had a long sleep,” he said to himself.

“You would have been sleeping till doomsday if I hadn’t awakened you. Well, how do you feel now?”

“Oh! I am all right! Only, it’s funny: it’s as though I had not got any heart.”

“That is true; you haven’t got a heart,” answered Holy Sunday.

“Where can it be, then?”

“Where else should it be, but in the castle, hanging from the crossbeam?” said Holy Sunday, and she told him all that had happened to him.

But Víťazko could not be angry, neither could he weep, for he had no heart. So he had to go and get it. Holy Sunday gave him a fiddle and sent him to the castle. He was to play on the fiddle, and, as a reward, was to ask for the heart, and, when he got it, he must return at once to Holy Sunday – those were her orders.

Víťazko went to the castle, and when he saw that his mother was looking out of the window, he began playing beautifully. The mother was delighted with the music below, so she called the old fiddler (for Holy Sunday had put that shape upon him) into the castle and asked him to play. He played, and the mother danced with the griffin; they danced hard, and did not stop until they were tired. Then the mother gave the fiddler meat and drink, and she offered him gold, but he would not take it.

“What could I do with all that money? I am too old for it,” he answered.

“Well, what am I to give you, then? It is for you to ask,” said the mother.

“What are you to give me?” said he, looking round the room. “Oh! give me that heart, hanging there from the crossbeam!”

“If you like that, we can give it to you,” said the griffin, and the mother took it down and gave it to Víťazko. He thanked them for it, and hastened from the castle to Holy Sunday.

“It is lucky that we have got it again,” said Holy Sunday; and she took the heart in her hands, washed it first in the Water of Death and afterwards in the Water of Life, and then she put it in the bill of the Pelican bird. The bird stretched out his long neck and replaced the heart in Víťazko’s breast. At once Víťazko felt it joyfully leaping. And for this service Holy Sunday gave the Pelican bird his freedom again.

And now she said to Víťazko: “You must go once more to the castle and deal out justice. Take the form of a pigeon and, when you think of me, you will regain your own shape.”

No sooner had she said this than Víťazko was changed into a pigeon, and away he flew to the castle. The mother and the griffin were caressing each other when suddenly a pigeon alighted on the window-sill. As soon as the mother saw the pigeon she sent the griffin to shoot him, but before the griffin could get hold of his crossbow the pigeon flew down into the hall, took human form, seized the sword and cut the griffin’s head off at a stroke.

“And what am I to do with thee, thou good-for-nothing mother?” he said, turning to his mother, who in terror fell at his feet begging for mercy. “Do not be afraid – I will not do you any harm. Let God judge between us.” He took her hand and led her to the castle yard, unsheathed his sword, and said: “Behold, mother! I will throw this sword into the air. If I am guilty, it will strike me; if you are guilty, it is you it will strike. Let God decide.”

The sword whirled through the air, it darted past Víťazko’s head, and smote straight into his mother’s heart.

Víťazko lamented over her and buried her. Then he returned to Holy Sunday and thanked her well for all her kindness. He girded on the sword, took his beech-tree in his hand, and went to his beautiful princess. He found her with her royal father, who had tried to make her marry various kings and princes, but she would marry none of them. She would wait a year, she said. The year was not yet over when one day Víťazko arrived in the royal palace to ask for the maiden’s hand.

“This is my betrothed,” exclaimed the princess joyfully, as soon as she saw him, and she went straight up to him.

A splendid feast was made ready, the father gave his kingdom into their hands, and that is the end of this story.

BOOTS, CLOAK, AND RING

Once there was a blacksmith, and he had only one son, John by name. They sent him to school, but fortune changed and his parents fell into poverty, so they were forced to take their son home again. John had already passed through the higher standard, but he could not support his parents. So one day he said:

“Father and mother! What can I do at home? There is no business here, so I can’t be a clerk, and I am too old now to learn a trade. So I will go out into the world and find myself a job, and, whenever I can, I will send you some money. And when I get a good job, you must sell your cottage and come and live with me.”

His father and mother wept, because he wanted to leave them, but they knew that he was right, for there was no chance for him if he stayed at home. So they let him go. They gave him their blessing before he went out into the world. John wept till his heart nearly broke at parting with his aged parents.

He walked on till noon. At noon he sat down beneath a lime-tree beside a well, and had his meal and a drink. Then, strengthened and refreshed, he walked on till nightfall. The country was quite unknown to him, so he had to spend the night in the forest. The next day he went on again till he came into a wild mountain country. There he stopped and thought over what he should do next. He stood awhile, and then he went on again. He reached a pleasant valley, and there he found three brothers. They were quarrelling and on the point of coming to blows. John asked them what the matter was. The eldest answered:

“Our father has died, and he bequeathed to us these boots, this cloak, and this hat. And each of us would like to own the boots.”

“Why?” asked John.

“Because they have the property that whoever puts them on can cover ten miles in the moment he wishes it. The cloak has the property that its owner can fly as far and as high as he likes. And the property of the hat is that it makes its wearer invisible.”

John said: “You are brothers, and you ought not to quarrel. You must love one another. So that you won’t quarrel any more, I will decide the matter for you. Give me those things.”

They gave him the boots, the cloak, and the hat. He put the hat on, and they couldn’t see him any more; he wrapped himself in the cloak, took the boots, and flew away.

He flew some distance before he alighted upon a log and put the boots on. As he sat on the log, it turned over, and he saw a big hole under it. He went down the hole and came to some stairs, and went down them to the bottom without any difficulty. There he found a big room without any human being in it. The table was laid for one person. He thought: “I am hungry. Shall I eat this meal?” Finally he decided to risk it; he took off his hat and began to eat.

When he had finished, an old crone entered the room, and asked: “Did you like your meal?”

“Oh, it was very nice indeed,” answered John; “and, by the way, could you give me lodging for the night?”

“I will, if you can stand it; for at midnight twenty-four ghosts will come, and they will try to make you play cards with them and dance with them. But you must sit still and not so much as look at them.”

So the first night came. John was sitting eating his meal. When he had finished, he remained at table. After eleven o’clock two dozen ghosts entered the room and asked him to play cards with them. He refused, so they began preparations for playing skittles, and again asked him to join them, but he would not. Then a delightful music began to play, and they asked him to dance with them. No, he wouldn’t; he did not so much as look at them. They kept on dragging him about, tearing and biting him, till he began to think it was all over with him. But just then it struck twelve, and the ghosts vanished.

In the morning the old crone came back and waked him, for he was still asleep on the ground. She asked him: “How did you sleep?”

“Very well,” said John.

“Did you, now?” answered the old woman. “Well, next night will be still worse, if you can stand it. Two score of ghosts will come, and they’ll urge you to play cards and skittles with them and to dance with them. But you must sit quiet; don’t so much as look at them.”

He stayed there that day, and had a good time. Then the second night came. After eleven o’clock twoscore ghosts rushed in. They urged him to play cards and skittles with them and to dance with them. But John wouldn’t. He sat still, without so much as looking at them. So they began to torture him again, and dragged him about even worse than before. But when it struck twelve they left him on the ground and disappeared.

In the morning the old crone came. She washed him with some lotion till he recovered. She asked him: “How did you sleep?”

“Splendidly,” said he.

“Did you, now?” said she. “It was a bad lodging for you, but the third night will be even worse, if you can stand it. Three score of ghosts will come, and will urge you to play cards and skittles and to dance with them. But you must sit still and not so much as look at them.”

All that day he had a good time again. The third night came, and after eleven o’clock three score of ghosts rushed in. They gathered round him, and urged, prayed, and besought him to play and dance with him. When he refused, they seized him and began knocking him against the ground, tearing and biting him, so that he lost his senses and did not see them go away.

In the morning the old crone came and anointed him with a precious salve till he recovered. The old woman said: “You wouldn’t have had such a bad time if you had not stolen the boots, the cloak, and the hat. The ghosts would simply have pressed you; they would have had no power over you. As you followed my advice and did not play with them, you have delivered an enchanted town and a beautiful princess. She will come to you at once. Now you are rich, return the stolen goods.”

Then there came a girl in a white robe. It was the beautiful princess, and she thanked him for delivering her and the whole town. He went to the window, and outside he saw streets full of people and soldiers and a great bustle going on. The princess said:

“My father is a king, and you will marry me and succeed him. But my father dwells far from here, and we will go to him. Do you take this ring here.”

So they went off. When the wedding was to take place, John wanted his parents to be present, so he asked the princess: “May I go to see my parents? I would like them to be at our wedding.”

The princess answered: “They live a great way from us, but you will be able to get to them. The ring I gave you has the property that, when you turn it on your finger and wish to go a hundred miles, you will cover that distance in a moment. On your way you will come to a king who has a beautiful daughter. But you must not think of her nor of me, for then you will lose the ring, and you will not be able to go any farther.”

John started. He turned the ring, and in a moment he was a hundred miles off, and found himself with a king who had several sons. They entertained him splendidly. Then he came to another king who had an only daughter, and she was very vulgar. The king insisted that John should marry her. John thought: “What are you thinking of, my man? My bright one is so beautiful that there is not her equal in the wide world, while your daughter is only a vulgar creature.” At the moment he thought of his bride the ring slipped from his finger and disappeared.

John left them then. He was very sad, and considered what he should do. “My bride is far away now,” he thought. “I cannot find my way either to her or to my parents.”

As he was walking along in this sad mood, he thought of his cloak, and it came into his mind that, if he could reach the Sun’s abode the same day, he could ask where his bride’s castle was. As soon as he thought of this he was at the Sun’s house. The Sun was not in; only his housekeeper was at home. He asked her for a lodging, and said that he would like to ask the Sun whether he knew the castle where his bride dwelt. She gave him the lodging. When the Sun returned home in the evening, John asked him whether he had any knowledge of the castle in which his wife dwelt. The Sun answered: “I don’t know. I never shone there. But go and ask the Moon.”

The next day, as soon as he woke, he flew off on his cloak to the Moon’s castle. When he got there, the Moon was not in, and John asked the housekeeper for a night’s lodging. He said he would like to ask the Moon’s advice.

The housekeeper said: “You must wait till the Moon comes home, but you will be very cold, for my mistress is an extremely cold person.”

“I will crouch in a corner and wait till the mistress comes; in any case, my cloak is warm enough.”

When the morning drew near, the Moon returned home, and John asked her whether she knew where his bride’s castle was.

The Moon said: “I never shone there. But go to the Wind. He is a fellow who penetrates everywhere, and so he is likely to know where that castle is.”

So John went to the Wind’s house. The Wind was not in, but Melusine, his wife, was alone at home. John asked her to let him stay there for the night. She tried to dissuade him.

“It is impossible, good sir. My lord is used to blow terribly. It will be exceedingly cold.”

He answered: “I will cover myself up and crouch somewhere. I can endure cold, and, anyhow, my cloak is warm enough.” So he stayed there for the night.

After midnight the Wind came home and asked: “Who is here with you, wife? I smell a man.”

“Who should be here?” she said. “Your nose is still full of the human smell.”

But the Wind persisted: “There is somebody here! Tell me!”

So she confessed. “Don’t be angry, dear husband! There is a man staying here for the night, and he wants to ask you whether you will be kind enough to take him to his bride’s castle.”

The Wind answered: “It is very far from here, and I must ask the Lord how strongly I am to blow, if we are to get there. I was there yesterday; they are going to celebrate a wedding there, and they have been drying some shirts ready for it, and I have been helping them.”

The Wind went to ask the Lord; and when he came back, he said to John: “I can blow strongly enough, but I don’t know whether you will be able to keep step with me.”

John answered: “I have got good boots, and I am sure I can.”

So he wrapped himself in his cloak, covered his head with his hat, and put his boots on, and he went ahead so quickly that the Wind could hardly keep step with him. As they drew near to the castle, the Wind said: “Here it is,” and disappeared in a whirl.

The other bridegroom had already arrived, and was at the wedding feast. John passed through the castle, and came to the table at which they were dining. Nobody could see him. He remained standing near the bride, and whenever she lifted the food to her mouth, he ate it before it could reach her mouth, so that the spoon reached her mouth empty.

After the banquet she said: “My plates were well filled, and yet it is as though I had been eating nothing at all. Who is it that has eaten my food? My glass was full too. I have not drunk, and yet it is empty. Who has drunk my wine?”

Then she went to the kitchen, and John followed close at her heels. When she was alone he revealed himself. He took his hat off, and she knew him. She was greatly rejoiced at this, and ran to the room and said:

“Gentlemen, I would like to ask you a question. I had a golden key and I lost it. So I had a silver key made for me, and, now that it is made, I have found the golden key. Would you be so kind as to advise me which of them I ought to keep?”

The bridegroom stepped forward and said: “Keep the golden key.”

Off she went. She dressed John in beautiful garments, and then presented him to the guests, saying: “This is my golden key. He delivered me from torment, and I was to marry him. He went to see his parents, but he could not reach them. Now he has come back to me just as I was going to marry another man, the silver key of my story, though I had given up all hope of his return. Yet he has come back, and I shall keep him, the golden key, for the silver key has himself decided so.”

The wedding was celebrated the next day, and John took charge of the old king’s kingdom. Then they both went to visit his old parents, and brought them back with them to the palace. On their way back they called on the three brothers, and John gave them back the boots, the cloak, and the hat. And if they haven’t died since, they are still alive enjoying their kingdom.