Kitabı oku: «The Shoemaker's Apron: A Second Book of Czechoslovak Fairy Tales and Folk Tales», sayfa 5
THE DEAR LITTLE HEN
THE STORY OF A ROOSTER THAT CHEATED
THE DEAR LITTLE HEN
Once upon a time a big Rooster and a dear little Hen became close friends.
"Let us go to the garden," the Rooster said, "and scratch up some seeds and worms. I tell you what we'll do: everything you scratch up you divide with me, and everything I scratch up I'll divide with you."
The dear little Hen agreed to this and off they went together to the garden.
The dear little Hen scratched and scratched and scratched and every time she scratched up a nice fat worm or a tasty seed she divided with the Rooster.
And the Rooster scratched and scratched and scratched and whenever the Hen saw him scratch up something good he divided with her. But once, when she wasn't looking, he scratched up a big grain of corn and without dividing it he tried to gobble it all himself. He gobbled it so fast that it stuck in his throat and choked him.
"Oh, dear little Hen!" he gasped. "I'm choking! Run quick and get me some water or I'll die!"
And with that he fell over on his back and his feet stuck straight up in the air.
The dear little Hen ran to the Well as fast as she could and all out of breath she gasped:
"Oh Well!
Give me
Some Water
For Rooster!
Choking!
In garden!
On back!
Feet up!
Oh dear!
He'll die!"
The Well said:
"If you want me to give you some Water, you must go to the Dressmaker and get me a Kerchief."
So the dear little Hen ran to the Dressmaker as fast as she could and all out of breath she gasped:
"Dressmaker!
Give me
Kerchief
For Well
For Water
For Rooster!
Choking!
In garden!
On back!
Feet up!
Oh dear!
He'll die!"
The Dressmaker said:
"If you want me to give you a Kerchief, you must go to the Shoemaker and get me a pair of Slippers."
So the dear little Hen ran to the Shoemaker as fast as she could and all out of breath she gasped:
"Shoemaker!
Give me
Slippers
For Dressmaker
For Kerchief
For Well
For Water
For Rooster!
Choking!
In garden!
On back!
Feet up!
Oh dear!
He'll die!"
The Shoemaker said:
"If you want me to give you a pair of Slippers, you must go to the Sow and get me some Bristles."
So the dear little Hen ran to the Sow as fast as she could and all out of breath she gasped:
"Oh Sow!
Give me
Some Bristles
For Shoemaker
For Slippers
For Dressmaker
For Kerchief
For Well
For Water
For Rooster!
Choking!
In garden!
On back!
Feet up!
Oh dear!
He'll die!"
The Sow said:
"If you want me to give you some Bristles, you must go to the Brewer and get me some Malt."
So the dear little Hen ran to the Brewer as fast as she could and all out of breath she gasped:
"Oh Brewer!
Give me
Some Malt
For Sow
For Bristles
For Shoemaker
For Slippers
For Dressmaker
For Kerchief
For Well
For Water
For Rooster!
Choking!
In garden!
On back!
Feet up!
Oh dear!
He'll die!"
The Brewer said:
"If you want me to give you some Malt, you must go to the Cow and get me some Cream."
So the dear little Hen ran to the Cow as fast as she could and all out of breath she gasped:
"Oh Cow!
Give me
Some Cream
For Brewer
For Malt
For Sow
For Bristles
For Shoemaker
For Slippers
For Dressmaker
For Kerchief
For Well
For Water
For Rooster!
Choking!
In garden!
On back!
Feet up!
Oh dear!
He'll die!"
The Cow said:
"If you want me to give you some Cream, you must go to the Meadow and get me some Grass."
So the dear little Hen ran to the Meadow as fast as she could and all out of breath she gasped:
"Oh Meadow!
Give me
Some Grass
For Cow
For Cream
For Brewer
For Malt
For Sow
For Bristles
For Shoemaker
For Slippers
For Dressmaker
For Kerchief
For Well
For Water
For Rooster!
Choking!
In garden!
On back!
Feet up!
Oh dear!
He'll die!"
The Meadow said:
"If you want me to give you some Grass, you must get me some Dew from the Sky."
So the dear little Hen looked up to the Sky and said:
"Oh Sky!
Dear Sky!
Give me
Some Dew
For Meadow
For Grass
For Cow
For Cream
For Brewer
For Malt
For Sow
For Bristles
For Shoemaker
For Slippers
For Dressmaker
For Kerchief
For Well
For Water
For Rooster!
Choking!
In garden!
On back!
Feet up!
Oh Dear!
He'll die!"
The Sky pitied the dear little Hen and at once gave her some Dew.
So the Hen gave the Meadow the Dew, and the Meadow gave the Hen some Grass.
The Hen gave the Cow the Grass, and the Cow gave the Hen some Cream.
The Hen gave the Brewer the Cream, and the Brewer gave the Hen some Malt.
The Hen gave the Sow the Malt, and the Sow gave the Hen some Bristles.
The Hen gave the Shoemaker the Bristles, and the Shoemaker gave the Hen a pair of Slippers.
The Hen gave the Dressmaker the Slippers, and the Dressmaker gave the Hen a Kerchief.
The Hen gave the Well the Kerchief, and the Well gave the Hen some Water.
The Hen gave the Rooster the Water, the Water washed down the grain of corn, and thereupon the Rooster jumped up, flapped his wings, and merrily crowed:
"Cockadoodledoo!"
And after that he never again tried to cheat the dear little Hen but always whenever he scratched up a nice fat worm or a tasty seed he divided with her.
THE DISOBEDIENT ROOSTER
THE STORY OF ANOTHER LITTLE HEN
THE DISOBEDIENT ROOSTER
There were once a Rooster and a Hen who were very good friends. They always went about together like brother and sister.
The Rooster was headstrong and thoughtless and often did foolish things. The little Hen was very sensible and always looked after the Rooster as well as she could.
Whenever he began doing something foolish, she always said:
"Oh, my dear, you mustn't do that!"
If the Rooster had always obeyed the little Hen he would be alive to this day. But, as I have told you, he was careless and headstrong and often he refused to take the little Hen's advice.
One day in the spring he ran into the garden and just gorged and gorged on green gooseberries.
"Oh, my dear!" the little Hen cried. "You mustn't eat green gooseberries! Don't you know they'll give you a pain in your stomach!"
But the Rooster wouldn't listen. He just kept on eating gooseberry after gooseberry until at last he got a terrible pain in his stomach and then he had to stop.
"Little Hen," he cried, "help me! Oh, my stomach! Oh! Oh!"
He was so sick that the little Hen had to give him some hot peppermint and put a mustard plaster on his stomach.
After that shouldn't you suppose he would do what she told him? But he didn't. As soon as he was well he was just as careless and disobedient as before.
One day he went out to the meadow and he just ran and ran and ran until he got all overheated and perspired. Then he went down to the brook and began drinking cold water.
"Oh, my dear," the little Hen cried, "you mustn't drink cold water while you're overheated! Wait and cool off!"
But would the Rooster wait and cool off? No! He just drank that cold water and drank it until he could drink no more.
Then he got a chill and the poor little Hen had to drag him home and put him to bed and run for the Doctor.
The Doctor gave him bitter medicine and he didn't get well for a long time. In fact it was winter before he got out of the house again.
Now shouldn't you suppose that after all this the Rooster would never again disobey the little Hen? If only he had he would be alive to this day. Listen, now, to what happened:
One morning when he got up, he saw that ice was beginning to form on the river.
"Goody! Goody!" he cried. "Now I can go sliding on the ice!"
"Oh, my dear," the little Hen said, "you mustn't go sliding on the ice yet! It's dangerous! Wait a few days until it's frozen harder and then go sliding."
But would the Rooster listen to the little Hen? No! He just insisted on running out that very moment and sliding on the thin ice.
And do you know what happened?
The ice broke and he fell in the river and, before the little Hen could get help, he was drowned!
And it was all his own fault, too, for the little Hen had begged him to wait until the ice was safer.
THE NICKERMAN'S WIFE
THE STORY OF LIDUSHKA AND THE IMPRISONED DOVES
THE NICKERMAN'S WIFE
There was once a young housewife named Lidushka. One day while she was washing clothes in the river a great frog, all bloated and ugly, swam up to her. Lidushka jumped back in fright. The frog spread itself out on the water, just where Lidushka had been rinsing her clothes, and sat there working its jaws as if it wanted to say something.
"Shoo!" Lidushka cried, but the frog stayed where it was and kept on working its jaws.
"You ugly old bloated thing! What do you want and why do you sit there gaping at me?"
Lidushka struck at the frog with a piece of linen to drive it off so that she could go on with her work. The frog dived, came up at another place, and at once swam back to Lidushka.
Lidushka tried again and again to drive it away. Each time she struck at it, the frog dived, came up at another place, and then swam back. At last Lidushka lost all patience.
"Go away, you old fat thing!" she screamed. "I have to finish my wash! Go away, I tell you, and when your babies come I'll be their godmother! Do you hear?"
As if it accepted this as a promise, the frog croaked: "All right! All right! All right!" and swam off.
Some time after this, when Lidushka was again doing her washing at the river, the same old frog appeared not looking now so fat and bloated.
"Come! Come, my dear!" it croaked. "You remember your promise! You said you'd be godmother to my babies. You must come with me now for we're having the christening today."
Lidushka, of course, had spoken jokingly, but even so a promise is a promise and must not be broken.
"But, you foolish frog," she said, "how can I be godmother to your babies? I can't go down in the water."
"Yes, you can!" the old frog croaked. "Come on! Come on! Come with me!"
It began swimming upstream and Lidushka followed, walking along the shore and feeling every moment more frightened.
The old frog swam on until it reached the mill-dam. Then it said to Lidushka:
"Now, my dear, don't be afraid! Don't be afraid! Just lift that stone in front of you. Under it you'll find a flight of stairs that lead straight down to my house. I'll go on ahead. Do as I say and you can't miss the way."
The frog disappeared in the water and Lidushka lifted the stone. Sure enough there was a flight of stairs going down under the mill-dam. And what kind of stairs do you suppose they were? They were not made of wood or stone but of great solid blocks of water, laid one on another, transparent and clear as crystal.
Lidushka timidly went down one step, then another, and another, until halfway down she was met by the old frog who welcomed her with many noisy croaks.
"This way, dear godmother! This way! Don't be afraid! Don't be afraid!"
Lidushka picked up courage and took the remaining stairs more bravely. The frog then led her to its house which, like the stairs, was built of beautiful crystal water, sparkling and transparent.
Inside everything was in readiness for the christening. Lidushka at once took the baby frogs in her arms and held them during the ceremony.
After the christening came a mighty feast to which many frogs from near and far had been invited. The old frog presented them all to Lidushka and they made much ado over her, hopping about her and croaking out noisy compliments.
Fish course after fish course was served – nothing but fish, prepared in every possible manner: boiled and broiled and fried and pickled. And there was every possible kind of fish: the finest carp and pike and mullet and trout and whiting and perch and many more of which Lidushka didn't even know the names.
When she had eaten all she could, Lidushka slipped away from the other guests and wandered off alone through the house.
She opened by chance a door that led into a sort of pantry. It was lined with long shelves and on the shelves were rows and rows of little earthenware pots all turned upside down. It seemed strange to Lidushka that they should all be upside down and she wondered why.
She lifted one pot up and under it she found a lovely white dove. The dove, happy at being released, shook out its plumage, spread its wings, and flew away.
Lidushka lifted a second pot and under it there was another lovely dove which at once spread its fluttering wings and flew off as happy as its fellow.
Lidushka lifted up a third pot and there was a third dove.
"There must be doves under all these pots!" she told herself. "What cruel creature has imprisoned them, I wonder? As the dear God has given man a soul to live forever, so He has given the birds wings to fly, and He never intended them to be imprisoned under dark pots. Wait, dear doves, and I'll set you all free!"
So Lidushka lifted pot after pot and from under every one of them an imprisoned dove escaped and flew joyously away.
Just as she had lifted the last pot, the old frog came hopping in to her in great excitement.
"Oh, my dear, my dear!" she croaked. "What have you done setting free all those souls! Quick and get you a lump of dry earth or a piece of toasted bread or my husband will catch you and take your soul! Here he comes now!"
Lidushka looked up through the crystal walls of the house but could see no one coming. Then in the distance she saw some beautiful bright red streamers floating towards her on the top of the water. They came nearer and nearer.
"Oh!" she thought to herself in sudden fright. "Those must be the red streamers of a nickerman!"
Instantly she remembered the stories her grandmother used to tell her when she was a child, how the wicked nickerman lured people to their death with bright red streamers. Many an innocent maid, haying along the river, has seen the lovely streamers in the water and reached after them with her rake. That is what the nickerman wants her to do for then he can catch her and drag her down, down, down, under the water where he drowns her and takes her soul. The nickerman is so powerful that, if once he gets you, he can drown you in a teaspoon of water! But if you clutch in your hand a clod of dry earth or a piece of toasted bread, then he is powerless to harm you.
"Oh!" Lidushka cried. "Now I understand! Those white doves were the souls of poor innocents whom this wicked nickerman has drowned! God help me to escape him!"
"Hurry, my dear, hurry!" the old frog croaked. "Run up the crystal stairs and replace the stone!"
Lidushka flew up the stairs and as she reached the top she clutched a handful of dry earth. Then she replaced the stone and the water flowed over the stairs.
The nickerman spread out his red streamers close to the shore and tried to catch her, but she was not to be tempted.
"I know who you are!" she cried, holding tight her handful of dry earth. "You'll never get my soul! And you'll never again imprison under your black pots all the poor innocent souls I liberated!"
Years afterwards when Lidushka had children of her own, she used to tell them this story and say to them:
"And now, my dears, you know why it is dangerous to reach out in the water for a red streamer or a pretty water lily. The wicked nickerman may be there just waiting to catch you."
BATCHA AND THE DRAGON
THE STORY OF A SHEPHERD WHO SLEPT ALL WINTER
BATCHA AND THE DRAGON
Once upon a time there was a shepherd who was called Batcha. During the summer he pastured his flocks high up on the mountain where he had a little hut and a sheepfold.
One day in autumn while he was lying on the ground, idly blowing his pipes, he chanced to look down the mountain slope. There he saw a most amazing sight. A great army of snakes, hundreds and hundreds in number, was slowly crawling to a rocky cliff not far from where he was lying.
When they reached the cliff, every serpent bit off a leaf from a plant that was growing there. They then touched the cliff with the leaves and the rock opened. One by one they crawled inside. When the last one had disappeared, the rock closed.
Batcha blinked his eyes in bewilderment.
"What can this mean?" he asked himself. "Where are they gone? I think I'll have to climb up there myself and see what that plant is. I wonder will the rock open for me?"
He whistled to Dunay, his dog, and left him in charge of the sheep. Then he made his way over to the cliff and examined the mysterious plant. It was something he had never seen before.
He picked a leaf and touched the cliff in the same place where the serpents had touched it. Instantly the rock opened.
Batcha stepped inside. He found himself in a huge cavern the walls of which glittered with gold and silver and precious stones. A golden table stood in the center and upon it a monster serpent, a very king of serpents, lay coiled up fast asleep. The other serpents, hundreds and hundreds of them, lay on the ground around the table. They also were fast asleep. As Batcha walked about, not one of them stirred.
Batcha sauntered here and there examining the walls and the golden table and the sleeping serpents. When he had seen everything he thought to himself:
"It's very strange and interesting and all that, but now it's time for me to get back to my sheep."
It's easy to say: "Now I'm going," but when Batcha tried to go he found he couldn't, for the rock had closed. So there he was locked in with the serpents.
He was a philosophical fellow and so, after puzzling a moment, he shrugged his shoulders and said:
"Well, if I can't get out I suppose I'll have to stay here for the night."
With that he drew his cape about him, lay down, and was soon fast asleep.
He was awakened by a rustling murmur. Thinking that he was in his own hut, he sat up and rubbed his eyes. Then he saw the glittering walls of the cavern and remembered his adventure.
The old king serpent still lay on the golden table but no longer asleep. A movement like a slow wave was rippling his great coils. All the other serpents on the ground were facing the golden table and with darting tongues were hissing:
"Is it time? Is it time?"
The old king serpent slowly lifted his head and with a deep murmurous hiss said:
"Yes, it is time."
He stretched out his long body, slipped off the golden table, and glided away to the wall of the cavern. All the smaller serpents wriggled after him.
Batcha followed them, thinking to himself:
"I'll go out the way they go."
The old king serpent touched the wall with his tongue and the rock opened. Then he glided aside and the serpents crawled out, one by one. When the last one was out, Batcha tried to follow, but the rock swung shut in his face, again locking him in.
The old king serpent hissed at him in a deep breathy voice:
"Hah, you miserable man creature, you can't get out! You're here and here you stay!"
"But I can't stay here," Batcha said. "What can I do in here? I can't sleep forever! You must let me out! I have sheep at pasture and a scolding wife at home in the valley. She'll have a thing or two to say if I'm late in getting back!"
Batcha pleaded and argued until at last the old serpent said:
"Very well, I'll let you out, but not until you have made me a triple oath that you won't tell any one how you came in."
Batcha agreed to this. Three times he swore a mighty oath not to tell any one how he had entered the cavern.
"I warn you," the old serpent said, as he opened the wall, "if you break this oath a terrible fate will overtake you!"
Without another word Batcha hurried through the opening.
Once outside he looked about him in surprise. Everything seemed changed. It was autumn when he had followed the serpents into the cavern. Now it was spring!
"What has happened?" he cried in fright. "Oh, what an unfortunate fellow I am! Have I slept through the winter? Where are my sheep? And my wife – what will she say?"
With trembling knees he made his way to his hut. His wife was busy inside. He could see her through the open door. He didn't know what to say to her at first, so he slipped into the sheepfold and hid himself while he tried to think out some likely story.
While he was crouching there, he saw a finely dressed gentleman come to the door of the hut and ask his wife where her husband was.
The woman burst into tears and explained to the stranger that one day in the previous autumn her husband had taken out his sheep as usual and had never come back.
"Dunay, the dog," she said, "drove home the sheep and from that day to this nothing has ever been heard of my poor husband. I suppose a wolf devoured him, or the witches caught him and tore him to pieces and scattered him over the mountain. And here I am left, a poor forsaken widow! Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!"
Her grief was so great that Batcha leaped out of the sheepfold to comfort her.
"There, there, dear wife, don't cry! Here I am, alive and well! No wolf ate me, no witches caught me. I've been asleep in the sheepfold – that's all. I must have slept all winter long!"
At sight and sound of her husband, the woman stopped crying. Her grief changed to surprise, then to fury.
"You wretch!" she cried. "You lazy, good-for-nothing loafer! A nice kind of shepherd you are to desert your sheep and yourself to idle away the winter sleeping like a serpent! That's a fine story, isn't it, and I suppose you think me fool enough to believe it! Oh, you – you sheep's tick, where have you been and what have you been doing?"
She flew at Batcha with both hands and there's no telling what she would have done to him if the stranger hadn't interfered.
"There, there," he said, "no use getting excited! Of course he hasn't been sleeping here in the sheepfold all winter. The question is, where has he been? Here is some money for you. Take it and go along home to your cottage in the valley. Leave Batcha to me and I promise you I'll get the truth out of him."
The woman abused her husband some more and then, pocketing the money, went off.
As soon as she was gone, the stranger changed into a horrible looking creature with a third eye in the middle of his forehead.
"Good heavens!" Batcha gasped in fright. "He's the wizard of the mountain! Now what's going to happen to me!"
Batcha had often heard terrifying stories of the wizard, how he could himself take any form he wished and how he could turn a man into a ram.
"Aha!" the wizard laughed. "I see you know me! Now then, no more lies! Tell me: where have you been all winter long?"
At first Batcha remembered his triple oath to the old king serpent and he feared to break it. But when the wizard thundered out the same question a second time and a third time, and grew bigger and more horrible looking each time he spoke, Batcha forgot his oath and confessed everything.
"Now come with me," the wizard said. "Show me the cliff. Show me the magic plant."
What could Batcha do but obey? He led the wizard to the cliff and picked a leaf of the magic plant.
"Open the rock," the wizard commanded.
Batcha laid the leaf against the cliff and instantly the rock opened.
"Go inside!" the wizard ordered.
But Batcha's trembling legs refused to move.
The wizard took out a book and began mumbling an incantation. Suddenly the earth trembled, the sky thundered, and with a great hissing whistling sound a monster dragon flew out of the cavern. It was the old king serpent whose seven years were up and who was now become a flying dragon. From his huge mouth he breathed out fire and smoke. With his long tail he swished right and left among the forest trees and these snapped and broke like little twigs.
The wizard, still mumbling from his book, handed Batcha a bridle.
"Throw this around his neck!" he commanded.
Batcha took the bridle but was too terrified to act. The wizard spoke again and Batcha made one uncertain step in the dragon's direction. He lifted his arm to throw the bridle over the dragon's head, when the dragon suddenly turned on him, swooped under him, and before Batcha knew what was happening he found himself on the dragon's back and he felt himself being lifted up, up, up, above the tops of the forest trees, above the very mountains themselves.
For a moment the sky was so dark that only the fire, spurting from the dragon's eyes and mouth, lighted them on their way.
The dragon lashed this way and that in fury, he belched forth great floods of boiling water, he hissed, he roared, until Batcha, clinging to his back, was half dead with fright.
Then gradually his anger cooled. He ceased belching forth boiling water, he stopped breathing fire, his hisses grew less terrifying.
"Thank God!" Batcha gasped. "Perhaps now he'll sink to earth and let me go."
But the dragon was not yet finished with punishing Batcha for breaking his oath. He rose still higher until the mountains of the earth looked like tiny ant-hills, still up until even these had disappeared. On, on they went, whizzing through the stars of heaven.
At last the dragon stopped flying and hung motionless in the firmament. To Batcha this was even more terrifying than moving.
"What shall I do? What shall I do?" he wept in agony. "If I jump down to earth I'll kill myself and I can't fly on up to heaven! Oh, dragon, have mercy on me! Fly back to earth and let me go and I swear before God that never again until death will I offend you!"
Batcha's pleading would have moved a stone to pity but the dragon, with an angry shake of his tail, only hardened his heart.
Suddenly Batcha heard the sweet voice of the skylark that was mounting to heaven.
"Skylark!" he called. "Dear skylark, bird that God loves, help me, for I am in great trouble! Fly up to heaven and tell God Almighty that Batcha, the shepherd, is hung in midair on a dragon's back. Tell Him that Batcha praises Him forever and begs Him to deliver him."
The skylark carried this message to heaven and God Almighty, pitying the poor shepherd, took some birch leaves and wrote on them in letters of gold. He put them in the skylark's bill and told the skylark to drop them on the dragon's head.
So the skylark returned from heaven and, hovering over Batcha, dropped the birch leaves on the dragon's head.
The dragon instantly sank to earth, so fast that Batcha lost consciousness.
When he came to himself he was sitting before his own hut. He looked about him. The dragon's cliff had disappeared. Otherwise everything was the same.
It was late afternoon and Dunay, the dog, was driving home the sheep. There was a woman coming up the mountain path.
Batcha heaved a great sigh.
"Thank God I'm back!" he said to himself. "How fine it is to hear Dunay's bark! And here comes my wife, God bless her! She'll scold me, I know, but even if she does, how glad I am to see her!"
