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The Adviser
A Turkmen folk tale

But when we in reality perceived a body of Turcomans coming down upon us, the scene instantly changed. Some ran away; others, and among them my master, losing all their energies, yielded to intense fear, and began to exclaim, “Oh Allah! – Oh Imams! – Oh Mohammed the prophet; we are gone! We are dying! we are dead!”

The Adventures of Hajji Baba of Ispahan, by James Morier

One day, having returned from hunting, Padishah (king of kings) Sultansoyun and his vizier Mirali met a young woman in a village. The king stopped dead, struck by her breathtaking beauty, and only his eyes long followed her.

“You are my supreme vizier,” he said confidentially. “So, you have to understand my feelings and help me. How could I get this beauty?”

“It’s impossible, – she has a husband!” Mirali replied firmly (Mirali was born in a poor family and had never forgotten about it).

“She stole my heart, and my life will be nothing without her!”

“Anyway, My Lord, dismiss this whim from your mind. What does Sharia say? Don’t you know, that it is prohibited to mess about with married women? All the faithful will despise you!”

“Well, if so, I can reach my goal without you, by hook or by crook!” replied the sovereign heatedly. “And you, the mortal, go to her husband and offer him your service as an adviser!”

Sultansoyun was in a severe outbreak of passion. He did not go further to his palace, but stayed in the house of a rich Bai (landowner) and sent him for the husband of that beautiful woman.

Mirali went the same way at a rapid pace, having said Padishah that he wanted to visit a friend who lived in that village. He first came to the husband of the woman, who was just a poor peasant, and warned him, that Padishah will probably summon him and give him a tricky assignment. He also said that it is impossible to refuse the order and that he, Mirali, would help him to carry out this mandate.

The supreme vizier had well known his Master! Everything happened as he had predicted. After him, there came a breathless landowner. He stopped in front of the husband and gave him the order to appear before Padishah. With great respect, the man hastened to execute orders of the almighty Padishah…

“What is your name?” Sultansoyun asked the peasant.

“Karakuduke,” replied the man.

“Karakuduke? Excellent! So, Karakuduke, I used to be curious about people wherever I go, and to give them some unusual assignments. If a man carried out my task, then I would reward him; if he couldn’t or not very keen on it, – I would punish him. You are the most extraordinary man in this village. You have a strange name, uncommon face, and maybe there is something else, that is not the same as everyone has, eh?”

“I am an ordinary dehkaneen (peasant), but this is a rare thing and great happiness – to serve Almighty Padishah,” replied the poor man respectfully. “I will do everything that you are pleased to suggest!”

“It’s wonderful! I’ll give you a stallion, a couple of bulls, and a dozen of rams. Exactly six months later, you should get a litter from each of them!”

Karakuduke bent into a bow in consent. But someone shouted from the crowd of spectators:

“Wai, you have lost your head, a miserable! Is it possible to obtain an offspring from a male?”

“Padishah is a Vicar of God on Earth. If he believes that males can give an offspring, then let it be!” replied the peasant.

…Six months passed there, and Padishah and his vizier paid a visit to that village again. Padishah stayed in the house of the same Bai, and Mirali, having asked for permission to visit his friend, went to Karakuduke and introduced the spouses into his plan, because nothing had happened with the presented livestock.

Mirali barely had time to get away from that house, as Padishah sent a man for Karakuduke. The messenger returned then to Padishah and reported him that the peasant could not appear before the eyes of the sovereign, because he was ill.

“Let his wife come here,” said the Father of the Faithful.

The poor woman came to the house of Bai and confirmed that her husband fell ill.

“What has happened to him?” asked Padishah.

“He is giving birth to a child, – there started contractions,” said the woman.

Sultansoyun laughed:

“How could it happen that a man bears children?”

“Oh, Gracious Padishah,” the woman said innocently, “If a bull is able to calve, a stallion – to foal, a ram – to lamb, why can’t my husband give birth to a child?”

Padishah was surprised and annoyed, but he had nothing to argue. He smiled at the beautiful woman and let her go in peace. Then he shook his finger at Mirali:

“I see, – it couldn’t happen without you!”

“I just fulfilled a desire of Your Majesty,” said Mirali with downcast eyes.

“My desire?!”

“If you remember, you had said, “Whereas you are not able to help me, go to the husband of the beauty and offer him your service as an adviser!”

The Angry Landlord
A Vologda region folk tale

The main routes for their ships being the great rivers of the north, such as the Sukhona, which flows 300 miles to the north-east before joining the Vychegda to form the Northern Dvina. Because the low watershed at White Lake (Beloye ozero) was the door to the whole north-western region, the Novgoroders” name for these lands was Zavolochye – “beyond the portage”, from the Russian word volok (portage).

A History of the Peoples of Siberia, by James Forsyth

In the old days there lived a landlord with his wife in his ancestral manor. The landlord was keen on hunting and kept purebred dogs and horses. He was a man of character and no one could carry out his directives and commands as he had hoped. Therefore he was usually so angry that all peasants and servants were afraid of him and lived in fear and trembling.

One day he went to the town on commercial matters, and in the evening he visited a private club to drink some vodka with his friends. There was a large gathering of men to play cards. The angry landlord was lucky and won an estate from a wealthy merchant.

Straight from the town he went to his new house in the countryside and stayed there for a while to arrange economic affairs. His wife at that time remained as a hostess in his patrimony. The gentleman lingered for a few weeks in his new place, and in the meantime some trouble had occurred in his old house.

There was an urgent need to tell the landlord what had happened, but no one dared to do that. However, there lived a simple-minded bloke, Stepan, in that village, and the villagers persuaded him to go to their master.

“Well, if you want, I will go!” replied Stepan.

About three days the poor man went on foot to the new estate. When he got there, hungry and tired, the angry landlord having seen him from afar, unleashed the dogs on him, just out of boredom. The dogs rushed to Stepan but he gave them some bread and they let him alone. Stepan came into the house, bowed to his master and said:

“Good morning, sir!”

“Hey, what do you want? What’s the word on my wife?”

“There is almost nothing new at home, just I broke a knife the other day.”

“What is it about the knife?”

“We were just going to skin your hound. But when we started, the blade of my knife broke into pieces!”

“Which hound? What are you babbling about, you, scoundrel?”

“It was that dog, with which you used to go hunting. When you had bought her from the previous owner, you gave three serfs for her!”

“What are you clapping about, wicked liar? So, you mean that my best hound died, but why?”

“She ate too much horseflesh, – meat of your stallion!”

“Damn it all! Oh no, has my stallion died?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What a misfortune, I’m awfully sorry! Why did he die?”

“He probably busted a gut.”

“But what was the matter, he was hard working or you drove him too hard?”

“No, sir, it did not go, he stood in the stall!”

“And what happened?”

“Then your farm agent made him carry water.”

“But why was water needed?”

“Well, when your pigsty caught fire, the farm agent made him carry water to put out the fire.”

“What on earth do you mean, my pigsty has burnt down?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Why has it burnt down?”

“You see, sir, it was standing near your cowshed, and likely it caught a fire from the cowshed.”

“That is my cowshed has also burnt down?”

“It burned down like a candle, sir!”

“But why did it catch fire?”

“I don’t know that for sure, sir, whether it caught fire on its own or the fire spread from your house.”

“Do you mean that my house has also burned down?”

“Your house burned out completely, sir, disappeared without a trace!”

“Has my homestead burned out too?”

“Everything has gone to blazes. All the cattle have died off. There is an open field there, – it’s nice to sow grain!”

The host squeezed his head with his hands and began to wail…

“But why did the house catch fire?” asked then the landlord.

“It took fire from a candle, sir.”

“And what did they light the candle for?”

“What for, sir? As always, sir, candles should be lit if someone died!”

“But who died there, bloody hell?”

“Holy God, let her easily live in the other world! Your wife has passed away.”

“What… Come again? My wife has died, but why?”

“She had got some disease and then passed away.”

“Oh, my God… What kind of disease?” asked the angry landlord.

“I don’t know, sir, I’m not a doctor!” replied Stepan…

The Cock-And-Bull Story
An Abkhazian folk tale

Abkhazians call themselves Apswa (plural Apswaa) … Christianity arrived two centuries before its official introduction under Justinian sixth century. Sunni Islam spread with Ottoman Turkish influence from around 1500. Traditional paganism has never entirely disappeared, making adherence to either major religion relatively superficial, although within Abkhazia most Abkhazians are nominally Christian.

Encyclopedia of Russian History, editor in chief James Millar

When I was a young man, I had many herds of horses. They grazed freely on the seashore. One day I walked along the beach to drive my herds home. Having come to the place, I looked about, searching for the horses, but did not find them. Then I stuck a staff into the ground, stood up on the staff, looked around again and saw my horses over the hills and far away. I rushed there like a bird on the wing, put them together and drove them home.

On the way home, a grey mare relaxed her course, stopped running and foaled. A newborn foal could not follow my herds, and I could not leave the kid to its fate. I mounted the mare, placed the foal over her neck, but she was not able to get up and carry us. Then I took off the foal, saddled it up, put the mare on its neck and hit the road on the foal’s back. We raced like the wind!

By the end of the day, my horses got tired and thirsty. I drove them down to the sea and was about to water my herds, but what in hell was that? The sea was covered with ice! I threw a large stone down, trying to break the ice, but it did not help. I pushed a heavy rock to the ice, but it did not work. I left no stone unturned but could do nothing! Then I got angry, took a run and bashed my head against the ice – and it flew into pieces like glass!

I watered my horses, sat astride the foal, took the mare upon him and rode away. I was riding for a while but suddenly saw a beautiful girl, sitting on a balcony of a magnificent tower, playing an achamgure (a three-stringed instrument similar to a lute) and singing for me:

 
“How handsome
is this stranger!
I fell in love with him
at the first glance.
I would marry him,
if he had a head!”
 

I was very happy, although did not realize her allegory. However, when I passed my hand over the head, I noticed then that I had no head! Oh my God, it looked like I had left my head on the beach! I bowed the girl, turned back, rode to the sea, then I cast a glance at the seashore – my head was lying there.

But what the hell had happened to it? It was frozen into ice! I began to pull my head, but I could not drag it out of the ice. There was a herd of livestock grazing nearby. I hitched my head to a couple of buffalo and a couple of horses, but they were not able to pull my head off.

Thus, there I was standing not knowing what to do… But suddenly I saw two wasps. I caught them, yoked them and forced to pull my head. They pulled the traces, the ice cracked, and the wasps dragged out my head to the beach. I put the head on my shoulders, mounted the foal, placed the mare on its neck and rode away.

On the way home, I saw a rabbit that had never been born, sitting at a nut bush that had never been growing. I pulled out a gun without a trigger. I fired without aiming. I killed a rabbit without a shot. I picked up the rabbit, strapped it to the saddle and went on.

In my path, I met a man. He bowed his head, welcoming me, and said:

“Hey, old chap, let your mother feel happy! What can you gave me, if I tell you something joyful?”

“If you tell me something joyful, I’ll give you a rabbit.”

“Very well, your father was born today!” he said.

I was so delighted that gave him my rabbit.

I came home, entered the room and saw – there was my father, lying in a cradle and screaming. I took him in my arms. What a good baby boy! Of great joy, I presented my father that mare, which I had brought riding on the foal.

Since then we lived happily ever after.

The Gift of the Black Demon
A Polish folk tale

Relations between Poles and Russians have never been easy. Despite their close linguistic and ethnic ties, differences rather than similarities characterize the relationship between them. In religious denomination, political tradition, worldview, even the alphabets in which they write their related languages, Poles and Russians are clearly distinct.

Encyclopedia of Russian History, editor in chief James Millar

Once upon a time there was a poor farmer in a village. He had a wife and many children. He tried to do everything to the best of his ability, but could not keep his family. That is why his neighbours used to call him Jonah the Needy. The man inherited a piece of land from his father but it was useless. There was swamp on the left, sand on the right, and only a narrow strip of proper land in the middle, all covered with pits and stones. He had to be patient and to give up hope for the better.

One day Jonah the Needy went to plough his field and took the last loaf of bread with him. The day had already half gone but the man was ploughing and ploughing. He was so tired that his stomach cramped from hunger. He had to relax and eat some bread that was hidden under his shirt. The man turned his bulls loose to graze on grass, sat down at the edge of the field, untied the linen cloth, looked at the loaf of bread and thought things over.

He was a good, hard-working fellow, he loved his wife and children with all his heart, and he had been dragging out a miserable existence for them. He looked at the bread for a while, then wrapped the bread up and, with a heavy sigh, put the bundle under a bush.

“Yeah, I’m tired, of course, but I would rather hang on, till all the work is finished, and eat before going home. Then I can do without dinner at home – my wife and children will have more to eat,” he thought and resumed his work.

Meanwhile a Demon came out of the woods and hid behind a bush of dog rose. He saw a man and tried to figure out how to make fun of him. As soon as the man took hold of the plough – the Demon stole the bread from the bundle and ate it up. Then he hid behind the bush waiting for more – what would happen next, when the man could not find his bread in place.

For a long time Jonah the Needy suffered from persistent hunger, finally he could not bear it any longer.

“I am a living man,” he thought and went to the bundle. He untied it but there was nothing there, not even a crumb of bread.

“What a wonder,” was surprised the poor man. “No one has been here yet but someone still stole the bread. He must also be a hungry man. Let him eat for his health – I won’t die of hunger for one day. For the sake of God, I should cast my bread upon the waters.”

The man crossed himself, made a prayer and continued to plough the field until the evening.

“It’s a bad job altogether,” the Demon muttered under his breath and gritted his teeth. “I stole his last piece of bread! Lo and behold – he did not even swear, did not ruin his soul, but kept his fingers crossed for me!”

The Demon fell into terrible rage and sank through the ground into the belly of hell. He appeared before the Great Devil and told him everything that had happened.

“Hell, you made a big mistake!” said the Devil. “We are demons and should do evil to all people, but we must do so with conscience, because the Almighty lays the blame on the right shoulders for atrocities. Do evil to a bad man – it serves him right, he deserves it, but to steal the last piece of bread from an honest man – that is a shameful thing! Furthermore, you had gobbled up the farmer’s bread, but bread is the gift of God – demons are not allowed to eat bread. Therefore, I impose penance on you! This very hour, go to Jonah the Needy and serve him as a labourer for seven years – for the evil you had caused him!”

When the Demon heard the Devil’s verdict, he hunched like a wet hen, but he could do nothing!

He pretended to be a homeless wanderer, came to Jonah the Needy and asked for a job. The man told him:

“How can I keep a worker? I’m myself almost dying of hunger!”

The Demon explained his idea:

“I’m a poor man, and so are you. Let us act together and do all the work – all for one. I have no wife, no kids; I have almost a new fur coat and a nice shirt on me. I can make bast shoes from a lime tree at any time. I have no need to roam about fairs, so I don’t need any payment from you: a coin is round – it will roll out of the pocket sooner or later. I hope you will share with me just a piece of bread.”

He was begging so hard that the man even got a little scared. Somehow or other, the Demon stayed at the farmer’s house. He began working as a farm labourer and was so busy getting his hooks on the new master that all the villagers were surprised.

At first, the Demon set to work on the horse – all day long he was cleaning him with a new brush, feeding him with selected oats, watering him with spring water. In less than a week, the farmer could hardly recognize the horse: his sides rounded, his skin gleamed and his mane waved by the wind. The horse began to work all day long without getting tired. As soon as the labourer had brought the horse in order, he went to a cow.

Every day he himself took the cow to graze, chose good places with lush grass, protected her from flies, watered her with pure water. When the cow returned home from the pasture, her udder was as big as a bucket. The farmer’s children began to drink plenty of milk and to eat their soup with sour cream and their bread with butter. The wife had no complaints about the man, and the children were not crying, but Jonah the Needy suddenly felt sick at heart. Neither he nor the villagers could understand where all this had come from?

The Demon worked without ceasing: as soon as he had finished with household chores, he went to the field. In one day, he fertilized the entire field with manure, ploughed the land, and sowed wheat. The crops grew up as a thick forest and Jonah the Needy gathered in an unthinkable harvest. The villagers were looking in wonder at the poor man:

“Have you ever seen the likes of this? He has a full granary!”

The next year the Demon said:

“Man, let’s plough the swamp this year. I believe that the summer will be dry. This warm weather should bring good crops!”

The labourer began to plough the swamp, and the land dried up just after the plough, as though it was in an oven. He sowed wheat in the harrowed marsh, and crops were very good that year! At the beginning, the neighbours looked on and laughed at the bumpkin, that was throwing his grain in the dirt. But when Jonah the Needy brought the profuse harvest, they grew quiet and decided to do the same.

The following summer, the folks rushed to plough the swamp and sow wheat, but the man was doing everything on his farm the other way round. The labourer said to his master:

“From all appearances there should be a rainy summer. Let’s plough a sandy wasteland, and let the neighbours dig muddy ground!”

The Demon chose the sands on rising ground where nothing had grown before. He ploughed the land and sowed the wheat. Right afterward, there fell thick rain and all the grain in the lowlands began rotting. The villagers barely reaped any of the wheat, having sown in the plains. Again Jonah the Needy did not know what to do with his harvest.

To cut a long story short, the man became rich, he paid a wage to the labourer and lived as cool as a cucumber. But the Demon was not so delighted and thought:

“Well, I have more than paid for the loaf of bread that I had stolen. My master lives like a fighting cock, and it’s the right time to say goodbye to him. So it would be a good thing to play a dirty trick on the man – to round the ‘evening’ off!”

And then he said to the farmer:

“Look, man, there is a stock of wheat here in abundance. What should we do with it?”

“What do you mean – ‘what should we do’? We would eat for health, give alms to the poor, we could donate help to a hospital, or give loans to those who have lost crops. And let the rest be stored for a rainy day! There may come a bad year,” said Jonah the Needy.

The Demon did not like these words, so he explained:

“It’s gonna be a devil of a nuisance – to keep the harvest in the granary! You must stir the grain once and again – to protect it from rotting, from spoiling by mice, and so on. I’ve got an idea and, if possible, this matter will bring us considerable profit, honour, and glory.”

“What’s the matter?” asked the man.

“The point is very simple. People are brewing beer from barley, and we would brew something from wheat – maybe this thing will pan out,” said the Demon.

“Well, try it yourself, if you like. It’s none of my business,” replied Jonah the Needy.

The Demon set to work: he procured boilers and vats, ground the corn and began to boil the wheat. There he was stirring the soup, adding hops from time to time. He made a drink pure as water, bitter and strong as mustard, burning the mouth like flame. The Demon began humming and dancing with joy, named the drink moonshine, poured it into large bottles, then poured some into a glass, put it on the table and cordially invited his master:

“Yeah, it’s all there, all that you need, – gilt-edged!”

Jonah the Needy sipped some drink from the glass, pulled his face and choked:

“Oh, it tastes a bit bitter! It burns the throat as if it was brewed by a demon!”

The Demon just smiled:

“It’s nothing! The more profound the drink, the more pleasure of drinking. Gulp down another glass! Don’t worry, it will not hurt you. It’s the same bread, just boiled.”

The man drank the second glass, and it seemed not to burn as badly as the first one.

“It’s bitter,” said the farmer, “but the heat spreads throughout the body. That’s a good job!”

The Demon poured him a third glass and sighed:

“See what happens next, let’s have another one!”

The master clinked with the labourer and drank the third glass in one gulp.

“Really, it’s not so bitter,” said Jonah the Needy. “It’s not bitter at all!”

“To say ‘not bitter’ means to say nothing,” said the Demon. “This tastes out of this world! Let’s have one more drink!”

The man himself moved up the glass.

“Oh cheers!” he said. “Indeed, it’s a very tasty drink, it makes me cheerful. Yea, I feel like a new man of hot blood, ten years younger – I’m walking on air! Oh dear, my woman won’t recognize me, that’s for sure!”

“Let’s pour a fifth glass – still enjoy it,” said the Demon.

“And a sixth glass, I think, would not hurt us!” cried Jonah the Needy.

“Viva moonshine!” yelled the drunken Demon and started dancing around the house.

“Wait a minute,” shouted the man trying to pour the sixth glass. “I would be dancing with you if the hut were not shaking somehow up and down.”

The Demon thought aloud:

“Yeah, pigs might fly! It looks like I’m in a belly of hell; your soul, man, is in my pocket; and the Great Devil, our Lord, bestowed me the title of Black Demon for my trick, which will lead endless crowds of human souls under our wings…”

The bottle fell down and broke into pieces. The farmer’s wife came running and their children were running behind her. They looked – their dad was dancing with the labourer. They began to laugh, and it was the first time, when their father become a laughingstock for his children. Only the wife did not laugh – she realized that her husband was out of his mind. The drunken men began squirming after a great merriment, and black tar was flowing from the Demon’s mouth.

The woman ran to a barber for assistance and brought him home. The booze fighters had collapsed in the same place, where they had done “a job”. One of them was sleeping under a bench, and the other – in a pig’s trough.

They had slept it off by the morning, got up, but could barely move – their eyes were weary and their heads were like heavy stones.

“No problem,” said the Demon. “Let us fight fire with fire – let’s have a drink!”

“Oh no, you must be joking!” moaned Jonah the Needy.

“You should drink in one go. We’ll take a cup of kindness for old long since!” said the Demon and drank a mug of moonshine. The man obeyed and drank after him.

“It’s true – I feel better. Now I got it, let’s have another drink! Call the neighbours – let people know that I am no longer Jonah the Needy!”

“Just a moment,” said the Demon, “the more, the merrier; let’s have a revel!”

Since then, the farmer became fond of the bottle. The wife had a lot to put up with living with a drunkard like him. In less than a year Jonah the Needy had died. His land and his house were sold for the debts. His kids were left in the rough and rocky lap of poverty. They had to ask for handouts and listen to spiteful words about their father…

A lot of water had flowed under the bridge since then, and vodka has spread among people – the gift of the Black Demon.