Baba Yaga by Fabiano Mello de Lima.

A digital sculpture by the

storyboard artist Fabiano Mello de Lima that desexes Baba Yaga. An
original feature is the pair of small hands protruding from the aperture
in the vehicular mortar on which she is seated, presumably belonging
to a captured child who will become Baba Yaga’s meal and end up as
a skull to be added either to Baga Yaga’s fence or to those dangling
from the mortar. Illustration by Fabiano Mello de Lima, Fabiano Lima

<[email protected]>.
The Wild Witch of the East in

Russian Fairy Tales

Introduction and Translations by Sibelan Forrester

Captions to Images by Helena Goscilo

Selection of Images by Martin Skoro and Helena Goscilo

Edited by Sibelan Forrester, Helena Goscilo, and Martin Skoro

Foreword by Jack Zipes

university press of mississippi jackson

www.upress.state.ms.us

The University Press of Mississippi is a member of the Association of

American

University Presses.

With Support and Assistance from The Museum of Russian Art, 5500
Stevens

Ave. S., Minneapolis, MN 55419, http://tmora.org

A good faith effort was made to identify all artists or copyright holders
of the

illustrations used.

Copyright © 2013 by University Press of Mississippi

All rights reserved

Manufactured in the United States of America

First printing 2013

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Baba Yaga : the wild witch of the East in Russian fairy tales /
introduction and transla-

tions by Sibelan Forrester ; captions to images by Helena Goscilo ;

selection of images

by Martin Skoro and Helena Goscilo ; edited by Sibelan Forrester,

Helena Goscilo,

and Martin Skoro ; foreword by Jack Zipes.

pages : illustrations ; cm

Includes bibliographical references.

ISBN 978-1-61703-596-8 (cloth : alkaline paper) — ISBN 978-1-

61703-778-8 (ebook)

1. Baba Yaga (Legendary character) 2. Tales—Russia. I. Forrester,

Sibelan E. S. (Sibelan

Elizabeth S.), translator, editor of compilation. II. Goscilo, Helena,

1945–, editor of

compilation. III. Skoro, Martin, editor of compilation. IV. Zipes, Jack,

1937–, writer of

added commentary.

GR75.B22B22 2013

398.20947—dc23 2013003373
British Library Cataloging-in-Publication Data available

CONTENTS

foreword: Unfathomable Baba Yagas, by Jack Zipes . . . . . . . . . . . . .

vii

preface, acknowledgments, and translator’s note . . . . . . . . xiii

introduction: Baba Yaga: The Wild Witch of the East . . . . . . . . . . xxi

brief bibliography for further reading . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . lii

Tales of Baba Yaga

“Baba Yaga I” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
....3

“Baba Yaga II” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

...5

“Baba Yaga and the Kid” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..9
“Baba-Yaga and the Runt” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . 14

“Finist the Bright Falcon II” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. 19

“Go I Don’t Know Where, Bring I Don’t Know What” . . . . . . . . . . . . 28

“Ivanushka” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . 45

“Mar’ia Morevna” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . 50

“Moon and Star” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . 60

“Prince Danila-Govorila” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . 67

“Prince Ivan and Beloy Polyanin” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . 72

Illustration by Ivan Bilibin

(1876–1942).

“The Bear Tsar” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . 79

Contents

“The Bogatyrs Soska, Usynia, Gorynia, and Duginia” . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. 85

“The Brother” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . 89
“The Daughter-in-Law” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . 93

“The Enchanted Princess” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . 95

“The Feather of Finist the Bright Falcon” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. 102

“The Firebird” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . 110

“The Frog and the Bogatyr” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . 116

“The Frog Princess” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . 123

“The Geese and Swans” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . 128

“The Stepdaughter and the Stepmother’s Daughter”. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. 132

“The Tale of the Daring Young Man and the Apples of Youth” . . . . . .
135

“The Tale of the Fine Young Man and the Apples of Youth” . . . . . . . .
140

“The Tale of the Fine Young Man and the Apples of Youth II” . . . . . .
145

“The Three Kingdoms” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . 149

“The Three Kingdoms—Copper, Silver, and Gold” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

161
“The Tsar-Maiden” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . 165

“Vasilisa the Beautiful” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . 170

Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . 185

Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . 197

FOREWORD
Unfathomable Baba Yagas

jack zipes

n Baba Yaga: The Ambiguous Mother and Witch of the Russian

Folktale, the most thorough study of Baba Yaga to date, Andreas

Johns demonstrates that Baba Yaga has appeared in hundreds if

not thousands of folktales in Russia, Ukraine, and Belarus since

the eighteenth century, if not earlier. She is not just a dangerous witch

but also a maternal benefactress, probably related to a pagan

goddess.

Many other Russian scholars such as Joanna Hubbs in Mother

Russia: The

Feminine Myth in Russian Culture, Linda Ivanits in Russian Folk

Belief, and

Cherry Gilchrist in Russian Magic: Living Folk Traditions of an

Enchanted

Landscape have confirmed this: Baba Yaga transcends definition

because she

is an amalgamation of deities mixed with a dose of sorcery. Though it

is

difficult to trace the historical evolution of this mysterious figure with

exac-

titude, it is apparent that Baba Yaga was created by many voices and
hands
from the pre-Christian era in Russia up through the eighteenth
century

when she finally became “fleshed out,” so to speak, in the abundant

Russian

and other Slavic tales collected in the nineteenth century. These

Russian

and Slavic folktales were the ones that formed an indelible and
unfathom-

able image of what a Baba Yaga is. I say “a Baba Yaga,” because in
many tales

there are three Baba Yagas, often sisters, and in some tales a Baba
Yaga is Illustration by Viktor killed only to rise again. And no Baba
Yaga is exactly like another.

Vasnetsov (1848–1926).

vii

Foreword

A Baba Yaga is inscrutable and so powerful that she does not owe al-

legiance to the Devil or God or even to her storytellers. In fact, she

opposes

all Judeo-Christian and Muslim deities and beliefs. She is her own
woman,

a parthogenetic mother, and she decides on a case-by-case basis

whether she
will help or kill the people who come to her hut that rotates on chicken
legs.

She shows very few characteristics and tendencies of western

witches, who

were demonized by the Christian church, and who often tend to be

beauti-

ful and seductive, cruel and vicious. Baba Yaga sprawls herself out in
her hut

and has ghastly features—drooping breasts, a hideous long nose,

and sharp

iron teeth. In particular, she thrives on Russian blood and is

cannibalistic.

Her major prey consists of children and young women, but she will
occa-

sionally threaten to devour a man. She kidnaps in the form of a

Whirlwind

or other guises. She murders at will. Though we never learn how she
does

this, she has conceived daughters, who generally do her bidding. She
lives in

the forest, which is her domain. Animals venerate her, and she
protects the

forest as a mother-earth figure. The only times she leaves it, she
travels in a

mortar wielding a pestle as a club or rudder and a broom to sweep

away the
tracks behind her. At times, she can also be generous with her
advice, but

her counsel and help do not come cheaply, for a Baba Yaga is always
testing

the people who come to her hut by chance or by choice. A Baba

Yaga may

at times be killed, but there are others who take her place. Baba Yaga
holds

the secret to the water of life and may even be Mother Earth herself.
This is

why Baba Yaga is very much alive today, and not only in Mother
Russia, but

also throughout the world.

While a Baba Yaga is still a uniquely Russian folk character, she has

now become an international legendary figure and will probably never

die.

Stories about her dreadful and glorious deeds circulate throughout

the

world in translation. Fabulous book illustrations, paintings, and

colorful de-

signs imprinted, painted, or carved on all kinds of artifacts have

flourished

in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. She is often the star figure
in

children’s picture books, even though she functions primarily as a

witch.
Films, animated cartoons, and digital images have portrayed a Baba
Yaga

as omnipotent, dreadful, and comical. In many of the images, she is

shown

flying about in her mortar and wielding her pestle as in the

illustrations by

Viktor Bibikov, Dimitri Mitrokhin, and Viktor Vasnetsov. She seems al-

ways obsessed and vicious. Some artists such as Aleksandr

Nanitchkov and

Rima Staines are fond of showing her in weird types of huts on

chicken

legs. No matter how she is portrayed, there are always hints of her
Russian

heritage in the images. The emphasis on traditional dress and

nineteenth-

viii

Foreword

century styles are especially evident in the famous illustrations for

Vasilisa

the Beautiful by Ivan Bilibin and the gouache paintings by Boris

Zvorykin

for Vasilisa the Fair. In particular, Bilibin’s watercolors have had a

profound
influence on how Baba Yaga and other characters were to be
imagined. That

is, he set a high artistic standard at the beginning of the twentieth

century.

Yet, no matter how Baba Yaga is portrayed, it is her strange Russian

other-

ness that paradoxically strikes a common chord in readers of her

tales. This

strange commonality can be viewed in a wide array of illustrations,

designs,

and artifacts created by artists of different nations, many which have

been

carefully selected by Martin Skoro for this volume.

While Skoro’s colorful selection of images reveals the breadth and

depth

of numerous artists inspired by Baba Yaga tales, the superb

translation of

the Russian tales by Sibelan Forrester provides an unusual

opportunity to

appreciate the cultural significance of Baba Yaga in the nineteenth

century.

Forrester has carefully selected tales in which Baba Yaga plays a key
role

from Aleksandr Nikolaevich Afanas’ev’s Russian Folk Tales (1855–

1866) and
Ivan Aleksandrovich Khudiakov’s Great Russian Tales (1860–1862),
two of

the pioneer collections of Russian folktales. As Jack Haney has

pointed out

in his significant study, An Introduction to the Russian Folktale,

Afanas’ev and

Khudiakov were not alone during this period when many writers and
schol-

ars began collecting folktales, but their collections are generally

considered

the richest and most interesting, especially with regard to the oral
wonder

tales that feature Baba Yaga. Afanas’ev did not collect most of his
tales him-

self but relied on the archives of the Geographical Society in Moscow

and

on tales sent to him by friends and colleagues. As for Khudiakov, he

actu-

ally went into the countryside to collect his tales, and he had a keen
eye for

satirical stories.

It was not easy for either Afanas’ev or Khudiakov to publish their tales

because of the strict censorship in the Russian Empire during the

nine-

teenth century, and any work that appeared to be anticlerical,

politically
questionable, or scatological was often denied permission for
publication.

Or, the texts were heavily edited and changed. In general, tales
largely told

by peasants, which might reinforce belief in ancient rituals, beliefs,

witch-

es, wizards, and supernatural animals, were looked upon with great
sus-

picion by the governmental authorities, the church, and the upper

classes.

Nevertheless, it had been impossible before and still was in the

nineteenth

century for the church and state to prevent the oral dissemination of
won-

der tales that were deeply rooted in pagan traditions. By the

nineteenth

century their appeal to intellectuals grew. Indeed, the national and

cultural

ix

Foreword

interest in historical Russian folklore had grown stronger among the

literate

classes so that social conditions in the latter part of the nineteenth

century
favored the publication of all kinds of tales. Finally, we must bear in
mind,

as Haney has suggested, that Russians, especially the peasants,

continued to

believe deeply in the meanings of the tales for their lives and in such
figures

as Baba Yaga, Russalka, Kolschei the Deathless, fierce dragons, and

bears

with magical powers. What may seem fiction and superstition to us

today

was fact and faith in the nineteenth century.

The Baba Yaga tales chosen for this volume by Forrester are vivid
depic-

tions of how Baba Yaga functioned and figured in different tale types
of

the mid-nineteenth century and lent a distinct Russian aura to the

stories.

But it is important first to bear in mind the commonalities of the tales

that

were widespread in Europe and the Middle East during the

nineteenth cen-

tury. For instance, “Again the Stepmother and the Stepmother’s

Daughter”

is similar to numerous western European tales in which a wise

woman
in an underground world bestows gifts on an industrious young girl
and

punishes a lazy, arrogant girl. “Vasilisa the Beautiful” belongs to the

great

Indo-European tradition of “Cinderella” tales. The motif of incest in

“Prince

Danila-Govorila” was a significant one in numerous medieval

romances and

tales in Europe. “Finist the Bright Falcon” is related to the numerous

beast

bridegroom tales that were disseminated throughout Europe. Other

mo-

tifs such as the magic tablecloth, the invisible cloak, the flying carpet,
the

stick that hits by itself, and the donkey that spews gold were common
in

Europe and the Middle East. “The Three Kingdoms—Copper, Silver,

and

Gold” recalls numerous Italian and Arab tales, distinguished by plots

in

which a youngest brother is sent down a well by his two older

brothers to

rescue three princesses, only to be abandoned by them in the well

after he

is successful. The only way the youngest brother can return to his
father’s
kingdom and claim that he was the true rescuer is by riding a magic
eagle

that eats some of his flesh. Almost every tale in the collection
translated by

Forrester can be found in other European or Middle Eastern

collections

of tales in the nineteenth century that speak to the amazing oral and
print

dissemination of wonder tales and say something about the universal

appeal

of these tales.

Yet, there are differences that reflect cultural particularities, and the

most distinguishable feature of Russian wonder tales, in my opinion,

is

Baba Yaga. No matter what a tale type or how common it may be in

the

Indo-European tradition, she will emerge in the story as the decisive

figure

and turn the plot in favor of or against the protagonist. Moreover, I

know

Foreword

of no other witch/wise woman character in European folklore who is

so
amply described and given such unusual paraphernalia as Baba
Yaga. Most

important, she clearly announces how enmeshed she is with Russia

when-

ever she senses Russian blood is near. No one has ever fully
explained why

it is that she is always so eager to spill and devour Russian blood and
not

the blood of some other nation. One would think that, as a protector
of

Russian soil, she might always be helpful when Russians appear at

her hut.

Yet, she is most severe with Russians and seems strangely to be

protecting

Russian soil from the Russians. She also demands the most from
Russians

and shows no mercy if they fail to listen to her. A Baba Yaga is the
ultimate

tester and judge, the desacralized omnipotent goddess, who defends

deep-

rooted Russian pagan values and wisdom and demands that young
women

and men demonstrate that they deserve her help. But what Baba
Yaga also

defends in the nineteenth-century tales collected in this volume are

quali-
ties that the protagonists need to adapt and survive in difficult
situations

such as perseverance, kindness, obedience, integrity, and courage. If

we bear

in mind that these tales reflect the actual living conditions of the
Russian

people in the mid-nineteenth century to a large degree, and that they

were

listened to and read at face value, they are very profound

“documents” about

the struggles of ordinary Russians and their faith in extraordinary

creatures

to help them in times of need. They are also dreams of compensation

for

their helplessness. Stories of hope. The tales are filled with sibling
rivalry,

bitter conflicts between stepchildren and stepmothers, incest, class

struggle,

disputes about true heirs, ritual initiations, the pursuit of immortality,

and

so on. Though the tales may take place in another time and realm,
they are

always brought down to earth by the storyteller at the end, for what
may

happen metaphorically to the characters in the tales is very close to

the con-
ditions experienced by the listeners. In all the tales Baba Yaga is
compelling

and dreaded, because she forces the protagonists to test themselves

and not

to delude themselves that there is an easy way to reconcile conflicts.

This

is also why Baba Yaga transcends Russia and has become woven in
other

cultures, to be sure, in ways that are much different from the

nineteenth-

century tales in this collection.

The intercultural weaving of witches and wise women is a fascinating

aspect of all folklore throughout the world. Indeed, when we begin to

study

the otherness of such characters as Baba Yaga, we learn a great

deal about

our own culture by noting differences, while, at the same time, we can
make

startling comparisons that show why Baba Yaga may be connected to

other

folk traditions of folk sorcery throughout the world. In a fascinating

study

xi

Foreword
of recorded stories of Sicilian fairies and witches from the sixteenth to
the

nineteenth centuries, Gustav Henningsen writes: “Like southern

Spain,

Sicily was a region in which sorcery and black magic thrived, but
where

popular notions of witchcraft were absent. However, in contrast to

Spain,

Sicily could boast of a particular type of charismatic healer, who was

a spe-

cialist in curing diseases caused by the fairies: these healers were

women and

sometimes men, too, who claimed to possess ‘sweet blood’ ( sangre

dulce), and

who therefore each Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday night were

obliged to

rush out in spirit ( in espíritu) and take part in the meetings and
nocturnal

journeyings of ‘the company. ’”1 Henningsen explains that numerous

Sicilian

women from the sixteenth through the nineteenth centuries asserted

they

were healers, donas di fuora (ladies from outside), and that they often
com-

bined the qualities of a witch and a fairy to perform healing acts to

offset
the evil of some other fairies or supernatural creatures. In other
words, the

donas di fuora were very similar to the Baba Yagas of Russian

tradition; they

belonged to a dualistic system of widespread belief and could cause

harm

or do good. Even if fairy-witches caused harm, there were ways

through

offerings or expiation to repair damage. Henningsen believes that the

fairy

cult was, to a certain extent, compensation for the hopeless poverty

of daily

life throughout Sicily. More important, he explains that the fairy cult is
“a

variant of a widely extended and therefore presumably old and deep-

rooted

Mediterranean and east European complex of shamanistic beliefs.” In

Sicily,

the belief in fairies and sorceresses led to the creation of a character

called

La Mamma-dràa (Mamma-draga the Ogress) by the nineteenth

century.

She appears in numerous Sicilian wonder tales and is connected to

the

“ladies from the outside.” Though this figure (sometimes a male) is

never
amply described in the tales, she functions like a Baba Yaga,
dangerous and

benevolent, a cannibal and a wise counselor.

It is not necessary, I believe, to draw “exact” parallels between the

Sicilian

fairy cult and the shamanistic Baba Yaga cult in Russia. There is
enough evi-

dence to indicate that there were strongly held beliefs in pagan

goddesses in

Sicily and Russia that were transformed into tales that enabled
peasants in

both countries to contend with their suffering and to offer some hope
for a

better life. It is perhaps strange to conclude that Baba Yaga may be a

symbol

of hope because she is so ambiguous, as often frightening as

benevolent. But

hope may be best generated when a wise woman does not mince her
words,

and a true Baba Yaga is never one to mince her words.

xii
PREFACE , ACKNOWLED GMENTS,

AN D TRANSLATOR’S NOTE

hat could be more intriguing than a book about a famous

witch? This collection offers twenty-nine fairy tales featur-

ing Baba Yaga, along with images that show how artists have

imagined her for over more than two centuries. We love Baba

Yaga and want to present her here in all her richness and complexity.

This book is meant for many kinds of readers. Those with a Russian

background will find familiar tales, an introduction that presents a

variety

of ways to understand Baba Yaga, images from a variety of sources,

and
some recommendations for further reading. Specialists in Russian
culture

and in folklore will reach for the volume to learn more about Baba
Yaga or

perhaps will assign it to students in courses on Russian folklore or

fairy

tales. The book will also appeal to readers who are simply curious
about this

colorful folkloric figure.

The brief bibliography (pages liii–lv) includes many of the sources

men-

tioned in the introduction, along with a filmography and the sources

for im-

ages. The tales are taken from two famous nineteenth-century

collections:

the 1855–1863 compilation of Aleksandr Afanas’ev, the best-known

and most

often translated in the West ( Narodnye russkie skazki), and the tales
collect-

ed by Ivan Khudiakov, first published in 1861–1862 ( Velikorusskie

skazki). 1

Afanas’ev was an editor more than a collector, though his well-

developed

sense of what constituted “real” folklore led him to exclude versions

that
had been spoiled by the educated collectors who had written them
down. Illustration by Ivan Bilibin Some of the tales in Afanas’ev’s
editions had appeared in earlier printed (1876–1942).

xiii

Preface, Acknowledgments, and Translator’s Note

version, making them even further removed from the oral originals
than

the handwritten recordings he worked with in the archives of the

Russian

Geographical Society. His versions tend in general to be longer, more

poetic,

and less conversational than Khudiakov’s; many though not all of

them have

something of a literary finish. Khudiakov recorded most of his tales

from the

tellers themselves, often identifying the place and teller in brief notes
that

we have included after the tales taken from his collection; his
versions are

less stylistically elegant or elaborate than Afanas’ev’s. Juxtaposing

Afanas’ev’s

and Khudiakov’s versions makes for interesting differences,

especially when

the plots overlap. We might compare the pleasure of reading variants

of the
same tale to that of hearing a familiar song performed by a new
singer, and

sometimes the voices of individual tellers come strongly through the

layers

of time and translation. Where the tales include variants (different

versions

of the same plot, perhaps told by different individuals at different

times),

these are included in the notes that follow the tales. The variants are
inter-

esting to general readers as well as to folklorists, and including them

was

something of an innovation in Afanas’ev’s collection.

Martin Skoro conceived the idea for this book some years ago. He
gathered

images of Baba Yaga and found information about her in numerous

books

and on the Web. Sibelan Forrester selected and translated a group of

folk-

tales that feature Baba Yaga and was primarily responsible for writing
the

introduction to the book. Helena Goscilo brought striking images of

Baba

Yaga from her own collection and added incisive analysis of the
images,
along with valuable comments on the introduction and translations.
We are

grateful to have the foreword from Jack Zipes, a folklorist and scholar
we

tremendously admire. His comments and suggestions also

contributed sig-

nificantly to the introduction and the translations.

ACKNOWLED GMENTS

Thanks to the Slavic Collection of the Library of the University of

Illinois

in Urbana-Champaign, whose shelves hold nineteenth-century

editions of

Afanas’ev and Khudiakov. Thanks also to McCabe Library at

Swarthmore

College and to the magical powers of Inter-Library Loan. Swarthmore

College supported this project with research funding (a James A.

Michener

Faculty fellowship) and the opportunity for me (SF) to teach a course

on

Russian Folktales; I owe particular thanks to Provost Tom

Stephenson for

xiv
Preface, Acknowledgments, and Translator’s Note

Kak Muzhik u Vsex v Dolgu

ostalsia i kak [How the Peas-

ant Man Wound up in Debt

to Everyone and How] by

Vasilii Lebedev, 1923. Repro-

duced courtesy of the Cotsen

Children’s Library, Princeton

University Library.
support of the edition. I am grateful to Robert Chandler, one of the
fore-

most translators from Russian in the world today, for comments on

the in-

troduction and some of the translations, and for including a briefer

version

of the introduction as an appendix in his edition, Russian Magic Tales

from

Pushkin to Platonov. 2 It has been a great pleasure working with

Craig Gill at the University Press of Mississippi, and the other
thoughtful and talented

workers at the Press. Jack Zipes has proved yet again to be a true
prince, and

I am eternally grateful to N.B., as well as to my collaborators in this

venture,

Marty and Helena. (SF)

My gratitude to the hundreds of magic-loving students at the

University

of Pittsburgh enrolled in Russian Fairy Tales, the course I originated

there

many moons ago, and to David Birnbaum, who proved not only a fel-

low image-maven, but also a benevolent stepfather when he adopted

the

course and, in quintessential fairy-tale mode, transformed it into a

different

beast—a veritable hydra with numerous teaching heads. (HG)

I’m grateful to so many friends, family members, and business
profession-

als for their interest, encouragement, and help in seeing this book
come to

fruition.

xv

Preface, Acknowledgments, and Translator’s Note

The synthesis that produces a book is an exciting experience to

behold.

It’s humbling to witness like-minded individuals bringing diverse

expertise

to bear with such grace. I’m truly grateful that the swirl of fate brought
me

to encounter renowned literary scholar Jack Zipes, that Jack took me

under

his wing to guide and mentor me, and that he connected me to

Professor

Sibelan Forrester, who in turn brought to the project Professor Helena

Goscilo. All three are remarkable scholars in the field of literary

scholar-

ship. Another suggestion from Jack directed me to the University

Press of

Mississippi, whose assistant director and editor in chief, Craig Gill,

was a
most gracious, patient, and broad-minded steward.

I thank Jack for generously providing the foreword for the book;
Sibelan

for her counsel, the enormous work and expertise on the translations
and

the writing of the introduction, the preface, and the index; Helena for
con-

tributing her time, advice, the writing of the wonderful image captions
and

guidance on image use and placement; Craig for his creative

administration

and problem-solving of many quandaries along the way. John

Langston and

Pete Halverson, also of the Press, were saving graces with their
design ex-

pertise, and patience.

To the organizations and individuals that were gracious in their help

and granting usage of images I am deeply appreciative. Andrea

Immel,

AnnaLee Pauls, and Charles E. Greene at the Princeton Cotsen

Children’s

Library were very helpful and encouraging. Jennifer Chang Rowley at

Random House, Inc., and Lia Ribacchi at Dark Horse Comics, Inc., all
were
generous and well-wishing. I thank, too, for their indispensable help,
friends

Sam Ross, Tony Santucci, Tom McGrail, and in spirit, Doug Sharp.

I also would like to acknowledge those individual artists who have

gra-

ciously permitted use of their art. Specific artists who did artwork for
the

book or worked hard to update or polish their work are Rima Staines
of

England; Alexander Nanitchkov of Bulgaria; Cindy Furguson and

Forest

Rogers of the United States; Sergei Tyukanov and Waldemar Kazak

of

Russia; and Fabiano Mello de Lima of Brazil.

I have many friends to thank also for their interest and generous mon-

etary contributions that have helped to make possible the printing of

the

book in full color. I am deeply indebted. Thank you.

The seed of the desire to see this book realized grew from a deep
love

of stories, folktales, and mysteries cultivated by my father and

mother, who

loved books and all the knowledge and wisdom within them. They
provided

a loving atmosphere of adventure and wonder.

xvi

Preface, Acknowledgments, and Translator’s Note

Kak Muzhik u Vsex v

Dolgu ostalsia i kak by Vasilii

Lebedev, 1923. Reproduced

courtesy of the Cotsen

Children’s Library, Princeton

University Library.
My life companion, partner, and wife, Ross (Roselyn), has been a
bless-

ing throughout my life and my best friend. She has been ever patient
and

gracious for understanding my want to see this book completed. (MS)

TRANSLATOR’S NOTE

As Roman Jakobson and Pëtr Bogatyrev noted in the 1920s, folklore

is a

special kind of creativity. Folktale plots do exist in a kind of ideal,

potential

state, but they are encountered only in real-time oral performance (or,
sec-

ondarily, in written recordings drawn from spoken performances).

Usually

a single person tells a tale, but even if he or she is the best teller in
the

region, with the biggest repertoire of stories, the audience will “edit” a
tale

in the course of its performance. If listeners are at loose ends and the
tale

grabs their attention, their appreciation may encourage the teller to go

into

more detail. Perhaps they will even offer the teller something to wet
his or

her whistle; many of the tales end with a ritual hint that the teller
would
indeed like a drink, if not two. If the audience is in a hurry, the tale will
be

short; if the audience gets bored, it will not request that tale or teller
again.

Listeners feel no compunction about shouting down an unappealing

teller

or tale. Thanks to such collective “censorship,” these tales are the

property of

xvii
Preface, Acknowledgments, and Translator’s Note

A lubok (popular woodcut

print) showing Baba Yaga

dancing to bagpipes played

by a bearded, balding peas-

ant. Early eighteenth century,

anonymous. Some com-

mentators view this scene

as a positive depiction of the

domestic relations between

Peter the Great and his wife,

Catherine, the first woman

to rule Russia, though briefly

(1725–1727).

a whole community and a whole culture. Thus, we can assume that

people

liked Baba Yaga and appreciated her role in the tales, since she
shows up in

many of the most popular and widely attested Russian tales.

In the late 1920s, when Jakobson and Bogatyrev were writing about

the distinctions between folklore and literature, folktales were still a

living
phenomenon in the villages around Moscow—and not only as
children’s

amusement or unofficial form of cultural education. They also offered

adults

a way to pass the time as they worked, or to while away a long night,
when

in winter it was too dark to work and in summer perhaps too light to
sleep.

Like folk songs, dances, and fortune-telling, tales could form part of
sea-

sonal rituals. Variation among versions of the tales is not just typical,
but in-

evitable, since, again, the tales were told under different

circumstances. We

today might similarly reorder and “improve” a story we heard from a

friend

or adapt a joke to suit different audiences. In order to convey

something of

this aspect of “live” folklore, we include not just a variety of Baba

Yaga tales,

but also several variants of tale plots. The reader will see that some
tales

with different titles overlap considerably in the structure of their plots

(as

do “The Brother” and “The Geese and Swans”), while others have the
same
title but significant differences in plot (compare the two versions of
“The

Three Kingdoms”). Baba Yaga’s popularity in Russia fairy tales

means that

a book of tales involving her is also a rich introduction to this part of

the

xviii

Preface, Acknowledgments, and Translator’s Note

Russian folk heritage, including one or another version of many of the

best-

known and best-loved tales.

Folktales are everyone’s property, and they have always crossed

linguis-

tic and ethnic boundaries just as people migrate in time and space.
Baba

Yaga is a Russian witch who will sound somewhat different

transported into

American English. Some of the original sources include dialect words

from

the regions of Russia where they were recorded, but I have tried to
make

the language fairly neutral, emphasizing the story more than the
narrator’s
linguistic idiosyncrasies. The overall style aims to be comfortable for
read-

ing aloud. Where the original Russian includes a particularly

enjoyable or

unusual word, it is mentioned in a note to the text. At the same time,

this is

a translation rather than a retelling by a folk teller who performs in a

differ-

ent language, and so I have endeavored to preserve some of the

foreignness

of these texts. The introduction below will dwell on a few forms of this

foreignness.

Some parts of the tales are difficult to render in English, such as the

unusual names (beginning with Baba Yaga, whose name in Russian

is rarely

written with upper-case letters and often refers not to a single person,
but

to a figure that can show up three times in one tale), titles (like the
tsar,

whose title comes from “Caesar” by way of Byzantine Greek), or

objects

from everyday traditional life in Russia, including Baba Yaga’s own

hut and

accoutrements. These aspects convey a wonderful strangeness, an

imprint
of Russian traditional culture quite distinct from other national
traditions.

Some of the details that might catch the reader’s interest are also
glossed

briefly in in notes.

Reading aloud may be the closest that most of us will come to the
origi-

nal spoken performance of folktales. For better or worse, we live in a

literate

culture, where most people can no longer produce a long narrative

without

memorizing it, though we probably all know people who have an

unusual

talent for telling stories. We do continue to practice folklore, but today

it

tends to be in different genres: ghost stories, jokes, rumors, or the

various

urban legends that shade into popular culture.

Nevertheless, perhaps the reader of the tales in this book will be in-

spired to tell them to someone—and bring Baba Yaga back to life.

Sibelan Forrester

Swarthmore, Pennsylvania

August 2012

xix
B is for Baba Yaga, from Picture Alphabet by Alexandre Benois
(1904). A frequently reproduced image from the children’s alphabet
book conceived and illustrated by Benois—B is for Baba Yaga.
Interrupted at gathering mushrooms, the older of two potential victims
stares in awed terror at the Frequent Flyer old crone overhead.

Benois’s choice implies that Russian children learned about Baba

Yaga at a very early age and possibly derived some pleasure from
fear. Illustration by Alexandre Benois (1870–1960).

I NTRODUCTION

Baba Yaga: The Wild Witch of the East

Who is this wild witch, and why is she riding in a mortar?

s the classic Russian fairy-tale witch, Baba Yaga has elicited

fascination, trepidation, and wonder in generations of Russian

children and adults. This book offers twenty-nine stories and

even more images; the tales are from Russia, while the illustra-

tions come both from Russia and from the wider world. Our
introduction

is meant to put Baba Yaga in context and perhaps to answer

questions that

arise during or after reading. We hope this collection will appeal to

many

kinds of readers, whether they have a special personal or scholarly

interest

in Russia, are students of folklore or popular culture, are curious

about the

psychological resonance of folktales, or are simply following their

instinct

for pleasure.

THE HISTORY OF THE WORDS

Though only a few of the tales say it in so many words, most

Russians would

agree that Baba Yaga is a witch. The Russian word for witch is
ved’ma. The

word root ved- means ‘to know,’ and related words in Modern
Russian mean

‘news’ (as in the title of Pravda’s one-time competitor, the Soviet

newspaper Illustration by Ivan Bilibin Iz ves tiia), as well as
information or consultation, and the particle ved’ means (1876–1942).

xxi

Introduction

‘indeed’ (as if commanding one’s listener “know this!”). The word

witch in

English has a similar linguistic history: the root of witch is wit. That
verb

still shows up in English “to wit,” “unwitting,” the old-fashioned phrase

“God

wot,” and of course in keeping one’s wits about one. Feminists and
Wiccans

have worked to reclaim the word witch in its sense of “wise woman”
or

“woman who knows,” but in both Russian and English the words as
com-

monly used suggest age and ugliness first, power second. Over the
centu-

ries, words that name women and girls have often slipped in meaning
from

ordinary or even admiring terms into insults, much as some neutral

terms

for ethnic, racial, or religious groups have come to be used as insults

(which
then requires invention of a new, neutral word that may feel clumsy at
first).

“Wench” was once a neutral term for a girl, and the Russian word
devka,

which suggests a prostitute as the word is used in many literary

works, was

the neutral term for an unmarried peasant girl—a member of the

group

most likely to be sexually exploited by upper-class Russian men.

Language

neatly shows the social standing of different groups, and its

development

can reveal historical changes in social relationships.

Even if we call her a witch, what does Baba Yaga’s name mean? The
first

half is easy: baba in traditional Russian culture meant a married

peasant

woman, one at least old enough to have children. (In Russian now,
baba is an

insulting word for a woman: it suggests low class, slovenliness, lack

of emo-

tional restraint, or sexual availability of an aging or otherwise

unattractive

kind.) When Russians build a snowman, they call it not a man, but a
snow
baba. Suffixes bring out different shades of the basic meanings of
Russian

nouns: babka is a midwife (usually, an older woman with experience

around

pregnancy and childbirth); babushka is an affectionate term for

‘grandmoth-

er’ (and, in the West, the headscarf old women in Russia traditionally
wore);

on another note, babochka is a butterfly, or else the visually similar

bow tie.

The word babochka is related to an ancient belief that, when a person

died,

the soul left the body in the form of a bird or a butterfly (compare the
Greek

psyche, which meant both ‘soul’ and ‘butterfly’). If a butterfly fluttered

by, it

was the soul of a little grandmother, presumably en route to a better

place.

Thus, baba can mean ‘old woman,’ though it does not always; the
word sta-

rukha (more affectionately, starushka), ‘old woman,’ makes a

woman’s age

clear. Age is described in Russian folktales in a way that might

surprise us

today, too. The “old man” and “old woman” in a tale are old enough to
have
children of marriageable age, but they may be just barely old enough
—per-

haps in their late thirties. Baba Yaga is far older than that.

xxii

Introduction

The second part of her name, yaga, is harder to define. Scholars do

not

know exactly what it means, though they point to similar words as a

com-

parison. One school of thought relates the word to verbs for riding—
and it

does sound rather like the Russian verb ekhat’ ‘to ride,’ or the
German word

Jaeger ‘huntsman.’ Another theory is that yaga originally meant

‘horrible,’

‘horrifying,’ and should be compared to the words jeza ‘shiver’ or

jezivo ‘chill-

ing, horrifying’ in some of the South Slavic languages (Bosnian,

Croatian,

Serbian). If Baba Yaga originally played a role in a secret corpus of

myths

or initiation rituals, a taboo might have discouraged people from

saying her
name in other contexts. (In another example, the original Russian
word for

bear is lost; most Slavic languages use a euphemism, like the

Russian medved’.

That word came from roots meaning ‘honey-eater,’ but now it looks
like

‘honey-knower,’ with the same root, ved-, that appears in the word
ved’ma.

As contemporary political cartoons show, the bear is still a central

figure

in Russian culture.) Maks Fasmer’s monumental Etymological

Dictionary of

the Russian Language1 has a longish entry for “yaga,” pointing out
cognate words in other Slavic languages and arguing against several
theories of the

word’s origins and original meaning. The amount of space Fasmer

devotes to

dismantling other theories suggests that we will never know the real
origin

of the word ‘yaga.’ Figures very much like Baba Yaga appear in West
Slavic

(Czech and Polish) tales; the rich reference work Mify narodov mira,
‘Myths

of the Peoples of the World,’ mentions the Polish jędza and Czech
jezink a,

‘forest baba.’ Baba Yaga is well known in Ukrainian and Belarusian

tales,
though we have limited our translations to Russian tales here. 2

In Russian, Baba Yaga’s name is not capitalized. Indeed, it is not a

name

at all, but a description—“old lady yaga” or perhaps “scary old

woman.” There

is often more than one Baba Yaga in a story, and thus we should
really say

“a Baba Yaga,” “the Baba Yaga.” We do so in these tales when a

story would

otherwise be confusing. We have continued the western tradition of

capital-

izing Baba Yaga, since the words cannot be translated and have no
other

meaning in English (aside perhaps from the pleasant associations of

a rum

baba). There is no graceful way to put the name in the plural in

English, and

in Russian tales multiple iterations of Baba Yaga never appear at the

same

time, only in sequence: Baba Yaga sisters or cousins talk about one
another,

or send travelers along to one another, but they do not live together.
The

first-person pronoun “I” in Russian, ‘ ia,’ is also uncapitalized. In some

tales
our witch is called only “Yaga.” A few tales refer to her as “Yagishna,”
a patro-

nymic form suggesting that she is Yaga’s daughter rather than Yaga
herself.

xxiii

Introduction

(That in turn suggests that Baba Yaga reproduces

parthenogenetically, and

some scholars agree that she does.) The lack of capitalization in

every pub-

lished Russian folktale also hints at Baba Yaga’s status as a type

rather than

an individual, a paradigmatic mean or frightening old woman. This

descrip-

tion in place of a name, too, could suggest that it was once a

euphemism for

another name or term, too holy or frightening to be spoken, and

therefore

now long forgotten.

OTHER NAMES I N THE TALES

Many Russian personal names are recognizable in English, since

they are

related to familiar biblical or western names. Mar’ia is the folk form of

Maria, though it is pronounced “MAR-ya.” We have left the prime
mark (‘)

in Mar’ia Morevna’s name in the eponymous tale to remind the reader

of

that difference. The second part of Mar’ia Morevna’s name is a

patronymic,

formed from her father’s name. It means “Daughter of the Sea”—

quite

unusual parentage. They suggest that she, like Baba Yaga, descends
from

some very old sources.3 Belaia lebed’, ‘White Swan’ Zakhar’evna, in

the second version of “The Young Man and the Apples of Youth”
here, has a more

ordinary patronymic: her father’s name was Zakharii (= Zacharias).

Vasilii

and Vasilisa are forms of the name Basil (which does not produce a
woman’s

name in English). Ivan is the most common name for a Russian fairy-
tale

hero, whether he starts out as a prince or as a fool. Ivan is the same

name as

John; the relationship is easier to see if one compares the medieval

Russian

form, Ioann, to the German form of John, Johannes. Hans (short for

Johannes) is generally the name of the common hero in German

folktales,
while Jack (a nickname for John) is the hero in many folktales from
Great

Britain and America. In the tales translated here, the word tsar is left
as ‘tsar’

(a fairy tale is no place for a revolution!), rather than translated as

“king,” but

the tsar’s son tsarevich and daughter tsarevna are rendered as

“prince” and

“princess,” more or less their equivalents in western terms. When a

character

has a “talking name” (such as Zlatokos, “Goldilocks”), we have

glossed it in

a note. Many of the heroines, especially, have no personal name in

the tales.

But even in “Vasilisa the Beautiful,” Baba Yaga plays such a

significant role

that Pyotr Simonov (in his Essential Russian Mythology) adds her
name to

the tale’s title: “Vasilisa the Beautiful and Baba Yaga.”

Two characters besides Baba Yaga have uncommon names in these

tales.

One is the invisible magic helper and I-know-not-what, Shmat-

Razum,

xxiv
Baba Yaga, Karbel.Cotsen 26249 Lutoshen’ka, Moscow Karbel (circa
1910) illustration to the story “Lutoshen’ka,”

Moscow. Atypically traveling on foot, the appropriately long-nosed

Baba Yaga as kidnapper carries on her back a sack with the meal
she anticipates cooking in her stove at home. Her dish of choice is
customarily male, as evident in tales describing her attempts to shove
the boy-hero into the oven. Curiously, despite Baba Yaga’s reputation
for cannibalism, her guests normally thwart her attempts to roast and
consume them, as in “Baba Yaga and the Kid”

(Afanas’ev, no. 106). Reproduced courtesy of the Cotsen Children’s

Library, Princeton University Library.

Introduction

who appears here in a single tale. Shmat means a scrap or fragment,

and

razum means ‘sense,’ so that one might translate it (him?) as “Rag-

Reason,”

albeit with a loss of phonetic punch. The other, more common folktale

character is Koshchei or Kashchei bessmertnyi, ‘Koshchei the

Deathless.’ His

proper name sounds as if it comes from the word kost’, ‘bone,’ and he
is often

drawn as a skeletal old man. Unlike Baba Yaga, Kashchei is always a

villain,

though he does possess a certain sense of honor: in “Mar’ia

Morevna,” he
spares the life of Prince Ivan three times because Ivan once
(unintentionally)

set him free, by restoring his monstrous strength with three bucket-
sized

drinks of water. Koshchei is known as an abductor of young maidens.

Both

parts of his name—“bones” and “deathless”—suggest a tie with

death, in

spite of his libidinous-seeming behavior.

It turns out, of course, that the epithet “deathless” does not mean that
he

can’t be killed, only that his death is outside him, in another place: it is
the

tip of a needle in an egg, in a duck, in a hare, in a trunk, and so forth,

all lo-

cated across the sea or in a distant forest. If I can tell you this, then
the hero

can find out, too. He journeys to the tree, unearths or unpacks the
alienated

death, and can then slay Koshchei to release the maiden. With
Koshchei

as well as Baba Yaga, the references to bones are ambiguous.

Bones are the

leftovers of a body after death, but they are also a repository of life
force, a
link between two incarnations. The Frog Princess hides leftover swan
bones

in her sleeve and makes them come to life as swimming and flying
birds. In

“Mar’ia Morevna,” Koshchei must be burned after Ivan kills him, and
his

ashes must be scattered to all the winds to ensure he will never come
back.

Baba Yaga’s epithet “bony leg” has been taken to mean that one of
her legs is

literally made of bone—or just that she is old and skinny in a culture
that

valued plumpness. Her fence of human bones, topped with skulls,

shows

another connection with Koshchei, and in some tales he has a

bogatyr horse

he won from her: they are allies in fairy-tale villainy.

Besides names, many of the characters are identified by fixed

epithets:

“fair maiden,” “fine” or “goodly” young man. The tales often give no
descrip-

tions or specifics of character other than this, leaving the listener (or
reader)

to fill in whatever standard image of beauty or goodliness we prefer.

The
bogatyr is a traditional Russian hero, featured in epic songs but
sometimes

making a kind of guest appearance in folktales as well. These

translations

retain the Russian term bogatyr, since it is not quite the same as
“hero”—es-

pecially when it is Baba Yaga who gives a bogatyr whistle.

xxvi

Introduction

Storehouse. Displayed

in Stockholm, this Sami

storehouse on stilts made of

tree stumps with spreading

roots recalls Baba Yaga’s

domicile. Research shows

that a construction similar

to it housed nomadic hunt-

ers in Siberia intent on

preserving supplies from

foraging animals during

their absence. http://www.

lesjones.com/2009/02/20/

word-of-the-day-baba-yaga-

mythology/.

THE OBJECTS AROUN D BABA YAGA

In the majority of tales where she appears, Baba Yaga lives in an

unusual

house: it usually stands on chicken legs, or sometimes on just one

chicken

leg. Some scholars suggest that this underlines her connections with
birds—

though the eagle, or the geese and swans, that serve her in other
stories are
much more impressive than a chicken, that most domesticated fowl.
At the

same time, chicken legs might suggest that her dwelling, alive and
mobile,

cannot fly and probably never moves too fast or too far. One of our
students

recently returned from study abroad in Sweden, where she visited a

swamp

with houses built atop tree stumps standing in the water. With their
gnarled

roots, she said, the stumps looked surprisingly like chicken feet.
Some of the

tales specify instead that Baba Yaga’s house stands on spindle heels.
Given

the importance of the spindle in women’s traditional crafts, and in

other

parts of the tales (Prince Ivan may have to snap a spindle to free and
recover

his princess), this too seems to come from the culture’s deep past.
Often

Baba Yaga’s house turns around, as if to imitate the spinning of the

earth.

The word ‘time’ in Russian, vremia, comes from the same vr- root of
turning

and returning as the word for spindle, vereteno. A spindle holding up

a ro-
tating house where a frightening old woman tests her visitors and
dispenses

wisdom suggests a deep ritual past.

In Russian, Baba Yaga’s home is most often called an izba. The izba
is a

house made of hewn logs, a kind of construction common all over

north-

ern Russia and Scandinavia. (Immigrants brought it to the United

States

in the form of that superlatively American presidential birthplace, the

log

cabin.) The word izba is often translated as ‘hut,’ but it does not
signify a

xxvii
Introduction

Baba Yaga, a lacquer box

by contemporary artist

Antonina Medvedeva. The

image depicts Baba Yaga and

a cornucopia of elements

that define her (forest, hut,

skulls, mortar and broom,

black cat) and those not part

of her fairy-tale repertoire:

owl, crosses, the steaming

“witch’s pot over a fire,”

with Baba Yaga concocting a

magic potion presumably of

toads, rats, snakes, and the

standard witch ingredients.

That brew sooner belongs

to the three witches in

Shakespeare’s Macbeth than

to Russian fairy tales, and its

inclusion here demonstrates

the Russian handicraft

industry’s profit-driven

catering to Western tradi-

tions and tastes. Artist: A.

Medvedeva. From the village shoddy piece of housing or necessarily

a small one, as we see with the large,

of Mstera, http://www.rus-

multistoried houses in the museum of Russian wooden architecture

on the
sianlacquerart.com/gallery/

northern island of Kizhi. What does it tell us that Baba Yaga’s house
is an

Mstera/0000/001000.

izba? It is a folk house built in vernacular architecture, a traditional

peas-

ant house, a house in the country (not the city), made of wood, and
most

often situated near a forest (from whose trees it was built). When the
hut

or house is turning around, the questing hero or heroine must order it

to

stop turning with a rhymed charm. Intriguingly, everyone in the tales

knows

what to say to make the house stop turning—even the first sisters or
servant

girls in tales like “The Brother,” who fail to retrieve the kidnapped
baby from

Baba Yaga. In “The Frog Princess,” the prince says, “Little house,
little house!

Stand in the old way, as your mother set you—with your face to me,
your

back to the sea.” In “The Young Man and the Apples of Youth” the
saying is

shorter, though it suggests the same source: “Little house, little

house! Turn
your back to the forest, your front to me.” Baba Yaga’s house can be
in the

forest, in an empty field, or on the seashore. These locations all

signify the

same thing: they are far from the original home of the hero or heroine,
on

the border of another world.

When Baba Yaga goes out, she often rides in a mortar, rowing or
punt-

ing herself along with a pestle, perhaps sweeping her tracks away
after her

with a broom. Her power lets her travel by means of these everyday
house-

xxviii
Introduction

Mike Mignola, Hellboy,

Vol. 3: The Chained Coffin

and Others (2004). Dark

Horse; 2nd edition, page 41.

Hellboy: The Chained Coffin

and Others™ © 2011 Mike

Mignola.
keeping implements, much as western Europeans believed that
witches rode

on flying brooms. Her mortar and pestle may themselves be magic

objects

like the fairy-tale flying carpets and invisibility hats, but she never
gives or

even loans them to other characters. For many centuries the mortar
and

pestle were crucial parts of a woman’s tool set, used to prepare herbs
for

cooking or medicine, or to break grain for porridge or baking. Old

photo-

graphs of Russian peasant households show large, deep mortars that

could

have held a substantial measure of grain, though they could hardly

have

accommodated an adult. Ivan Bilibin’s famous picture of Baba Yaga

in flight

(page 176) is in harmony with the old photographs: the pestle is a tall,
rela-

tively narrow tube, not shallow like a bowl. The food-related mortar
and

pestle rightly hint that Baba Yaga’s house is stuffed with edible riches
—the

golden apples a child plays with until his rescuer finds him, or the
stocks
of grain, meat, and drink listed in “Vasilisa the Beautiful,” nourishing
raw

materials to transform into the good things of Russian peasant life:

linen,

wheat, poppy seed.

Baba Yaga’s house may be surrounded with a fence of bones,

perhaps

topped with skulls (or with one pole still untopped, waiting
threateningly

for the hero’s “wild head”), but even if she has an ordinary fence and
gate

they play important roles in the story. While Baba Yaga is sharpening
her

teeth to eat the nameless heroine, the girl pours oil on the hinges of
the

xxix
Ransome by Dmitrii Mitrokhin from Old Peter’s Russian Tales. A
transfixed dog gazes up at Mitrokhin’s fully equipped Baba Yaga in
flight. The female-gendered mortar and male-gendered pestle advert
to her personified image as contradictory all-embracing nature, which
explains why she sweeps away all traces of her passage with the
broom. Reproduced courtesy of the Cotsen Children’s Library,
Princeton University Library.

Introduction

gate and manages to escape. Baba Yaga scolds the gate for not
slamming on

the girl, and the gate responds to her with human words. Baba Yaga
is also

associated with the bathhouse, which in Russia resembles a sauna.

In some

tales she asks the heroine to stoke the fire in the bathhouse
(sometimes with

bones for fuel rather than firewood), to bathe her children (frogs,
reptiles,

and other vermin), or to steam Baba Yaga herself. Many of the tales
mention

Baba Yaga’s stove. The traditional Russian stove is a large

construction of

brick and plaster (in a fancier house, it would be covered with

ornamental

tile), the size of a small room and certainly the dominant object in any
room
it occupies. Some stoves were built so that they heated, and took up
parts

of, more than one room. The stove would incorporate shelves, ovens,
and

hobs, nooks, or hooks for storing cookware. Such a stove would hold
the

fire’s heat, gently diffusing it into the house. This made it a favorite
place

for sleeping. The upper shelves, high above the fire and safely far
away from

vermin or cold drafts on the floor, would stay warm through the night.
The

stove is also associated with the womb, and not only in Russian: the
English

expression “one in the oven” also connects baking with the rising
belly of

a pregnant woman. Joanna Hubbs writes that the stove is moreover a

re-

pository of dead souls, the ancestors. 4 Even more than an ordinary

peasant

stove, Baba Yaga’s is a conduit from death to rebirth.

To escape from Baba Yaga, characters in the tales may themselves

em-

ploy very ordinary objects—sometimes stolen from Yaga’s own house

—and
these too recur from one tale to another. Thrown behind as a
character flees,

a comb or brush turns into thick forest, as if the wood from which they
were

carved came back to life. A mirror, already magical in its ability to

show the

gazer his or her own face, turns into a wide, deep sea. Throwing a
kerchief

or towel will create an impassable river, often a river of fire.

Embroidered

handkerchiefs or towels may become or summon bridges over

impassable

waters, or they may convey secret messages: the wife’s mother and
sisters

in “Go I Don’t Know Where . . .” recognize the hero as her husband

when

he dries his face with a towel she made. Towels in the Russian village
bore

beautiful ritual embroidery and were used in traditional ceremonies

(such

as the hospitable welcome with bread and salt). To find the house of
Baba

Yaga, the hero or heroine may receive a ball of thread (once known
as a

clue in English), like the one that took Theseus in to the Minotaur.
Baba
Yaga lives (or rather, every Baba Yaga lives) in the heart of the
labyrinth, and

the hero or heroine enters there to face his or her worst fears and
vanquish

them. The tales include many other magical objects: in wonder tales
musical

pipes or rings may contain magical helpers, and in “The Three

Kingdoms”

xxxi

Introduction

each kingdom is wrapped up into a ring made of the matching metal

to be

conveyed back to the prince’s own kingdom.

One final traditional element in the tales deserves explanation: that is,

searching for lice. Several tales mention searching for lice, or just
“search-

ing” in a character’s hair. On the one hand, this must have been a
useful

grooming practice; on the other hand, it feels good to have someone

riffle

through one’s hair and touch one’s scalp—especially if the hair is

worn in

long shaggy braids, like Baba Yaga’s. Lice were surely common in old
Russia,
as they were in Western Europe at the time, but the reader should be
as-

sured that “searching for lice” can also mean playing with someone’s
hair in a

pleasant, affectionate way.

BABA YAGA I N THE RUSSIAN PANTHEON

How is Baba Yaga related to other female figures in Russian lore,

especially

in the most archaic remnants of East Slavic culture? The female

figures best

known today in Russian lore are rusalki, sometimes translated as

“mermaids”

though they do not live in the sea. They are said to be the spirits of
girls who

committed suicide out of disappointed love, or the spirits of babies

who

died unbaptized (victims of infanticide?), and they are described

lolling in

the branches of trees or beside streams, combing their long hair,

sometimes

reportedly green in color. They tempt men off the path, intending to
drown

them, or they may tickle children to death. Rusalki are most often
repre-

sented as young and lovely (though the green hair recalls water-
weeds, and
their connection with nature). At the same time, their traits and
activities

largely parallel Baba Yaga’s: they are like younger, lovelier dangerous
females,

tickling children to death instead of eating them. If we see Baba Yaga

as

the Crone face of the triune goddess (maiden, mother, crone), as

Joanna

Hubbs suggests in Mother Russia, then rusalki embody the maiden

face. In

many ways the rusalka resembles the South Slavic vila; some
western read-

ers already know of vilas, thanks to their role as mascots for the
Bulgarian

quidditch team in J. K. Rowling’s Harry Potter novels.

Further in the past are the shadowy figures of the beregini, nameless
plu-

ral female divinities whose title could come from bereg, ‘river bank,’ or
from

the verb root bereg-, ‘to keep, conserve’ or ‘to preserve, economize.’
Even now,

in Russian, an obereg is an amulet, worn on the person or hung in a

house,

to ward off evil. Boris Rybakov5 suggests that the beregini spring
from a hunting culture, guaranteeing rich animal life but also
protecting the hunter
xxxii

Introduction

from the dangers of the woods. They are connected to Baba Yaga in
her role

as queen of the animals; we see echoes of this in the tales where old
women

summon all the birds of the air, animals of the earth, or fish of the sea
in

order to ask where a certain thing or person may be found.

Thanks to the list of the Kievan pagan pantheon recorded in the his-

torical chronicles of old Rus’, the name of one goddess has come
down to

us from the East Slavic past: Mokosh. Her name suggests wetness—
in

Russian the root mok- means ‘wet’ or ‘soak’—and hence she may be
linked

with Moist (or Raw) Mother Earth, Mat’ syra zemlya, mentioned in
songs

and traditional proverbs that concern planting or burial. This image of

the

earth invokes both the damp, chilly soil that is planted in the spring,
and the

earth as a mother’s body to which the dead return—a cold, clammy

body,
unlike the body of the human mother. The Slavic pagan underworld
was

called preispodn’ia, ‘close-under-place.’ That suggests a world or

afterworld

in the near underground, like the one described in “The Three

Kingdoms,”

into which the hero is lowered on leather straps. Though Baba Yaga
is most

often found in the forest, her role in the mysteries of death and rebirth
also

gives her a connection with the harvest and the space underground
where

grain germinates.

Scholars note that Mokosh is connected to the Christian Saint

Paraskeva, called Paraskeva-Piatnita by Russian peasants, or

‘Paraskeva-

Friday.’ Friday was traditionally the day of the goddess in European

pagan-

ism, as we see in linguistic survivals. English Friday is named for

Frigg or

Freya, the Anglo-Scandinavian goddess of love, approximately the

same

as Venus, source of the French Friday, vendredi. Paraskeva in

Russian folk

religious belief was a special patron of women. She protected them in

child-
birth, but she also demanded that Orthodox Christians respect her by
re-

fraining from “women’s” tasks, especially spinning, on Fridays.

Paraskeva’s

day was celebrated on October 28, according to the Julian calendar.

Her day

is so close to Halloween and the Day of the Dead, the old cross-
quarter

day of November 1 that marked the beginning of winter, 6 that the

date sug-

gests Mokosh, who very probably underlies Paraskeva, is like Baba

Yaga: a

queen of gathering food and eventually of harvest but also of death,

guard-

ing the mysteries of winter and old age, the unprepossessing dry
seeds that

hold life until the following season. As Moist Mother Earth “eats” the
bodies

of the dead, so Baba Yaga eats human beings. Paraskeva’s role of

guarding

women in childbirth also ties into some of Baba Yaga’s concerns.

Images of

Paraskeva on Russian icons may show her holding a spindle—the

same tool

that, again, may sometimes hold up Baba Yaga’s rotating hut. Folk
narratives
xxxiii

Introduction

about Paraskeva mention that women who spin on Fridays make her
dirty,

and the “dirty” saint’s tangled hair recalls Baba Yaga’s gray braids.

Another, more occulted possibility is that Baba Yaga is “the devil’s

grand-

mother,” who shows up in a Russian saying approximately equivalent

to “go

to hell”: Idi k chertovoi babushke, “Go the devil’s grandmother.” There

is no

way to prove or trace this now, but it does suggest an interesting

cosmogony.

Many of the tales involve a single Baba Yaga (especially those where
she

tests a daughter sent away by her stepmother, or where she or her

avian min-

ions kidnap children), but many others include three Baba Yagas,
usually

sisters or cousins, 7 whose houses serve as way stations for a hero

or heroine in quest of a lost or distant beloved. Baba Yaga’s trinity is
not a Mozartian

threeness, where hearing a motif twice lulls listeners into expecting

the same
result a third time, only to surprise them with something different.
Baba

Yaga’s threeness is an exact, folkloric trebling, with ritual answers

that are

repeated the same way each time. As mentioned above, the triune
Baba Yaga

suggests connections with the triune goddess,8 with the figures of the
three

Fates, et cetera. 9

DEEPER MEANI NGS OF BABA YAGA

Baba Yaga is a wonderfully rich figure: some of her appearances in

the tales

are quite specific, and we do not wish to blur her outlines by

generalizing

too much. Andreas Johns points out, in his thorough and valuable
book

Baba Yaga, The Ambiguous Mother and Witch of the Russian

Folktale, “Baba

Yaga’s particular combination of traits and functions makes her

unique

among witches and witch-like characters in world folklore” (2). Like

the

Indian goddess Kali, Baba Yaga is terrifying because of her

relationship to

death. She mediates the boundary of death so that living human

beings may
cross it and return, alive but in possession of new wisdom, or “reborn”
into

a new status. Her central role in the fairy-tale process explains why
she ap-

pears in so many wonder tales.10

Like most witches in folklore, Baba Yaga is striking in appearance.

She

is unusually tall (stretching diagonally across her room when she lies
down);

she has a huge nose that may stick up to the ceiling, a bony leg (or,
some-

times, a golden or otherwise unusual leg), and iron teeth that she
sharpens

in anticipation of a tasty human snack. In some tales the descriptions

are

demeaning or disgusting—in one example, her tits ( tit’ki) are slung

up over

a rail. Here Baba Yaga’s aging female body incarnates the grotesque
after-

xxxiv
Introduction

Baba Yaga by Viktor

Vasnetsov (1917). Having

abducted a petrified little

girl, Baba Yaga speeds home

for supper, clutching the

tender, as yet uncooked

morsel. Illustration by Viktor

Vasnetsov (1848–1926).

math of female fertility. The amount of detail devoted to her

description in
some of the tales is quite atypical for a wonder tale, where characters
may

have golden hair or starry foreheads, but not many other explicit
features—

and she is quite unlike the young beauties a listener may imagine,
though

she may have a lovely daughter. The vivid verbal picture of Baba
Yaga has

attracted many illustrators, as the reader shall see.

Among the functions that Vladimir Propp lists in his study of the won-

der tale, Baba Yaga is most often a tester and donor. She grudgingly
hands

over riches, a horse or a large bird for transportation, or necessary

weapons

or tools, and she points out the path to the desired goal—most often,
lead-

ing to or advising on how to recover a missing partner. She is both a

canni-

bal and a kind of innkeeper, a woman who threatens but also often
rewards.

She is a goddess of death, but she also gives access to maturity and
fertility.

She dwells at the border of the other realm, not in Rus’.11 Sometimes
she helps the hero or heroine evade pursuit, while at other times she
is the one
who pursues. She may sneak into Rus’ herself, mastering the path
there and

back; other times she is unable to cross and must stop pursuing the
hero or

heroine at the border. In a few tales she gives the hero and heroine a
magic

carpet ( kover-samolët, or ‘self-flying carpet’) to carry them back

home from

the thrice-tenth kingdom.

Each tale in this collection is different, though many of them share

com-

mon features and some are variants of the same plot. Baba Yaga
appears

in many different guises. Clearly folktale tellers did not expect her to
be

the same every time she appeared. Nevertheless, her various

hypostases or

xxxv

Introduction

stable images would remain in the back of a listener’s mind even if a

tale

stressed another of her roles. If she is being pleasant and helpful, a

listener
would still feel some tension: what if she suddenly started sharpening
her

teeth? She may be a helpful if off-putting old woman, who lives in a

peculiar

house and, when someone arrives from Rus’, comments on the smell
with a

“Foo, foo, foo!”—not unlike the western fairy-tale ogre’s “Fee, fie, fo,
fum!”

A male hero gets the best treatment if he interrupts her questions and
com-

ments with a demand to be fed, given a drink, and put to bed before
he will

begin to tell her his news. She often asks, “Are you doing a deed or
fleeing

a deed?” and she may give the hero a ball of string that will lead to
the next

necessary place, perhaps the home of her own sister, another Baba
Yaga. In

this benign form, a trio of Baba Yaga sisters may be replaced by

ordinary old

women, but their “true identity” is revealed by their role in the tale as
they

send the questing character from one to the next, usually youngest to
old-

est. 12 Second, Baba Yaga can be a frightening witch who is

nonetheless fair,
a donor who rewards Vasilisa or the (step)daughter who serves her
well,

while punishing the evil stepmother and/or stepdaughter. She may

give the

good daughter dresses and other kinds of wealth, or, less fulsomely,
“reward”

her by knocking off the stepmother and/or stepsister(s)—or merely by

not

killing her as the stepmother had expected she would. Third, she can
also

be a frightening witch who is not a donor, or who is an inadvertent

donor;

in “Mar’ia Morevna,” she plans to eat Prince Ivan even though he has
ful-

filled his part of the bargain to earn a wonderful horse, and he has to
steal a

mangy colt from her stable. Fourth, she is a thief of children and
apparently

also a cannibal. In one group of tales, her bird or birds steal a baby,
who

must be rescued by a servant or an older sister. In others, she is

tricked into

eating her own child or children by a boy she stole, who is old enough
to

figure out his own escape from her house.

These are not entirely stable versions of Baba Yaga, as her roles may
blend into one another. There is always the threat that she will eat
someone

who fails her tests, and even when she is being fair or pleasant to a
charac-

ter, the listener must recall the possibility that she will suddenly
change her

mind. When she tears apart the bad stepsister after treating the good
one

fairly, nothing remains but bones; the tale does not specify where the
flesh

went, and perhaps it does not need to. At the same time, when we
see her

stealing babies (most often a little boy), the babies do not seem to be
in im-

mediate danger. The sister in “The Geese and Swans” discovers her
brother

playing with golden apples, which resonate with the apples of youth in
other

tales, and the brother in “The Brother” is discovered sitting on a chair

(not

xxxvi
Introduction
Baba Yaga, Tears of Joy

Theatre 2012 Season.

Nancy Aldrich, creative

director, http://tinyurl.

com/c8qb5hz, photo by

Ithica Tell.

the cold, dirty floor) while the cat Yeremei tells him tales. In both
these

tales, servant birds stole the children, not Baba Yaga herself. The kid
who

tricks Baba Yaga into eating her own daughters is not so distant from
the

young hero who peremptorily orders her to bring him food and drink,
thus

compelling her to treat him well instead of eating him. I will return to
Baba

Yaga’s role as a child-stealer below.

We see Baba Yaga traveling with her mortar and pestle, stealing chil-

dren and wreaking havoc, but we also see her at the loom. Weaving,
mak-

ing the cloth for clothing, is not just a traditional “female” craft that
follows

after spinning; it is another link with the “women’s” saint Paraskeva

(and
her Friday prohibitions), as well as with images of the Fates as
spinners

xxxvii

Introduction

or weavers. Baba Yaga is sometimes alone in her hut; in other tales

she has

a variety of helpers or companions, the three pairs of disembodied

hands

Vasilisa sees but wisely does not ask about. These recall the hands
that wait

on Beauty in the palace of the Beast. In “Vasilisa the Beautiful,” Baba

Yaga

also commands three riders: a white rider on a white horse, who

represents

dawn, 13 a red rider on a red horse representing the sun,14 and a

black rider on a black horse, for night. In some tales, such as “Prince
Ivan and Beloy

Polyanin,” Baba Yaga has armies and servants who magically create
soldiers

for these armies. Finally, she often has a daughter or daughters.15

The daugh-

ters can vary considerably: sometimes they are stupid girls, like their
mother

tending to come in threes, who obediently follow Yaga’s orders only to

be
baked in her oven and eaten by their own mother, as in “Baba Yaga
and the

Kid.” Even a mean, stupid Baba Yaga never wants to eat her own
children,

and she becomes viciously angry after she is tricked into doing it. In
other

tales, Baba Yaga has a single daughter, a great beauty, who aids the
hero or

heroine and is rewarded for this by escape from Baba Yaga into the
ordi-

nary world and marriage to a hero or a prince, as in “Prince Ivan and

Beloy

Polyanin” or “Prince Danila Govorila.” Helping the hero or heroine

puts the

daughter in danger: aiding them, and thus betraying her mother,

makes her

a stranger to Baba Yaga, an enemy—and so herself liable to be

caught and

devoured. For all these daughters no father is visible; some of the

negative

ones are called Yagishna, ‘daughter of Yaga,’ using the Russian

patronymic

form that is otherwise always based on the f ather’s name, never the
mother’s.

Being the mother of a magical beauty connects Yaga to other magical

par-
ents in Russian wonder tales, such as the Sea King.16

In some tales, Baba Yaga seems to be involved because the mother

is

missing, even if the tale is about a stepmother. In “Prince Danila

Govorila,”

the mother is dead and the heroine in peril, but Baba Yaga’s kind and
lovely

daughter turns out to look just like the heroine, and the magic ring
that

caused all the trouble presumably fits her too (so she can marry the
brother,

saving him and Katerina from the sin of incest). In “Vasilisa the
Beautiful,”

the heroine’s doll, a deathbed gift from her mother, keeps her safe in
Baba

Yaga’s house. Baba Yaga grumbles and tells her to leave (albeit with
the gift

of fire, contained in a fire-eyed skull) once she learns that Vasilisa is

pro-

tected by her mother’s blessing. Vasilisa is as clever as she is

beautiful: she

mentions the blessing but not the doll. Baba Yaga tests girls not only
by

requesting impossible tasks, such as sorting poppy seeds from dirt,

or by de-
manding completion of so many tasks that only a magical doll or help
from

the local mice can accomplish them in the allotted time. She also
makes the

xxxviii

Introduction

girls show that they are proficient at the essential feminine tasks:
cooking,

washing, stoking the fires in stove and bathhouse. Even in a tale

where she

plans to eat the girl, Baba Yaga tells her to sit down and weave in her
place

while she goes to sharpen her teeth. This does in part reflect
traditional

realia, the cruel fact that a peasant girl who did not know how to
weave or

cook or stoke the bathhouse would not bring good fortune to her
family. In

a time and place where the margins for survival could be slim, these
skills

not only made a girl marriageable but could be a matter of life and
death for

her and her family. Baba Yaga is often kinder, or at least more fair,
than the
stepmother who sends her unloved stepdaughter to the witch in
hopes that

she will be eaten or destroyed.

Indeed, Baba Yaga tests peasant virtues: knowledge of the skills of

hus-

bandry and housekeeping, patience, persistence, kindness,

generosity, and

the capacity for hard work, Some scholars suggest that tales of Baba
Yaga

helped young people accept and understand their place in a

traditional cul-

ture, even after the earlier initiation rituals where she played a role
were

abandoned. For young village women especially, marriage meant

entering

a new household and adapting to new household organization, under

the

authority of the mother-in-law. In Russian wonder tales, even royalty

may

need to know basic men’s and women’s skills, and even a tsar’s wife
may

change her fate once she is tempted by a golden spindle that spins
gold

thread or a silver needle that embroiders by itself. Besides that,

heroes and
heroines of the tales must know how to handle Baba Yaga: when to
tell the

truth or to lie, to demand food and drink or to obey her meekly, to

steal

what they need or to stay with her until they have earned it.

So Baba Yaga appears as an initiatrix, a vestigial goddess, a forest

power,

and a mistress of birds or animals. In a hunting culture, like that of old

Russia, all that made her a very important figure. 17 We even see, in
one ver-

sion of the tale “Go I Don’t Know Where and Bring I Don’t Know
What,”

a place where Baba Yaga’s evolving nature may have let one
instance of her

crowd out another: because the lustful general goes to a backstreet

Baba

Yaga for advice, identifying her as both evil and urban, the three old
women

our hero visits on his way cannot also be figures of the Baba Yaga.
The read-

er will notice, though, how similar they are to the triple Baba Yaga in
other

tales. The tales evolve over time, as they are told and retold—another
reason

for the variations in the nature of this character.

Baba Yaga’s link to death is less unsettling if we remember the
constant

place of death in peasant society. Russian peasant girls would tell

fortunes

each spring by making garlands of flowers and tossing them into a

stream.

xxxix
Introduction

Father Frost, by Aleksandr

Rou. Cover of the DVD,

released in 2001, of Alek-

sandr Rou’s Father Frost

aka Jack Frost (Morozko,

1964), loosely based on

several versions of the fairy

tales narrating the ultimate

triumph of a spineless man’s

Cinderella-like sweet, pure

daughter over her nasty step-

mother, imbecilic stepsister,

and the malevolent Baba

Yaga (Afanas’ev’s Jack Frost

[no. 95 and no. 96], Baba

Yaga [no. 102 and no. 103],

Daughter and Stepdaughter

[no. 98]). Abandoned in the

snow-laden forest by her

henpecked sire, the heroine,

Nasten’ka, is saved by Father

Frost and the initially vain

but finally matured Ivan.

Georgii Milliar’s reprisal

of his role as Baba Yaga

contains slapstick moments

intended to defang the lethal

nature of “her” evil machina-

tions. The film contains

miles of snow, the black cat

as Baba Yaga’s magic helper,

the heroine’s loyal dog, a

wise old anthropomorphic

mushroom, a visually capti-

If her garland floated away, the girl would marry that year; if it stuck
on a

vating spell, and a bravura

branch or rock, she would have to wait out that season. If her garland
sank

performance by the impres-

in the water, it meant that the girl would die. Yaga’s role as a
frightening

sive actress Inna Churikova

tester in stories of initiation seems clear enough, and the element of
test-

as the stunningly crude,

greedy stepsister.

ing is strong in many of the tales where a young man or woman finds
his

or her way to Baba Yaga’s hut. In many of the tales, Baba Yaga (or
another

character who fulfills some of her functions) asks the new arrivals
whether

they have come of their own will or by compulsion. The question

could very

well be part of an initiation ritual, though the correct answer varies

from

tale to tale. Propp and others believe that tales about Baba Yaga are
indeed

remnants of initiation rituals for adolescents. This helps to explain

why

so many of the stories end with marriage or with the once separated,
now

matured spouses reunited. Marriage was a crucial moment in

traditional

society, marking the newlyweds as adults, producers of a new

generation,

xl
Introduction

and setting up or bolstering the economic unit of the family, in which

many

traditional tasks were gendered and therefore dependent on the

character

and preparation of the wife or husband. Moreover, the tradition of

wedding

laments suggests that for a young woman marriage could be

tantamount to

death, 18 even if some brides performed the ritual lamentation more

as a way

of keeping off the Evil Eye, to avoid tempting fate by seeming happy
about

the wedding arrangements. Given the strong possibility that she

played a

role in stories of initiation, it is no surprise that today Baba Yaga is

used by

Jungian therapists as a figure of dark, occult knowledge, and her hut

to sym-

bolize a stage on a difficult path. Even now she teaches readers or

listeners

how to win treasure or understanding out of loss, fear, and pain. One
could

argue that in the modern world people pass through many more roles
and
stages and face many tests besides those that prove traditional
readiness for

marriage. Modern encounters with Baba Yaga and what she

represents still

reaffirm our strength, cleverness, and worthiness as adults using

stories in

therapy.

I would argue, though, that the tales show a second important tradi-

tional role for Baba Yaga. She is important not only at the phase of
adoles-

cent initiation, when a young hero or heroine has reached

marriageable age

and must become a fully functioning member of the community, a

member

of the child-bearing generation. Recall that Paraskeva, the saint

whose day

is celebrated just before the end of the old traditional autumn, is a

protector

of women in childbirth. Her precursor Baba Yaga, in her role as a thief

and

presumably devourer of children, may serve to address fears of infant

and

child mortality.

There is no record of anything like an initiation ceremony for a woman

in childbirth, perhaps because the event was already hedged round
with a

huge number of superstitions, spells, and careful practices meant to

keep

the child (and, to a lesser extent, the mother) from harm. Russian
peasant

women traditionally gave birth in the bathhouse—a sensible choice,

since

it was warm, relatively clean, and private, but it was also a place
associated

with Baba Yaga. In times of high infant and child mortality, the
goddess of

the borders of death would necessarily play a part here, too. Indeed,
Baba

Yaga’s role in both types of tales, the “testing” and the “devouring,” is
formally

similar. The child’s passage into adulthood symbolically means the

death

of the child (and a girl’s marriage, in particular, meant leaving her

home

and entering that of her husband’s family, where the mother-in-law

could be

as ill-disposed and unwelcoming as a fairy-tale stepmother). If

adulthood

meant the death of the child, and marriage meant the death of the
maiden,
xli
Introduction

Russian Fairy Tales, showing

the cover of the 1976 edi-

tion compiled by Aleksandr

Afanas’ev, translated by

Norbert Guterman, and

illustrated by Alexander

Alexeieff. The latest reissue

of the standard anthology of

Russian fairy tales, selected

and translated from the

1936–40 three-volume edi-

tion of Afanas’ev’s sizable

collection. Dubbed “the

Russian Grimm,” the lawyer-

cum-ethnographer Afanas’ev

originally published his

compilations from 1855 to

1863. Since then, his name

both in Russia and abroad

has become synonymous

with the genre. This Ameri-

can edition contains two

useful commentaries by one

of Russia’s leading linguists

and literary critics, Roman

Jakobson (1896–1982),

who moved from Moscow

to Prague (1920) and,

after the Germans occupied

Czechoslovakia, immigrated

to the United States (1941).

Publisher: Pantheon Books,

1945. Reissue, 1976.

then childbirth too carries an element of death—the death of the

single hu-

man being and simultaneous birth of both child and mother.

In the stories where Baba Yaga kidnaps a child or has her minions do
so,

the heroine passes through a series of ritual rebirths once she has
taken back

the child. In Khudiakov’s version of “The Brother,” Baba Yaga’s eagle

notices

that the stove that protects the maiden has gotten wider, and asks the
apple
tree, “Why have you, apple tree, gotten so curly, lowered your
branches right

down to the ground?” The tree answers: “The time has come [. . .] I’m
stand-

ing here all fluffy.” The wording, as well as the position of the girl and
baby

concealed beneath the lowered branches, suggests that the tree is

pregnant,

that its “time has come.” Much as the testing tales lead into adulthood
or

marriage, the tales of girls who rescue babies stolen by Baba Yaga
(or her

avian psychopomps) could serve to socialize young mothers in caring

for

xlii

Introduction

new babies, and girls to take care of their own new younger siblings.
In some

of these tales the girl might be seen as representing the new

generation of

parents, while the mother of the stolen child in the tale is her mother,
an

older woman who is nevertheless still young enough to have more

children
of her own, who knows how to keep a child alive in a dangerous
world and

now sends her daughter out to gain this knowledge. The various
“pregnant”

pauses in the narrative where girl and baby hide from pursuit show
the girl

emerging each time reborn as someone better fit to care for a child.
The fact

that the stolen child seems happy and safe with Baba Yaga—playing
with

golden apples or listening to a cat tell a story—suggests that infant

mortal-

ity causes little pain for the infant, though more for the mother and
other

relatives who survive. 19

In tales where Baba Yaga steals an older child, the child (usually a
boy)

must rescue himself. The gleeful description of how he tricks Yaga

into eat-

ing her own daughter or daughters might work magic to make sure it
is

her child who will die, rather than the child of the tale-teller or listener.

This gullible, stupid Baba Yaga is no longer so frightening, and

making her

devour her own child or children throws the fear and risk of death
back
onto her. We are more clever, we can use the magic of our tales to
outwit the

witch and survive into adulthood—where death is what we expect,

rather

than a premature tragedy that impacts the community’s future. Telling

a

child a story about Baba Yaga may scare the child (pleasantly, like
any fright-

ening story, or as a way of compelling better behavior), while at the

same

time it has a prophylactic effect: after all, the very child who listens
could

soon be threatened with death. The story offers a mother or child a

measure

of power over Baba Yaga. In return, it prolongs Baba Yaga’s life and
vividness

in folklore.

Baba Yaga’s birds—geese, swans, eagles—are not just hunting birds.

They are psychopomps who bear a dead person on a soul journey or

a living

person to the other world. Propp argues that no matter where Baba
Yaga’s

house is located (forest; open field; sea shore), it is always at the

border of

the other realm, the realm of death and the afterlife, over thrice-nine
lands
and near the thrice-tenth. The forest lies at the heart of Russian
civiliza-

tion, as it held riches (the honey, wax, and furs that early Slavs traded
along

routes reaching from the Black Sea to Scandinavia) along with

terrors. 20

The open field appears in traditional Russian spells (more properly

called

charms, according to specialists in magic; in Russian, zagovory, or

incanta-

tions, zaklinaniia). The spells frequently begin with the words “I rise
up,

saying a blessing. I go out, crossing myself, and I go to an open

field.” An

xliii

Introduction

empty place where no one can see or hear what one says is the
proper locus

for working magic. Russia’s traditional territory has a seacoast only in

the far

north, on the White Sea—but many cultures have imagined the

afterlife as

located beyond the sea, in the land where the sun sets (see, for
example, the
etymology of Brazil).21

In several of the tales included here, Baba Yaga herself is killed,

baked in

an oven (though sometimes she scratches her way out), or burned up

after

falling into a fiery river. She is strongly associated with fire. Vasilisa
comes to

her house asking for a light, and Yaga sends her back home with a
fire-eyed

skull that incinerates the offending stepmother and stepsisters. As

Propp

points out in his book The Russian Folktale, Baba Yaga is a recurring
folk

figure: if she burns up once, it only means that she no longer

threatens the

characters of that story. She’ll be back in the next one.

The tale “Vasilisa the Beautiful” is unusual and possibly more archaic

than most of the tales in Afanas’ev’s collection. His publication was

based

on an earlier, eighteenth-century edition. The spooky details listed in

the

tale show Baba Yaga as the mistress of time: dawn, sun, and night
are her

servants, and they are physically present in her forest as horsemen,

not only
under her command as abstractions. Other tales mention twelve
stakes with

skulls around her hut; the number suggests twelve months. Her
spinning

hut models the turning of the heavens that causes and measures
time itself.

BABA YAGA I N P OPULAR CULTURE ,

EAST AN D WEST

No doubt intrigued by Baba Yaga’s potent dualities (death/life,

senility/

fertility, destruction/renewal, villainy/benevolence,

masculine/feminine),

young readers today seem as responsive to her magic as previous

genera-

tions. Cultural creators and marketplaces testify to her enduring

power in

the forms of Russian “Palekh” lacquer boxes, dolls and figurines,

carvings,

holiday tree ornaments, children’s storybooks, movies, Web sites,

games,

and music, from the classic Pictures at an Exhibition (part 15, “The
Hut

on Chicken Legs—Baba Yaga”) by Modest Mussorgsky to

compositions

by Norwegian composer and musician Annbjørg Lien and punk-rock

groups in England and Poland. Baba Yaga is a character in the
Runequest/

Gloriantha game, and the accompanying materials provide a

sophisticated

psychological and biographical background to explain why her house

is on

chicken legs and why she is so antisocial despite her many powers.
22 All

xliv
Introduction

The Golden Horns, by

Aleksandr Rou. For the

genre-affirming third time,

Georgii Milliar appears as

Baba Yaga in Aleksandr

Rou’s The Golden Horns

(Zolotye roga, 1972; DVD

2003) aka Baba Yaga, based

on fairy-tale motifs that

include a magical goat, deer,

or stag. The film narrates a

peasant widow’s search for

her twin daughters, whom

Baba Yaga has kidnapped

and magically changed into

beguiling does. The Moon,

Sun, Wind, and do-gooder

deer with golden antlers in

the forest aid the mother’s

quest, which culminates in

a rescue by her son and the

family cat—a counterpart

to Baba Yaga’s feline helper.

This pseudo-animistic world

is replete with a menacing

forest, mushrooms, and

somewhat cutesy effects

clearly targeting a very young

audience.

these prove the continuing attraction and vigorous legacy of the

complex

figure of Baba Yaga.

Baba Yaga is a popular figure in Russian films, especially but not only

animated cartoons. She adds spice to a story, and the stories that
include her

are among the most central of the Russian wonder tale canon.
Documentary

filmmaker Jessica Oreck is now at work with her colleagues on a film

that

will examine the role of the forest in East European cultures,

especially

the mushroom (that ultimate forest treat, and one that until fairly
recently

could not be cultivated); the movie has the working title “The
Vanquishing

of Baba Yaga.” Like the mushroom, sometimes nourishing and

delicious
but also sometimes poisonous, Baba Yaga is an ambiguous presence
in the

Russian forest.

xlv
Introduction

Baba Yaga Vasilisa Dyad

Cloth Doll by Melinda Small

Patterson. Move over, Bar-

bie! Perhaps more terrifying

than Baba Yaga herself is the

West’s adoptive domestica-

tion of her role in Vasilisa

the Beautiful, materialized

in this fussy doll, which won

first place in “Needle Sculpt-

ing” at the Santa Fe Doll Art

Festival in 2000. The Baba

Yaga doll (with pearl beads

for teeth, no less) is but

half of a “dyad doll pattern”

by Patterson that includes

Vasalisa ( sic), who is sup-

posed to hide under Baba

Yaga’s skirt—a union of doll

and Vasilisa that is part of

the West’s enchantment with

the “wild Baba Yaga” and the

“intuition doll.” http://www

.smallwork.com/babayaga

.html.

WHAT OTHER BO OKS SAY ABOUT BABA YAGA

Given her central place in many of the best-loved Russian wonder

tales and

her puzzlingly ambivalent character, it is no wonder that many

scholars

have written about Baba Yaga. I conclude this introduction by

summariz-

ing these works and what they offer for further reading. The short
bibli-

ography at the end of this introduction gives more complete

bibliographic

information about the works that are available in English and a

filmography

of movies and cartoons that involve Baba Yaga.

One might say that Andreas Johns “wrote the book” on Baba Yaga—

Baba Yaga: The Ambiguous Mother and Witch of the Russian

Folktale. (See
the bibliography below for details of publication.) Summarizing and
syn-

thesizing hundreds of tales, he analyzes them as a professional

folklorist and

provides a range of information about the image of Baba Yaga and

the many

variant tales about her. Johns gives clear, well-founded readings of

the tales

without limiting his approach to a single theoretical perspective.

xlvi
Introduction

Baba Yaga by Boris Zvorykin,

early twentieth century.

Engaged in a surreptitious

and enigmatic activity, the

ornamentally inclined émi-

gré artist’s red-nosed Baba

Yaga crouches in the forest

that is her unchallenged

realm. Though her physical

appearance is domesticated,

Zvorykin may intend to

convey her symbolic status

in the cosmic hierarchy by

situating her at the base of

the tree of life, with its roots

underground as part of the

chthonic world. Illustration

by Boris Zvorykin (1872–

1935/1942?).
The prominent Soviet folklorist Vladimir Propp (1895–1970) men-

tions Baba Yaga in several of his works. In his famous Morphology of

the

Folktale (1928), we see Baba Yaga fulfilling the functions of donor,

tester,

and villain, and he discusses her as a picturesque figure in his

Russian

Folktale. Most interestingly, she appears at length in The Historical

Roots

of the Wonder Tale, of which only fragments have been translated

into

English. Propp’s project in Historical Roots is to trace each move of

the

wonder tale (or the “magical tale,” volshebnaia skazka) back to its
origins in

rituals of initiation in primitive East Slavic society. He sees Baba Yaga

as

guardian of the boundary between the world of the living and the
world

of the dead: she gives the questing hero food that allows him or her
to

enter the world of the dead, and often she chases the hero back
across the

boundary as he returns to Rus’, as if to make sure that he will not

remain
prematurely in the realm of death. Propp considers her connections
with

and power over birds and animals a trace of the primitive totemistic
re-

ligion of a hunter/gatherer culture. Baba Yaga also reveals, according

to

Propp, a link to the period in human society when the male role in
repro-

duction was not understood—hence her daughters, or her many

vermin-

children, conceived with no man in sight.

The Soviet reference book Mify narodov mira ( Myths of the Peoples
of the

World) points out Baba Yaga’s connections to analogous West Slavic

figures

(Czech, Polish, Slovak) and her importance in Ukrainian and

Belarusian

folklore. 23 The article on Baba Yaga in Mify narodov mira is written

by Vyacheslav V. Ivanov and Vladimir N. Toporov, prominent Soviet
semiotic

xlvii
Introduction

Baba Yaga Laid an Egg by

Dubravka Ugresˇic´. This

highly inventive, genre-defy-

ing book by one of Croatia’s

most gifted expatriate writers

offers an irreverent gynocen-

tric perspective on sickness,

aging, death, and myths

in Central Europe. Mixing

autobiography, fiction, and

critical commentary, Ugresˇicŕeinterprets the Baba Yaga

myth as a matrix paradigm

for old women and their

potential powers. Publisher:

Grove Press, 2011.

scholars. They identify Baba Yaga as a relic of a priestess from

initiation

rituals, on the one hand, and note her status as an emblematic forest
dweller

on the other.

Robert Bly and Marion Woodman’s book The Maiden Tsar: The

Reunion of Masculine and Feminine gives an extended discussion of

one

of the tales we include here, “The Tsar Maiden” (in their translation,
“The

Maiden Tsar”). Because it includes Baba Yaga, they devote a chapter

to her

in particular. Their discussion places every element of the tale in a

rich con-
text of literary references (not Russian so much as European and
Anglo-

American) and popular culture (perhaps this is the first time Baba
Yaga has

met Bob Dylan?), bringing out the tale’s implications for interpreting
the

universal vagaries of human experience. Bly’s poetic sensibility

sometimes

leads him far afield from the character herself, and his musings on
gender

relations tend to presume that our own society is normative in every

way.

However, the poet and the Jungian therapist progress through the
ideas that

Baba Yaga suggests to them in ways that may provide insight for
readers.

Clarissa Pinkola Estés is a Jungian therapist who writes about a

number

of narratives, including one about Baba Yaga. Her book Women Who
Run

with the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype
treats the

tale of Vasilisa the Beautiful, exploring Baba Yaga’s role as an

underground

xlviii
Introduction

Baba Yaga and Vasilisa the

Brave, Marianna Mayer,

illustrations by Kinuko Y.

Craft. The partnership of

Mayer and the Japanese-

born American Craft has

yielded some unusually

beautiful fairy-tale picture

books for children. Craft’s

impressive illustrations

accompanying Mayer’s

retelling of “Vasilisa the

Beautiful” are meticulously

detailed, vividly ornamented,

and, in the case of Baba

Yaga, appropriately frighten-

ing. Publisher: HarperCol-

lins, 1994.

character, tester, and source of wisdom. Pinkola Estés’s discussion

stresses

the section of the tale involving Baba Yaga rather than the remainder,
where

Vasilisa spins wondrously fine linen cloth and wins the love of the
tsar. 24

Anthropologist Joanna Hubbs, in her book Mother Russia: The

Feminine

Myth in Russian Culture, draws on work by a variety of scholars. As a

strong

and mysterious female figure, Baba Yaga receives a chapter to

herself as well

as frequent mentions in other chapters. Hubbs’s synthetic view of

Baba Yaga
connects her to other narratives or images of female divinity in
Russian ver-

bal and material culture, including the rusalki, the goddess Mokosh,
Moist

Mother Earth, and the later female Christian figures, Mary the Mother
of

God and Saint Paraskeva. To Hubbs, Yaga is a figure of occulted

female

power connected to goddess worship in which every mother was a

priestess

in her own house. Hubbs’s work recalls and cites the works of
archeologist

Marija Gimbutas or the feminist scholar of comparative religion

Barbara

G. Walker.25 Cherry Gilchrist’s recent book Russian Magic: Living

Folk

Traditions of an Enchanted Landscape (2009) gives a detailed and

accessible

introduction to the place of magic in Russia today. Readers interested

in

Baba Yaga because of her resonance with these approaches will find
all these

authors rewarding.

Russian scholar Anna Natal’ia Malakhovskaia’s 2007 book Nasledie

ba-
by-iagi ( The Heritage of Baba Yaga) treats a similar range of topics,
for readers

who know Russian, though only part of her book is devoted to Baba
Yaga.

Like Hubbs, Malakhovskaia concludes her study in the realm of

Russian lit-

erature. Discussing the ancient concepts that underlie the Russian

wonder

tale, she addresses matriarchy and initiation rituals. The larger part of
the

xlix
Introduction

A contemporary use of

Bilibin’s Baba Yaga, individu-

alizing keds for kids. Bilibin’s

Baba Yaga from Vasilisa the

Beautiful is one of many

fairy-tale images imprinted

on children’s shoes, T-shirts,

mugs, and numerous ac-

cessories in the SurLaLune

(French for “On the Moon”)

line. Formerly available from

SurLaLune Ked Shoes (ked

is Russian for sneaker). Sur-

LaLune also had produced

shoes with familiar visuals by

such famous Western fairy-

tale illustrators as Gustave

Doré, Arthur Rackham, and

Walter Crane.

study finds traces of Russian folktales in nineteenth- and twentieth-

century

literature, concentrating in particular on the folk religious elements to

be

found in authors such as Dostoevsky, Platonov, and Valentin

Rasputin. This

book is in fact Malakhovskaia’s second book on Baba Yaga: her first,

a novel,

is entitled Vozvrashchenie k babe-iage ( The Return to Baba-Yaga).

This novel
treats the dilemmas of emigration and the differences between home
and

the West for individual émigrés, set in a kind of magical geography

marked

by traits of Russian folklore.

There are many treatments of Baba Yaga tales for children (some list-

ed in the bibliography below). We can recommend not only Russian

and

North American books on Baba Yaga for adult readers, but also
Dubravka

Ugrešić’s 2008 book Baba Jaga je snijela jaje ( Baba Yaga Laid an
Egg)26 is great fun and quite intellectually rewarding. Ugrešić is one
of the best-known writers today from former Yugoslavia, but before
achieving her cur-

rent international success she became a prominent specialist in

Russian lit-

erature and culture. Baba Yaga Laid an Egg touches on a number of

Yagian

issues: the relationships between daughters and their aging mothers,

the

relationship between writers and their admirers, and the relationship

be-

tween biographical experience and artistic invention. In the book’s

final sec-

tion, Baba Yaga anagrams into a Bulgarian folklorist, and then . . .

Well! We
recommend that you read it.

Introduction

BEYON D WORDS: BABA YAGA I N

ILLUSTRATIONS, FILM S, GRAPHIC NOVELS,

GAMES, AN D OTHER MERCHAN DISE

The illustrations that accompany these stories are crucial

components of

the image of Baba Yaga. Lush images from the late nineteenth and
early

twentieth centuries stylize the aesthetic values of old Russia. They

have be-

come inseparable from the narratives in the Baba Yaga canon,

functioning

not only as graphics, but also as vehicles for promoting products and,
in the

case of the luxurious Palekh lacquer boxes, as products themselves.

More

recently, Baba Yaga has fascinated artists and other creators with the
same

ambiguity that makes her a compelling figure in the tales. Her

appearance
in movies and cartoons, and in graphic novels and computer games,
shows

how much the idea of ancient wisdom—wise enough to change a

hero’s life,

while powerful enough to inspire fear—continues to move our

imagination

today. As I write this, the online footwear vendor Zazzle is offering

“Ivan

Bilibin’s Baba Yaga Shoe,” a sneaker beautifully printed with Bilibin’s

por-

trait of Baba Yaga riding in her pestle, hair flying and a grim
expression, for

only $60.00.

The images in this volume were chosen by Helena Goscilo and

Martin

Skoro, and the descriptive captions by Helena Goscilo will quickly

intro-

duce the reader to the context of this fascinating world.

Sibelan Forrester

Swarthmore, Pennsylvania

August 4, 2012

li

BRIEF BIBLIO GRAPHY FOR

FURTHER READI NG

EDITIONS/TRANSLATIONS OF RUSSIAN FOLKTALES

Afanas’ev, Aleksandr, ed. Russian Fairy Tales. Trans. Norbert

Guterman. New York:

Pantheon Books, 1943, 1973. A selection of tales from Afanas’ev’s

three-volume edition.

Balina, Marina, Helena Goscilo, and Mark Lipovetsky, eds. and trans.
Politicizing Magic:

An Anthology of Russian and Soviet Folktales. Evanston, IL:

Northwestern University

Press, 2005. This volume includes some more recent folktale-related

stories, and the

introductory essays for each section are quite valuable.

Chandler, Robert, ed. Russian Magic Tales from Pushkin to Platanov.

Trans. Robert

Chandler and Elizabeth Chandler, with Sibelan Forrester, Anna

Gunin, and Olga

Meerson. London: Penguin Books, 2012.

Gilchrist, Cherry. Russian Magic: Living Folk Traditions of an

Enchanted Landscape.

Wheaton, IL: Quest Books, 2009.

Haney, Jack, trans. The Complete Russian Folktale in seven

volumes. Armonk, NY: M. E.

Sharpe, 1999–2006. The first complete translation of Afanas’ev’s

tales into English,
organized by theme.

Simonov, Pyotr. Essential Russian Mythology: Stories That Change

the World. London:

Thorsons, 1997. This short volume includes versions of some

legends and epic songs as

well as folktales.

OTHER WORKS ON BABA YAGA; USEFUL BO OKS ON

WITCHCRAFT

Ankarloo, Ben, and Gustav Henningsen, eds. Early Modern European

Witchcraft: Centres

and Peripheries. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1990.

Bly, Robert, and Marion Woodman. The Maiden King: The Reunion of
Masculine and

Feminine. New York: Henry Holt and Company, 1998.

Hubbs, Joanna. Mother Russia: The Feminine Myth in Russian

Culture. Bloomington, IN:

Indiana University Press, 1988.

Ivanits, Linda. Russian Folk Belief. Armonk, NY: M. E. Sharpe, 1989.

Johns, Andreas. Baba Yaga: The Ambiguous Mother and Witch of the
Russian Folktale. New

York: Peter Lang, 2004.

Maxwell-Stuart, P. G. Witchcraft in Europe and the New World, 1400–

1800. Houndmills,

Basingstoke: Palgrave, 2001.

Pinkola Estés, Clarissa. Women Who Run with the Wolves: Myths
and Stories of the Wild

Woman Archetype. New York: Ballantine Books, 1992.

lii

Brief Bibliography for Further Reading

Propp, Vladimir. Morphology of the Folktale. Trans. Laurence Scott.

Austin: University of

Texas Press, 1968.

Propp, Vladimir. The Russian Folktale. Trans. Sibelan Forrester.

Detroit, MI: Wayne State

University Press, 2012.

Ralston, W. R. S. The Songs of the Russian People: As Illustrative of

Slavonic Mythology and

Russian Social Life. London: Ellis & Green, 1872.

Sokolov, Y. M. Russian Folklore. Trans. Catherine Ruth Smith.

Hatboro, PA: Folklore

Associates, 1966.

Ugrešić, Dubravka. Baba Yaga Laid an Egg, translated by Ellen Elias-

Bursać, Celia

Hawkesworth, and Mark Thompson. New York: Cannongate, 2009.

TALES FOR CHILDREN

Arnold, Katya. Baba Yaga: A Russian Folktale. New York: North-
South Books, 1993.

Arnold, Katya. Baba Yaga and the Little Girl: A Russian Folktale. New
York: Norh-South

Books, 1994.

Kimmel, Eric A., and Megan Lloyd. Baba Yaga: A Russian Folktale.
New York: Holiday

House, 1991.

Lurie, Alison, and Jessica Souhami. The Black Geese: A Baba Yaga
Story from Russia. New

York: DK Publishers, 1999.

Marshall Carey, Bonnie. Baba Yaga’s Geese, and Other Russian

Stories. Bloomington:

Indiana University Press, 1973.

Mayer, Marianna, and Kinuko Craft. Baba Yaga and Vasilisa the
Brave. New York:

Morrow Junior Books, 1994.

McCaughrean, Geraldine, and Moira Kemp. Grandma Chickenlegs.

Minneapolis, MN:

Carolrhoda Books, 2000.

Oram, Hiawyn, and Ruth Brown. Baba Yaga and the Wise Doll: A
Traditional Russian

Folktale. New York: Dutton Children’s Books, 1998. 1997.

Polacco, Patricia. Babushka Baba Yaga. New York: Philomei, 1993.
(for children)

Small, Ernest, and Blair Lent. Baba Yaga. Boston: Houghton Mifflin,
1966.

FILMO GRAPHY

 WITH THAN KS TO JACK ZIPES

Jack Frost (Morozko, 1964)

Director: Aleksandr Rou

Russian, live-action film (84 minutes)

The Golden Horns (Zolotye roga, 1972)

Director: Aleksandr Rou

Russian, live-action film (74 minutes)

Baba Yaga (1973)

Director: Corrado Farina

Italian, live-action film (91 minutes)

liii

Brief Bibliography for Further Reading

Baba Yaga Is Against! (Baba Yaga protiv!, 1979)

Director: Vladimir Pekar

Russian, animated film (26 minutes)

The Little Dragon and the Old Witch (Malkiyat smey i Baba Yaga,
1985)

Director: Slav Balakov

Bulgarian, animated film (6 minutes)

Babka Yozhka and Others (Babka Yozhka i drugie, 2006)

Director: Valery Ugarov

Russian, animated film (70 minutes)

Emily and the Baba Yaga (2005)

Director: Clive Tronge

UK, animated film (10 minutes)

liv
Tales of Baba Yaga

Baba Yaga by Rima Staines, the young British painter, clockmaker,

illustrator, and storyteller, who here clearly models her style on those
of such classic Russian illustrators as Vasnetsov and Bilibin. Her
creative violation of proportions, however, transforms Baba Yaga into
a fi gure physically

dominating the landscape, and her hut into an enlarged chicken-

legged mailbox. http://www.intothehermitage.blogspot.com/.
Dancing Baba Yaga by Ivan

Bilibin (1908). The extraordinary

Terpsichorean Baba Yaga flies and

rides in the tales, but generally

abjures dance, though an early

lubok (popular woodcut print)

also shows her capering to the

accompaniment of a bagpipe

(see image #52). Here the angle

of her preternaturally long arms

suggests the boniness that is one

of her salient features, while the

festive red of her nose substitutes

for its inordinate size. The tales

repeatedly emphasize how her

proboscis, sometimes unhygieni-

cally dripping snot, extends to the

ceiling. Illustration by Ivan Bilibin

(1876–1942).
Baba Yaga I

Once upon a time there lived a husband and wife,

and they had a daughter. The wife up and died. The

man married another woman and had a daughter

with her, too. That wife took a dislike to her step-

daughter; the poor thing had no kind of life at all.

The man thought and thought about it and

took his daughter into the woods. As they were

driving through the woods, he looked and saw a

little house standing on chicken legs. Then the man said, “Little
house, little

house, stand with your back to the woods and your front to me.” The
house

turned around.
The man went into the house, and there inside was Baba Yaga, head
fac-

ing straight ahead, one leg in one corner, one leg in the other.
“There’s a smell

of something Russian!” said Yaga.

The man bowed to her and said, “Baba Yaga, bony leg! I’ve brought
my

daughter to serve you.”

“Well, all right! Serve me, serve me,” said Yaga to the girl. “I’ll reward

you for it.”

The father said good-bye to her and went home. And Baba Yaga
ordered

the girl to spin stuff from the basket, stoke the stove, and prepare
some of

everything to eat, while she herself went out.

The girl started to work at the stove, but she was crying bitterly. Little

mice ran out and said to her, “Maiden, fair maiden, what are you
crying for?

Give us some porridge, and we’ll tell you something good.” She gave
them

some porridge. “Here’s what you need to do,” they said. “You spin
one thread

on each spindle.”
Baba Yaga came home: “So then,” she said, “have you prepared
some of

everything?”

But the girl had everything ready. “Well then, come on—give me a

wash in the bathhouse.” Yaga praised the girl and gave her all kinds
of fancy

clothes.

Baba Yaga I

Yaga went out again and assigned her even more difficult tasks. The
girl

began to cry again. The little mice ran out and said, “What are you
crying

for, lovely maiden? Give us some porridge, and we’ll give you some
good

advice.” She gave them some porridge, and once again they told her
what to

do and how.

Baba Yaga came back again, praised her and gave her even more
nice

clothes . . . After a while, the stepmother sent the man to see whether
his

daughter was alive.

Off the man went. He drove up to the house and saw that his
daughter

had become very rich. The Yaga was not at home, so he took his
daughter

home with him.

They drove toward their village, and the little dog at home couldn’t
keep

quiet. “Woof, woof, woof! A lady is coming, a lady is coming!”

The stepmother ran out and let the doggie have it with a rolling pin.

“You’re lying,” she shouted. “Say that bones are rattling in the
basket!”

But the dog kept on saying what it wanted. They came to the house.
The

stepmother started to pester her husband to take her own daughter

there,

too. So the man took her off into the woods.

Baba Yaga assigned her some work and went out. The girl was
beside

herself with disappointment and started to cry. The little mice ran out
and

said, “Maiden, maiden! What are you crying for?”

But she didn’t even let them finish speaking. She went after one and

then another with the rolling pin. She kept on chasing them, and she
didn’t
do the work she was supposed to. Yaga came home and got angry.
The same

thing happened a second time, so Yaga broke her up into pieces and
put her

bones in a box.

The mother sent her husband to go pick up her daughter. When the

father got there, he found only bones to take away.

As he drove toward the village, the little dog started barking again on

the porch: “Woof, woof, woof! They’re bringing bones in a box!”

The stepmother ran out with the rolling pin. “You’re lying,” she
shouted.

“Say a lady is coming!”

But the doggie kept on repeating: “Woof, woof, woof! The bones are

rattling in the box!”

The husband got home, and then the wife really started howling! For

you there’s a tale, and for me a cup of ale.

(Afanas’ev, no. 102)

4
Baba Yaga II

Once there lived an old man and his wife. The old

man’s wife died and he took another wife, but he had

a little girl from his first wife. The evil stepmother

did not like her. She beat her and thought about how

to get rid of her once and for all.

Once the father went away somewhere, and the

stepmother said to the girl, “Go see your aunt, my sis-

ter, and ask her for a needle and thread to sew a shirt

for you.” But this aunt was a Baba Yaga, bony-leg.

The girl wasn’t stupid, so she stopped by to see her own aunt first.

“Hello, Auntie!”

“Hello, my dear! Why are you here?”

“Mother’s sent me to her sister to ask for a needle and thread to sew
a

shirt for me.”

The aunt told her what to do. “My dear niece, a birch tree there will

whip you in the eyes—you tie it back with a ribbon. The gate there will

squeak and slam—you pour some oil under its hinges. The dogs
there will

tear at you—you toss them some bread. The tomcat there will scratch
at

your eyes—you give him some ham.”

The girl set off. She walked and walked, and she got there.

A hut was standing there, and Baba Yaga, bony-leg, was sitting
inside

and waiting.

“Hello, Auntie!”

“Hello, my dear!”

“Mother sent me to ask you for a needle and thread to sew me a

shirt.”

“Good; sit down for a moment and weave.”

The girl sat down there at the loom. But Baba Yaga went out and said

to her maidservant, “Go, heat up the bathhouse and wash my niece,

and be

sure to do a good job. I want to have her for breakfast.”

5

Baba Yaga II

The girl sat there neither dead nor alive, all terrified. She begged the

maidservant, “My dear girl! Don’t light the wood as much as you pour
on

the water, and carry the water in a sieve,” and she gave her a
handkerchief.

Baba Yaga was waiting. She walked over to the window and asked,
“Are

you weaving, little niece, are you weaving, my dear?”

“I’m weaving, Auntie! I’m weaving, dear!”

Baba Yaga moved away again, and the girl gave the tomcat some
ham

and asked him, “Is there any way to get out of here?”

“Here are a comb and a towel for you,” said the cat. “Take them and
run

away. Baba Yaga will chase after you. You put your ear to the ground,
and

when you hear that she’s close, throw down the towel first—it will turn
into

a wide, wide river. If Baba Yaga crosses the river and starts to catch
up with
you, you put your ear to the ground again, and when you hear that
she’s

close, throw the comb—it will turn into a thick, thick forest. She won’t
be

able to get through it!”

The girl took the towel and the comb and ran out. The dogs wanted

to tear at her; she threw them some bread, and they let her pass. The
gate

wanted to slam on her; she poured some oil under the hinges, and it
let

her pass. The birch tree wanted to lash her eyes out; she tied it back
with a

ribbon, and it let her pass. And the cat sat down at the loom and
started to

weave. He didn’t weave as much as he tangled things. Baba Yaga

came over

to the window and asked, “Are you weaving, my little niece, are you
weaving,

my dear?”

“I’m weaving, Auntie! I’m weaving, dear!” the tomcat answered in a

hoarse voice.

Baba Yaga raced into the hut, saw that the girl had run away, and
started

beating and scolding the tomcat. Why hadn’t he scratched the girl’s
eyes out?
“I’ve been serving you for so long,” said the tomcat. “You’ve never
even

given me a bone, but she gave me some ham.”

Baba Yaga threw herself at the dogs, on the gates, on the birch tree,
and

on the maidservant. She started scolding each one and pounding

them.

The dogs told her, “We’ve been serving you so long, and you’ve
never

thrown us a burned crust, but she gave us some bread.”

The gate said, “I’ve been serving you for so long, and you’ve never
even

poured water under my hinges, but she poured some oil.”

The birch tree said, “I’ve been serving you so long, and you’ve never
tied

me up with a thread, but she tied me up with a ribbon.”

The maidservant said, “I’ve been serving you for so long, and you’ve

never given me a rag, but she gave me a handkerchief.”

6
Baba Yaga II

Steam Powered Baba Yaga of

the Future, also described by

its creator, the young Bulgar-

ian artist Aleksandr Nanitch-

kov aka Inca/Artofinca, as

Baba Yaga—steam punked.

Like most contemporary

concepts of Baba Yaga, this

one strives for original-

ity and humor through

temporal and physical recon-

textualization. Illustration

by Aleksandr Nanitchkov.

http://tsabo6.deviantart.

com/www.artofinca.com.

Baba Yaga, the bony-leg, sat right down in her mortar, pushed along

with a pestle, swept the tracks away with a broom, and set off to
chase the

girl. The girl put her ear to the ground and heard Baba Yaga chasing
her and

already getting close. She up and threw the towel. It turned into a
river so

wide, so wide!
Baba Yaga came to the river and her teeth squeaked with malice.
She

went back home, got her bulls, and drove them to the river. The bulls
drank

the whole river dry.

Baba Yaga set off again in pursuit. The girl put her ear to the ground

and heard that Baba Yaga was close. She threw the comb, and it
turned into

a forest so thick and terrible! Baba Yaga started to chew it, but no
matter

how she tried she couldn’t chew through it, so she went back home.

Baba Yaga II

But the old man had already come back, and he asked, “Where on
earth

is my daughter?”

“She went to her aunt’s,” the stepmother answered.

A little later the girl herself ran up to the house. “Where were you?”

asked her father.

“Oh, Dad!” she said. “It was like this. Mother sent me to my aunt’s to
ask
for a needle and thread to sew me a shirt, but my aunt is a Baba
Yaga, and

she wanted to eat me.”

“How did you get away, daughter?”

“Like this,” and the girl told him the story.

When the old man found out all about it, he got angry at his wife and

shot her. But he and his daughter went on living and living well and
earning

riches. And I was there, I drank mead and beer: it flowed down my
mus-

tache, but didn’t go in my mouth.

(Afanas’ev, no. 103)

Baba Yaga and the Kid

Once there lived a tomcat, a sparrow, and a young

man made three. The tomcat and the sparrow went

to cut wood, and they said to the kid, 1 “You look

after the house, but watch out. If Baba Yaga comes

and starts counting the spoons, don’t say any-

thing—be quiet!”

“All right,” said the kid.

The tomcat and the sparrow left, and the kid climbed up on the stove

and sat behind the stovepipe. Suddenly a Baba Yaga appeared,

picked up the

spoons, and started counting: “This is the tomcat’s spoon, this is the
spar-

row’s spoon, and the third one is the kid’s.”

The kid couldn’t bear it, and he shouted, “Baba-yaga, don’t you touch

my spoon!”

Baba Yaga grabbed the kid, got into her mortar, and rode off. She
rode

in the mortar, pushed along2 with the pestle, and swept away her
tracks with

a broom.

The kid started to yell, “Run, cat! Fly, sparrow!”

They heard him, and they came running. The cat scratched Baba
Yaga
while the sparrow pecked her, and they took the kid away from her.

The next day they were getting ready to go into the forest again to cut

wood, and they told the kid, “Watch out! If Baba Yaga comes, don’t
say any-

thing. This time we’re going far away.”

No sooner had the kid settled down behind the stovepipe than the

Baba Yaga appeared again and started to count the spoons. “This is
the cat’s

spoon, this is the sparrow’s spoon, and this one is the kid’s.”

The kid couldn’t bear it, and he shouted, “Don’t you touch my spoon,

Baba Yaga!”

The Yaga-baba grabbed the kid and dragged him outside, but the kid

shouted, “Cat, sparrow, help!”

9
Baba Yaga and the Kid

Baba Yaga and Her Hut by

Aleksandr Alexeieff. Illustra-

tion from Russian Fairy Tales

by Aleksandr Afanas’ev

and illustrated by Alexan-

der Alexeieff, translated by

Norbert Guterman, copyright

1945 by Pantheon Books and

renewed 1973 by Random

House, Inc.

10

Baba Yaga and the Kid

They heard him and came running; the tomcat scratched, the sparrow

pecked at the Yaga-baba! They got the kid away from her and went
back

home.

On the third day they got ready to go into the forest to cut wood, and

they said to the kid, “Watch out! If the Yaga-baba comes, keep quiet.
We’re
going far away now.”

The tomcat and the sparrow left, and the third one, the kid, took a
seat

on the stove behind the pipe. Suddenly the Yaga-baba took the
spoons again

and started counting: “This is the cat’s spoon, this is the sparrow’s
spoon,

and the third one’s the kid’s.”

The kid kept quiet.

The Yaga-baba started to count a second time: “This is the cat’s

spoon,

this is the sparrow’s spoon, and the third one’s the kid’s.”

The kid kept quiet.

The Yaga-baba counted a third time: “This is the cat’s spoon, this is
the

sparrow’s spoon, the third one’s the kid’s.”

The kid couldn’t bear it. He started to bellow, 3 “Don’t you touch my

spoon, you slut!”

Yaga-baba grabbed the kid and dragged him away.

The kid shouted, “Run, cat! Fly, sparrow!” But his brothers didn’t hear
him.

Yaga-baba dragged the kid home, put him in the stove-box, 4 stoked
the
stove herself, and said to her eldest daughter, “So, girl! I’m going to
Rus’. You

roast up this kid for my lunch.”

“All right!” her daughter answered.

The stove got nice and hot. The girl ordered the kid to come out. The

kid came out, and the girl said, “Lie down in the pan!”5

The kid lay down, stuck one leg up toward the ceiling and the other

down toward the floor. 6

The girl said, “Not that way, not that way!”

The kid said, “Then how? You go ahead and show me.”

The girl lay down on the pan.

The kid didn’t lose his nerve. He grabbed the oven-fork and shoved
the

pan with Yaga’s daughter right into the stove. He went back into the
stove-

box and sat there waiting for the Yaga-baba.

All at once Yaga-baba came running and said, “I want to roll, I want to

loll around on the kid’s bones!”

But the kid answered her, “Roll around, loll around on your own
daugh-

ter’s bones!”

11
Baba Yaga and the Kid

The Brave Youth by Alek-

sandr Alexeieff. Illustration

from RUSSIAN FAIRY TALES

by Aleksandr Afanas’ev

and illustrated by Alexan-

der Alexeieff, translated by

Norbert Guterman, copyright

1945 by Pantheon Books and

renewed 1973 by Random

House, Inc. Used by permis-

sion of Pantheon Books, a

division of Random House,

Inc.

Yaga-baba gasped and took a peek: it was her daughter who’d been

roasted. She shouted, “Oh! You scoundrel, just you wait! You won’t
get out

of this one!” She ordered her middle daughter to roast the kid, and
she left.

The middle daughter stoked the stove and told the kid to come out.
The

kid came out, lay down in the pan, stuck one foot up toward the
ceiling and

the other down toward the floor. The girl said, “Not like that! Not like
that!”

“Then show me how.”

The girl lay down in the roasting pan. The kid up and shoved her into

the stove, went back into the stove-box, and there he sat.

All at once Yaga-baba ran in: “I want to roll, I want to loll around on
the

kid’s bones!”
He answered, “Roll around, loll around on your daughter’s bones!”

Yagishna was furious: “Eh, just wait,” she said, “you won’t get away
from

me!” She ordered her youngest daughter to roast him. But nothing
doing—

the kid cooked that one, too!

Yaga-baba got even angrier. “Just wait,” she said, “you won’t get
away

from me!” She stoked the stove and shouted, “Come out, kid! Lie
down

there on the roasting pan.”

The kid lay down, stuck one leg up toward the ceiling, the other
toward

the floor, and wouldn’t fit into the oven.7

Yaga-baba said, “Not like that! Not like that!”

But the kid acted as if he didn’t know: “I don’t know how to do it,” he

said. “You show me!”

12
Baba Yaga and the Kid

Baba Yaga’s Hut by Alek-

sandr Alexeieff. Illustration

from RUSSIAN FAIRY TALES

by Aleksandr Afanas’ev and

illustrated by Alexander Alex-

eieff, translated by Norbert

Guterman, copyright 1945

by Pantheon Books and

renewed 1973 by Random

House, Inc. Used by permis-

sion of Pantheon Books, a

division of Random House,

Inc.

Yaga-baba lay right down and curled up on the pan.

The kid never hesitated. He went and shoved her into the stove. He

ran home, went in, and told his brothers, “Let me tell you what I did to
the

Yaga-baba.”

(Afanas’ev, no. 106)

13
Baba-Yaga and the Runt

There lived a man and a woman who had no children.

No matter what they did, no matter how they prayed

to God, the old woman still didn’t bear any children.

One day the man went into the woods to get mush-

rooms. On the road he ran into a very old man. “I know

what’s in your thoughts,” he said. “You keep thinking

about children. Go through the village, collect one egg

from every household, and put a brood hen to sit on

those eggs. You’ll see for yourself what happens!”

The old man went back to the village. There were forty-one
households

in their village, so he went around all of them, took an egg from each,
and

put a brood hen on the forty-one eggs.

Two weeks passed. The old man took a look, the old woman took a

look, too, and they saw that the eggs had hatched out a lot of boys.
There

were forty strong, healthy ones, but one hadn’t turned out so well—he
was

puny and weak! The old man started to give names to the boys. He
gave

names to all of them, but there were no names left for the last one.
“Well,” he

said, “you can be called Runt!” 8

The old man and old woman’s children grew. They grew not by the
day

but by the hour. They grew up and started to work, to help their father
and

mother. The forty fine lads were busy in the field, while Runt looked
after

things at home. It got to be time for haymaking, and the brothers

mowed

the grass, put up haystacks, worked for a week, and then came back
to the

village. They ate whatever God had sent and lay down to sleep. The
old man

looked and said, “Young and green! They eat a lot, and they sleep
soundly,

but they haven’t done any work!”

“First, you go out and take a look, Dad!” Runt answered him.

The old man put on his jacket and went out to the meadows. He
looked,

and there were forty haystacks raked together. “Aye, the boys are
good lads!

They mowed so much in one week and raked it all into stacks.”

The next day the father got ready to go to the meadows again, since
he

14

Baba-Yaga and the Runt

Mike Mignola, Hellboy, Vol.

3: The Chained Coffin and

Others (2004). Dark Horse;

2nd edition 2004, page 37.

Hellboy: The Chained Coffin

and Others™ © 2011 Mike

Mignola.

wanted to admire his goods. He got there, and it seemed that one of
the

stacks was missing! He went back home and said, “Ah, children! Did
you

know that one stack has disappeared?”

“Don’t worry, Dad!” answered Runt. “We’ll catch the thief. Give me a

hundred rubles, and I’ll do it.” He took a hundred rubles from his
father and

went to the blacksmith. “Can you forge me a chain long enough to

wrap a

person from head to foot?”

“Why wouldn’t I be able to forge it?”

“Be careful, make it plenty strong. If the chain holds I’ll pay you a hun-

dred rubles, but if it snaps you’ve wasted your labor!”

The blacksmith forged an iron chain; Runt wrapped it around himself,

stretched, and the chain snapped. The blacksmith made another

twice as
strong, and that one was good. Runt took this chain, paid the hundred

rubles, and went to guard the hay. He sat down under one of the
haystacks

and waited.

At the stroke of midnight the weather changed, the sea grew rough,
and

a marvelous mare came out of the depths of the sea. She ran up to
the first

haystack and started to devour the hay. Runt jumped out, bridled her
with

the iron chain, and jumped up on her back. The mare started bucking,
carry-

ing him over hill and dale, but no, she wasn’t strong enough to shake
off the

rider! She stopped and said to him, “Well, good lad! Since you’ve
managed to

keep your seat on me, then you must take my foals and break them.”

15
Baba-Yaga and the Runt

Mike Mignola, Hellboy,

Vol. 3: The Chained Coffin

and Others (2004). Dark

Horse; 2nd edition, page 40.

Hellboy: The Chained Coffin

and Others™ © 2011 Mike

Mignola.

The mare ran up to the blue sea and neighed loudly. Then the blue
sea

grew rough and forty-one stallions came out on the shore, each more
hand-

some than the last! You could go through the whole world and never
find

the likes of them anywhere! In the morning the old man heard
neighing

and stamping in the yard. What could it be? But it was his son Runt,
who

had driven the whole herd home. “Hi there, brothers!” he said. “Now
there’s

a horse for each of us. Let’s ride together to find brides for ourselves!”

“Let’s go!” Their father and mother gave them their blessing, and the

brothers set out on the long road.

They rode for a long time through the white world, but where could

they find so many brides? They didn’t want to get married separately,
so

that no one’s feelings would be hurt, but what mother can brag that
she
had forty-one daughters at a time? The fine lads rode over thrice-nine
lands

and came upon a palace of white stone on a steep mountain,

surrounded

with a high wall, with iron columns placed at the gates. They counted,
and

there were forty-one pillars. So they fastened their forty-one bogatyr

horses

to those pillars and went into the courtyard. A Baba Yaga met them
there.

16
Baba-Yaga and the Runt

Mike Mignola, Hellboy, Vol. 3:

The Chained Coffin and Others

(2004), page 38. A comics

panel by the American artist/

writer Mignola in his highly

successful horror-cum-fantasy

series titled Hellboy. The old

witch in a mortar with pestle,

blatantly modeled on Baba

Yaga, follows her Russian pre-

decessor’s example by press-

ing an animated skeleton into

service. Hellboy: The Chained

Coffin and Others™ © 2011

Mike Mignola.

“Ah, you, uncalled and uninvited! How dare you hitch your horses
without

permission?”

“Well, old woman! What are you shouting for? First give us something

to eat and drink, take us to the bathhouse, then afterward ask us for
news.”

Baba Yaga fed them, gave them something to drink, took them to the

bathhouse, and then started to ask them: “What is it, good lads? Are
you

doing a deed or fleeing a deed?”

“We’re doing a deed, grandmother!”

“What is it you need?”

“Why, we’re looking for brides.”

“I have daughters,” said Baba Yaga. She ran into the high chambers
and

brought out forty-one maidens.

They got engaged right away and began to drink, to celebrate and
hold

the wedding. In the evening Runt went to look in on his horse. His
good

horse saw him and spoke up in a human voice, “Look out, master!
When

you lie down to sleep with your young wives, dress them in your
clothes, and

put on your wives’ clothes yourselves. Otherwise we’ll all be lost!”

Runt told

17
Baba-Yaga and the Runt

Mike Mignola, Hellboy, Vol. 3:

The Chained Coffin and Oth-

ers (2004). Dark Horse; 2nd

edition, page 38. Hellboy:

The Chained Coffin and Oth-

ers™ © 2011 Mike Mignola.

this to his brothers, and so they decked the young wives out in their
clothes,

put on the wives’ clothes themselves, and then lay down to sleep.
They all
fell asleep, but Runt didn’t close an eye. At the stroke of midnight
Baba

Yaga shouted loudly, “Hey, you, my faithful servants, cut the wild
heads off

these uninvited guests!” Her faithful servants came running and cut
off the

wild heads of Baba Yaga’s own daughters. Runt woke up his brothers
and

told them everything that had happened. They took the heads and
stuck

them on the iron spikes around the wall, then saddled their horses
and

rode off in haste.

In the morning Baba Yaga got up, looked out the window—and all

around the wall her daughters’ heads were stuck on the spikes. She
was hor-

ribly angry, ordered her fiery shield, rode off in pursuit, and started
shooting

fire from the shield in all four directions. Where could the fine lads
hide

themselves? Ahead of them was the blue sea, behind them was
Baba Yaga,

burning and shooting. They could all have died, but Runt had a good
idea.

He had thought to take a handkerchief from Baba Yaga, and he

waved that
kerchief in front of him. Suddenly a bridge appeared that stretched
across

the whole blue sea. The fine lads rode across it to the other side.
Runt waved

the handkerchief in the other direction and the bridge disappeared.

Baba

Yaga went back, and the brothers rode off for home. 9

(Afanas’ev, no. 105)

18

Finist the Bright Falcon II

Once there lived an old man and an old woman. They

had three daughters; the youngest was such a beauty

that it can’t be told in a tale or written down by a pen.

Once the old man was getting ready to go to the

city for the market and he said, “My gracious daugh-

ters! Whatever you wish, give me your orders—I’ll

buy everything at the market.”

The eldest asked, “Buy me a new dress, Father.”

The middle one said, “Buy me a shawl kerchief, Father.”

But the youngest said, “Buy me a little scarlet flower. ”10

The father laughed at the youngest daughter. “And what, silly little
thing,

do you need a little scarlet flower for? A great lot of good it would do
you.

I’d do better to buy you fancy clothes.”

Only, no matter what he said, he couldn’t persuade her at all. “Buy a

little scarlet flower”—and that was all she wanted.

The old man set off for the market. He bought his eldest daughter a

dress and the middle one a shawl kerchief, but he couldn’t find a little
scarlet

flower in the whole city. He was already at the very gate of the city
when

he happened to meet an old man he didn’t know, who was carrying a

little

scarlet flower in his hands. “Sell me your flower, old man!”

“It’s not for sale; it’s special. 11 If your youngest daughter will marry
my
son, Finist the bright falcon, then I’ll give you the flower for nothing.”
The

father sank into thought: not taking the flower would cause his
daughter

grief, but taking it would mean having to marry her off, and God
knows to

whom. He thought and thought, and finally he took the little scarlet
flower,

after all. “It’s not a misfortune,” he thought. “He’ll come courting later
on,

and if he’s no good then we can turn him down!”

The old man came home and gave his eldest daughter the dress and
his

middle daughter the shawl kerchief, but he gave the youngest one the
little

flower and said, “Your flower doesn’t please me, my dear daughter,
doesn’t

19

Finist the Bright Falcon II

please me at all!” And he whispered in her ear, “You know, the flower
was

special, not for sale. I got it from an old stranger on the condition that
I

marry you to his son, Finist the bright falcon.”

“Don’t grieve, Father,” answered the daughter. “He’s so good and
affec-

tionate. He flies as a bright falcon through the sky, but as soon as he

strikes

the damp earth—then he turns into a fine young man!”

“Can it be that you know him?”

“I know him, I know him, Father! Last Sunday he was at church, he

kept looking at me, and I spoke with him . . . you know, he loves me,
Father!”

The old man shook his head, looked closely at his daughter, made
the

sign of the cross over her, and said, “Go to your room, my dear
daughter!

It’s already bedtime. Morning’s wiser than the evening. We’ll make
sense of

it all later.”

But the daughter locked herself in her room, put the little scarlet
flower

into water, opened the window, and looked out into the blue distance.

Out of nowhere, there before her appeared Finist the bright falcon,
with

jeweled feathers. He swooped in through the window, struck the floor,

and

turned into a fine lad. At first the girl was frightened, but then, once he
began to talk with her, she felt ever so merry and good. They
conversed until

dawn, I don’t know what about.

I only know that when it began to get light Finist the bright falcon with

the jeweled feathers kissed her and said, “Every night, as soon as
you put the

little scarlet flower on the windowsill, I’ll come to you, my dear! And
here’s

a feather for you from my wing. If you need any kind of fine clothes,
go out

on the porch and just wave the feather to the right. In an instant
everything

your soul might desire will appear right in front of you!” He kissed her
once

more, turned into a bright falcon, and flew away over the dark forest.

The girl watched her intended leave, closed the window, and lay
down

to rest. From then on every night, as soon as she put the little scarlet
flower

in the open window, the fine lad Finist the bright falcon would come
flying

to her.

Sunday came, and the older sisters began to dress up for church.
“And
what will you put on? You have nothing new!” they said to the
youngest one.

She said, “That’s all right, I can pray at home, too!”

The older sisters went off to mass, but the little one sat by the
window,

all smudged, and looked at the Orthodox people going to God’s

church.

She waited long enough for them to pass, went out on the porch,
waved

the jeweled feather to the right, and from out of nowhere a crystal
carriage

20

Finist the Bright Falcon II

appeared before her, with a team of matching horses, and a servant

in gold,

dresses and all kinds of ornaments made of brightly colored jewels.

The fair maiden got herself dressed in a minute, got into the carriage,

and hurried off to church. The people looked and marveled at her
beauty.

“You can see that some kind of princess has come!” the people said
among

themselves. When she heard the service drawing to an end,12 she

left the
church right away, got in the carriage, and rode off home. The
Orthodox

people came outside, hoping to get a look and see where she was
going, but

there was no sign of her! Her tracks had cooled long ago. No sooner
had

our beauty driven up to the porch of her house than she waved the
jeweled

feather to the left. In no time the servant helped her take off the
splendid

dress, and the carriage disappeared. She was sitting there just as
before, as

if nothing at all had happened, looking out the window at the

Orthodox

people scattering to their homes.

Her sisters came home, too. “Well, sister!” they said. “What a beauty

there was at mass in the church! A real pleasure to see, no tale could
tell it

and no pen could write it down! It must have been a queen from
foreign

lands who came visiting. She was just magnificent, all dressed up!”

A second Sunday came, and a third. The fair maiden kept teasing the

Orthodox people, her own sisters, and her father and mother. Then
once,
when she was taking off her fine clothes, she forgot to take a
diamond pin

out of her hair. Her older sisters came from the church and were
telling her

about the beautiful princess, when they took a look at their little sister,
and

the diamond was just blazing in her plaits. “Ah, sister! What do you
have

there?” cried the girls. “Why, the princess today had exactly that kind
of pin

in her hair. Where did you get it?”

The fair maiden gasped and ran off to her bedroom. There was no
end

to the questions, guesses, and whispering back and forth. But the
youngest

sister kept quiet and laughed to herself.

Then the older sisters started paying close attention to her, listening

at night outside her bedroom, and once they heard her conversation
with

Finist the bright falcon. At dawn they saw him with their own eyes as
he

shot out of the window and flew off over the dark forest. They were
evil

girls, it seems, the two big sisters. They decided to hide knives on the
win-
dow of their sister’s chamber in the evening so that Finist the bright
falcon

would cut his jeweled wings.

Once they got the idea, they did it, while the younger sister didn’t sus-

pect anything. She put her little scarlet flower on the windowsill, lay
back on

21
Finist the Bright Falcon II
Baba Yaga’s hut. That Baba

Yaga’s hut in the forest repre-

sents a paradoxical locus of

life and death is clear from

its mélange of traits. Some

connote reproduction and

nurture (shelter from the

elements; the organic sup-

port of chicken legs [chicken

eggs = birth of chicks]; the

oven that provides warmth

and cooks food), while

others evoke death (the

skulls encircling the hut; the

charm needed to access the

entrance; the oven that trans-

forms humans into food;

the cannibalistic inhabitant).

Hands function as locks and

animals fulfill dread tasks,

while Baba Yaga’s body

fills the hut—not unlike a

corpse resting in a coffin.

Yet the hut revolves, like the

earth around the sun. The

dark, windowless wooden

hut here, coupled with the

figure of Baba Yaga as totem,

resembles structures report-

edly housing figurines of

ancient Siberian pagan gods.

her bed, and fell sound asleep. Finist the bright falcon came flying,
but when

he swooped into the window he cut his left leg. But the fair maiden
knew

nothing about it, she was sleeping so sweetly, so peacefully. The

bright falcon

soared up angrily into the open sky and flew away over the dark
forest.

In the morning the beauty woke up and looked in every direction. It

was

already light, but there was no sign of the handsome young man! As
soon as
she glanced out the window, she saw sharp knives sticking out this
way and

that outside the window, and scarlet blood was dripping from them
onto

the little flower. For a long time the maiden drowned in bitter tears;
she

spent many sleepless nights by the window of her chamber, tried

waving the

jeweled feather—but all in vain! Finist the bright falcon didn’t come
flying

to her, and he didn’t send his servants, either!

22

Finist the Bright Falcon II

Finally she went to her father with tears in her eyes and asked for his

blessing. “I’m going, I don’t know where,” she said.

She ordered three pairs of iron shoes forged for her and three iron

crutches, three iron caps, and three iron loaves. She put a pair of the
shoes on

her feet, a cap on her head, a crutch in her hands, and she set off in
the same

direction Finist the bright falcon had always come flying from to see
her.
She walked along through a deep, dark forest, walked over stumps
and

stiles; the iron shoes were already getting worn, the iron cap was
wearing

out, the crutch was breaking, the loaf was gnawed away, but the fair
maiden

kept walking and walking, while the forest grew blacker and blacker,
thicker

and thicker. Suddenly she saw, standing in front of her, a cast-iron hut
on

chicken legs that constantly turned around.

The maiden said, “Little house, little house! Stand with your back to

the woods, your front to me.” The house turned its front toward her.
She

went into the house, and a Baba Yaga was lying inside from corner to
corner,

lips on the railing, nose stuck in the ceiling. 13 “Fie-fie-fie! Before the
Russian smell14 couldn’t be seen with the sight, couldn’t be heard
with the hearing,

but now the Russian spirit walks over the free world and appears
before

my very eyes, 15 throws itself into my nose! Where does your road
lead, fair

maiden? Are you doing a deed or fleeing a deed?”

“Granny, I had Finist the bright falcon, jeweled feathers, but my

sisters
harmed him. Now I’m searching for Finist the bright falcon.”

“You’ll have to go a long way, little one! You must pass through thrice-

nine more lands. Finist the bright falcon, jeweled feathers, lives in the
fiftieth

kingdom, in the eightieth state, and he’s already betrothed to a

princess.”

Baba Yaga fed the maiden whatever God had provided, gave her
some-

thing to drink, and put her to bed. In the morning, as soon as the light

began to spread, she woke her up and gave her a precious gift, a
little gold

mallet and ten diamond nails. And she instructed her: “When you
come to

the blue sea, Finist the bright falcon’s bride will come out on the
shore for

a stroll. But you take this golden mallet in your hand and hammer in
the

diamond nails. She’ll ask to buy them from you. Don’t you take
anything,

fair maiden, only ask to see Finist the bright falcon. There now—go
with

God to see my middle sister!”

Again the fair maiden walked along through the dark forest—farther

and farther, and the forest kept getting blacker and denser, its
treetops curl-
ing up to the sky. The second pair of shoes was already down at heel,
the

second cap was already worn out, the iron crutch was breaking, and
the

23

Finist the Bright Falcon II

second loaf was gnawed through—when there standing before her

was a

cast-iron house on chicken’s legs, and it turned around without ever

ceasing.

“Little house, little house! Stand with your back to the woods and your

front to me. I must climb inside, to eat some bread.”

The little house turned with its back to the woods, its front toward the

maiden. She went inside, but a Baba Yaga was lying inside the little
house

from corner to corner, lips on the railing, nose stuck in the ceiling.
“Fie-fie-

fie! Before, the Russian smell couldn’t be seen with the sight or heard
with

the hearing, but now the Russian smell has started walking all over
the wide

world! Where does your road lead, fair maiden?”

“Granny, I’m searching for Finist the bright falcon.”

“He’s about to get married. They’re already holding the party for the

bridesmaids,” said the Baba Yaga. She gave the maiden food and
drink and

put her to sleep. In the morning, as soon as it got light, she woke her
up,

gave her a golden saucer with a diamond ball, and ordered her firmly-
firmly,

“When you come to the shore of the blue sea, start rolling the
diamond ball

on the golden saucer. Finist the bright falcon’s bride will come out to
you

and start trying to buy the saucer with the ball. But don’t you take
anything

for it, just ask to see Finist the bright falcon, jeweled feathers. Now go
with

God to see my older sister!”

Again the fair maiden walked through the dark forest—farther and

farther, and the forest ever blacker and thicker. The third pair of shoes
was

already down at heel, the third cap was already worn out, the last
crutch was

breaking, and the last loaf was gnawed away. Before her a cast-iron
house

was standing on chicken’s legs. It kept turning and turning around.

“Little house, little house! Turn your back to the woods, your front to
me; I must go inside, to eat some bread.” The house turned.

Once again there was a Baba Yaga in the house. She lay there from
cor-

ner to corner, lips on the railing, nose stuck in the ceiling. “Fie-fie-fie!
Before

the Russian smell was not to be seen with the sight, not to be heard
with the

hearing, but now the Russian smell walks all over the wide world!
Where

does your path lead, fair maiden?”

“I’m looking for Finist the bright falcon, Granny.”

“Ah, fair maiden, he’s already married! Here’s my swift horse, mount

it and ride with God!” The maiden mounted the horse and raced
onward,

while the forest got thinner and thinner.

And there was the blue sea—wide and free—spreading out before
her,

and there in the distance, like fire, golden roofs burned on high
towers of

white stone. “That must be the kingdom of Finist the bright falcon!”
thought

24
Finist the Bright Falcon II

Illustration by Victor Bibikov.

the maiden. She sat down on the shifting sand and began to hammer
in the

diamond nails with the golden hammer. Suddenly a princess came

walking

down the beach with her nurses, with her nannies, and with her
faithful

servants. She stopped and started to bargain for the diamond nails
and the

golden mallet.
“Princess, just let me have a look at Finist the bright falcon, and I’ll let

you have them for nothing,” the girl answered.

“But Finist the bright falcon is sleeping now; he ordered that no one
be

let in to him. Well, so be it, give me your wonderful nails and mallet—
and

I’ll show him to you.”

She took the mallet and the little nails, ran to the palace, and stuck a

magic pin into Finist the bright falcon’s clothes so he would sleep
more

soundly and wouldn’t wake up from his sleep. Then she ordered the
nurses

to lead the fair maiden into the palace to her husband, the bright
falcon,

and she herself went for a walk. For a long time the girl wrung her
hands,

for a long time she cried over her darling, but there was no way she
could

wake him . . . Once she had strolled all she wanted, the princess
came home,

chased the fair maiden away, and pulled out the pin.

Finist the bright falcon woke up. “Ugh, how long I’ve been sleeping!”
he

said. “Someone was here and kept weeping and lamenting over me.
Only
there was no way I could open my eyes—it was so hard for me!”

“You were dreaming,” answered the princess. “There was nobody

here.”

25

Finist the Bright Falcon II

Illustration by Victor Bibikov.

The artist Victor Bibikov

uniquely catches Baba Yaga

on the red-eye flight via

mortar and broom–one of

illustrators’ favorite subjects,

though in fairy tales mortals

typically witness her flying

by day.

The next day the fair maiden again sat on the shore of the dark-blue
sea,

and she rolled the diamond ball on the golden saucer. The princess
came out

to stroll. She saw it and asked, “Sell it to me!”

“Let me just take a look at Finist the bright falcon, and I’ll let you have

it for nothing!”

The princess agreed and again stuck a pin in Finist the bright falcon’s

clothes. Again the fair maiden wept bitterly over her darling and
couldn’t

wake him. On the third day she sat on the shore of the dark-blue sea,
so sor-

rowful and sad, feeding her horse glowing coals. The princess saw
the horse

being fed with fire, and she started asking to buy him.
“Let me just take a look at Finist the bright falcon, and I’ll give him to

you for nothing!”

The princess agreed, ran into the palace, and said, “Finist, bright
falcon!

Let me look in your hair for lice.”

She sat down to search his head and stuck a pin in his hair. He
imme-

diately fell sound asleep. Then she sent her nurses to bring the fair
maiden.

She came in, tried to wake her darling, embraced him, kissed him,
and

she herself cried bitterly-bitterly. No, he wouldn’t wake up! She began
to

search in his hair and happened to pull out the magic pin. Finist the
bright

26

Finist the Bright Falcon II

falcon, jeweled feathers, woke up right away, saw the fair maiden,
and how

he rejoiced!

She told him everything that had happened: how her evil sisters had

begun to envy her, how she went wandering, and how she had
bargained
with the princess. He fell in love with her even more than before,
kissed her

sugared lips, and ordered without delay a gathering of boyars and

princes

and all kinds of people of rank.

He asked them, “What is your judgment, with which wife should

I spend all my days—with that one, who sold me, or with this one,
who

bought me?”

All the boyars and princes and people of various ranks decided with
one

voice that he should take the one who had bought him, and that the
one

who had sold him should be hanged on the gates and shot. And that
is what

was done by Finist the bright falcon, jeweled feathers!16

(Afanas’ev, no. 235)

27
Go I Don’t Know Where,

Bring I Don’t Know What

In a certain state there lived a king who was an unmarried

bachelor, and he had a whole company of musketeers. The

musketeers would go out hunting, shoot migratory birds, and

provide the ruler’s table with game. A fine young musketeer by

the name of Fedot served in that company. He had a sharp eye

for shooting game: it was almost as if he never missed, and for

that the king loved him more than all of his comrades.

One time it happened that he went out to hunt early-early

in the morning, at the crack of dawn. He walked into a dark thick

forest

and saw a mourning dove sitting on a tree. 17 Fedot brought up his

weapon,
aimed, fired, and broke the bird’s wing. The bird fell from the branch
to the

damp earth. The musketeer picked up the bird, was about to tear off
its

head and put it into his sack.

The mourning dove spoke to him. “Ah, you fine young musketeer,
don’t

tear off my wild head, don’t make me part from the white world. Better
take

me alive, bring me into your home, put me on the windowsill and

watch.

The moment I start to fall asleep, at that very time swing your right
hand

and strike me—and you’ll win yourself great happiness!”

The musketeer was mightily surprised. “What is this?” he thought. “It

looks just like a bird, but it speaks with a human voice! I’ve never
seen

anything like this before . . .”

He took the bird home, put it down on the windowsill, and stood there

waiting. A little while passed, the mourning dove put its head under its
wing

and dozed off. The musketeer lifted his right hand, swung it, and hit
the

bird lightly. The mourning dove fell to the ground and turned into a
beauti-
ful girl, such a beautiful one that you couldn’t imagine her, or guess,
but only

tell it in a fairy tale! There was no other beauty in the world to equal
her!

She said to the fine young man, the king’s musketeer, “You were able

to catch me, so now figure out how to live with me. You’ll be my
betrothed

husband, and I your God-given wife!” 18 And they agreed on that.

Fedot

got married and lived well. He amused himself with his young wife,
but he

28

Go I Don’t Know Where, Bring I Don’t Know What

didn’t forget his duties. Every morning, before the sun rose, he would
take

his weapon, go into the forest, shoot all kinds of game, and take it
over to

the king’s kitchen.

His wife saw he was exhausted from hunting, and she said to him,

“Listen, my friend, I’m sorry for you. Every livelong day you’re put to
trou-

ble, you wander through the forest and the swamps, you always
come home
soaking wet, but we have no gain from it. What kind of a trade is that!
I

know something here that will not leave you without profit. Get hold of
a

hundred or two hundred rubles, and we’ll arrange the whole

business.”

Fedot ran to his comrades. He borrowed a ruble from one, two rubles

from another, and got together exactly two hundred rubles. He

brought

them to his wife. “Well,” she said, “now buy all kinds of silk with those
two

hundred rubles.” The musketeer bought two hundred rubles’ worth of

silk.

She took it and said, “Don’t fret, say a prayer and go to bed.
Morning’s wiser

than the evening!”

The husband fell asleep, and the wife went out onto the porch. She

opened her magic book, and all at once two unknown young men19
appeared

before her. Tell them whatever you want! “Take this silk here and in a
single

hour make me a carpet, and such a wonderful one that its like has
never

been seen in the whole world. Let the whole kingdom be embroidered
on
the carpet, with cities, and with villages, and with rivers, and with
lakes.”

They set to work and not only within an hour, but in ten minutes they
had

finished a carpet to make everyone marvel. They handed it over to

the mus-

keteer’s wife and disappeared in a wink, as if they had never been

there!

In the morning she handed the carpet over to her husband. “Here,”
she

said. “Take this to the bazaar and sell it to the merchants, but listen:
don’t

set your own price, but take what they offer.”

Fedot took the carpet, unrolled it, hung it over his arm, and went to
the

tradesmen’s rows. A merchant saw it, came running over, and asked,
“Listen,

honored sir! Are you selling this?”

“I’m selling it.”

“And what does it cost?”

“You’re a tradesman, you set the price.”

The merchant thought and thought, but he couldn’t set a price on the

carpet—not at all! Another merchant jumped up, a third one after him,
a
fourth . . . and a huge crowd of them gathered, looking at the carpet,
marvel-

ing, but they couldn’t set a price on it. Meanwhile, the court
commander

was riding past the tradesmen’s row when he caught sight of the
crowd and

wondered what the merchants were talking about. He got out of his
car-

29

Go I Don’t Know Where, Bring I Don’t Know What

riage, walked over, and said, “Hello, merchants and tradesmen,

guests from

overseas! What are you speaking about?”

“It’s like this, we can’t set a price on the carpet.”

The commander looked at the carpet and he himself began to marvel.

“Listen, musketeer,” he said. “Tell me the honest truth, where did you
get

such a marvelous carpet?”

“My wife embroidered it.”

“What are you asking for it?”

“I myself don’t know the price. My wife ordered me not to haggle, but

whatever I’m offered, we’ll take it!”

“Well, here are ten thousand for you!”

The musketeer took the money and handed over the carpet. But that

commander was always near the king—he drank and ate at his table.
So he

rode off to the king’s to dine and took along the carpet. “Would your
maj-

esty care to see what a wonderful carpet I bought today?”

The king took a look: he saw his whole kingdom, as if on the palm of
his

hand, and he gasped! “Now that is a carpet! I’ve never seen anything
so cun-

ning in my life. Well, commander, ask whatever you want, but I won’t
give

the carpet back to you.” Here the king took out twenty-five thousand
and

gave it to him, from hand to hand, but he hung the carpet up in his
palace.

“That’s all right,” thought the commander. “I’ll order another one for

myself, an even better one.”

He rode right to the musketeer’s, searched out his house, walked into

the main room, and the moment he saw the musketeer’s wife, at that
mo-

ment he forgot both himself and his business. He himself didn’t know
why
he had come. There before him stood such a beauty that he could
have

stared at her for a hundred years without ever looking away! He

looked

at the other man’s wife, and in his head thought after thought, “Who
has

ever seen, who has ever heard of a simple soldier having possession
of such

a treasure? Even though I serve the king himself, and I hold the rank
of

general, I’ve still never seen such a beauty!”

The general could barely force himself to come to his senses, and he

went back home against his will. From that time, from that hour he
was be-

side himself. Asleep or awake, he could only think of the musketeer’s

splen-

did wife. When he ate he could not be sated, and when he drank he
could

not drink his fill, her image kept appearing to him!

The king noticed this and asked him, “What’s happened to you? Is it

some kind of grief?”

30
Go I Don’t Know Where, Bring I Don’t Know What

Vasilisa the Beautiful, Artist:

Figurin Alexey, From the vil-

lage of Palekh. http://tinyurl

.com/cpfq54q

“Ah, your highness! I saw the musketeer’s wife. There’s no other such

beauty in the world. I keep thinking about her: I can’t be satisfied by

food

and drink, I can’t be delighted by any kind of nourishment!”

The king felt the wish to admire her himself. He ordered his carriage
prepared and rode to the musketeer’s part of town. He came into the
main

room and saw an indescribable beauty! No matter who looked at her,

an old

man or a young man, everyone fell madly in love. He was crushed by

the fe-

ver in his heart. “What?” he thought to himself. “Why am I walking

around

an unmarried bachelor? I would like to marry this beauty; why should

she

be a musketeer’s wife? She was destined from birth to be a queen.”

The king returned to his palace and said to the commander, “Listen!
You

knew how to show me the musketeer’s wife, an unimaginable beauty.

Now

figure how to get rid of her husband. I want to marry her myself . . .
And if

you don’t get rid of him, you’ll have yourself to blame. Even though
you’re

my faithful servant, you’ll swing on the gallows!”

The commander went out, even more sorrowful than before. He

couldn’t

figure out how to get rid of the musketeer.

He walked through empty lots, back alleys, and he met a Baba Yaga.
“Stop, servant of the king! I know all your thoughts. Would you like
me to

help your inescapable grief?”

“Help me, grandmother! I’ll pay you whatever you want.”

31

Go I Don’t Know Where, Bring I Don’t Know What

“The king has told you his order, that you should get rid of Fedot the

musketeer. That would be no great matter, he’s simple himself, but

his

wife’s awfully sly! Still, we’ll set such a task that he won’t be able to
handle

it quickly. Go back to the king and tell him this: over thrice-nine lands,
in

the thrice-tenth land there’s an island. On that island walks a stag

with

golden horns. 20 Let the king gather fifty sailors—the most useless,
hopeless

drunks—and let him order an old, rotten ship that’s been considered
retired

for thirty years prepared for the quest. Let him send Fedot the
musketeer

on that ship to get the stag Golden Horns. In order to get to the
island, he’ll
have to sail neither much nor little—three years, and then three years
back

from the island—six years altogether. When the ship goes to sea, it
will

serve for a month, and then it will sink. The musketeer, the sailors—
they’ll

all go to the bottom!”

The commander listened to these words, thanked the Baba Yaga for
her

advice, rewarded her with gold, and ran to the king.

“Your highness,” he said, “it’s like this, and like that—we can surely
get

rid of the musketeer.”

The king agreed to the plan, and he gave the order to his navy at
once:

to prepare for the quest an old, rotten ship, load it up with six years’
worth

of provisions and find a crew of fifty sailors—the most debauched and

bitter

drunks. The heralds ran through all the taverns and got together such
sailors

that it was a treat to see: one had two black eyes, one had his nose
punched

sideways. As soon as they reported to the king that the ship was
ready, at that
moment he ordered the musketeer to come to him. “Well, Fedot,
you’re a fine

young man, the best musketeer in the company. Do me this favor: sail
over

thrice-nine lands, and in the thrice-tenth kingdom there’s an island.

On that

island walks the stag Golden Horns. Catch him alive and bring him
here.”

The musketeer thought about it. He didn’t even know what to answer.

“Think or don’t think,” said the king, “but if you don’t do this deed,
then my

sword will take your head off your shoulders!”

Fedot turned around leftward and went out of the palace. That
evening

he came home sorely sorrowful, he didn’t want to say even a word.

His wife asked, “What are you sad about, my dear? Has something
bad

happened?”

He told her everything in full.

“So you’re grieving about that? No wonder! That’s a great service, not
a

small one! Say a prayer and go to sleep. Morning’s wiser than the
evening:

everything will be done.”

32

Go I Don’t Know Where, Bring I Don’t Know What

A lacquer box depicting

Baba Yaga’s abode, here

reduced to its bare essen-

tials. Boxes, plates, jewelry,

and various other items

featuring fairy tales were

created by the four major

centers of lacquer miniature

production specializing in

folklore iconography: Palekh

(a center of icon-painting

in the sixteenth century and

of lacquer box manufacture

in the 1920s), Fedoskino

(established in 1796), Ms-

tera (founded in 1931), and

Kholui (dating from 1934).

Artist unknown. http://ba

bayagawassilissa.blogspot

.com/2007_09_01_archive

The musketeer lay down and fell asleep, and his wife opened her
magic .html.

book. Suddenly two unknown young men appeared before her. “What
do

you need, what do you wish?”

“Go over thrice-nine lands, to the thrice-tenth kingdom—to the island,

catch the stag Golden Horns and bring him here.”

“We obey! By sunrise it will all be done.”

They flew off like a whirlwind to that island, caught the stag Golden

Horns, and brought him straight to the musketeer’s yard. An hour

before

dawn they had done the whole deed and vanished, as if they had
never

been there.

The musketeer’s beautiful wife woke her husband extra early and told

him, “Go and look, the stag Golden Horns is strolling in your yard.
Take

him on the ship with you, sail away for five days, and on the sixth day
turn

back.” The musketeer put the stag in a thick, closed cage and put it
on the

ship. “What’s this?” asked the sailors.

“All kinds of provisions and food. The way is long, we’re likely to need

all kinds of things!”

When the time came for the ship to leave the dock, many people
came

to see it off. The king himself came, said good-bye to Fedot, and
made him

the commander of all the sailors. For five days the ship sailed over
the sea;
they were already far from shore. Fedot the musketeer ordered a
forty-

bucket cask of wine rolled onto the deck and said to the sailors,
“Drink,

lads! Don’t stint yourselves: the soul’s your measure!” And they were
glad of

33

Go I Don’t Know Where, Bring I Don’t Know What

this: they rushed over to the cask and started drinking the wine,
drinking so

much that they toppled over and fell into a sound sleep right there
beside

the cask. The musketeer took hold of the wheel at the helm, turned
the ship,

and sailed back. To keep the sailors from noticing this, he kept them
full

of wine from morning to night. The moment they pried their eyelids
open

from one spree, a new cask would be ready—good reason to take a

hair of

the dog that bit them.

On exactly the eleventh day the ship hove to the dock, threw up its

flag, and began to fire its cannons. The king heard the firing, got
angry, and
jumped on Fedot with all possible severity. “How dare you return
before the

time was up?”

“But where was I supposed to go, your highness? Perhaps some

fools

would sail around for ten years without doing anything sensible, but
instead

of ten years we took only ten days to make the voyage and do the
deed.

Wouldn’t you like to have a look at the stag Golden Horns?”

They immediately brought the cage off the ship, let out the golden-

horned stag. The king saw that the musketeer was right; you couldn’t
blame

him for anything! He allowed him to go home, but he gave the sailors
who

had voyaged with him freedom for a whole six years. No one could
dare ask

them to come and serve, for the very reason that they had already
served

those years.

The next day the king summoned the commander and went for him

with threats. “Why did you allow this?” he said. “Or are you playing a
joke

on me? Your own head’s not dear to you, it seems! Do whatever you
can, but
find a way to send Fedot the musketeer to an evil death.”

“Your royal majesty! Allow me to think. Perhaps this can be

remedied.”

The commander set off through empty lots and back alleys, and he
saw

the Baba Yaga coming to meet him. “Stop, servant of the king! I know
your

thoughts; would you like me to ease your grief?”

“Ease it, grandmother! For the musketeer has returned and brought
the

stag Golden Horns.”

“Oh, I already heard! He himself is a simple man. It wouldn’t be hard

to

get the better of him—just like sniffing a pinch of snuff! But his wife’s
a real

crafty one. Well, we’ll set her another task, one she won’t be able to
handle

so quickly. Go to the king and tell him to send the musketeer I don’t
know

where, to bring back I don’t know what. 21 He won’t be able to

complete this

task for all of eternity. Either he’ll disappear without a trace or he’ll
come

back empty-handed.”

34
Go I Don’t Know Where, Bring I Don’t Know What

The commander rewarded the Baba Yaga with gold and ran to the
king.

The king heard him out and ordered the musketeer brought to him.
“Well,

Fedot! You’re a fine lad, the first musketeer in the company. You’ve
done me

one service—you got the stag Golden Horns. Now do me another

service:

go I don’t know where and bring back I don’t know what. But
remember, if

you don’t bring it then my sword will see your head off your
shoulders!”

The musketeer turned around leftward and left the palace. He came

home sorrowful and pensive. His wife asked him, “Why, my dear, are
you

grieving? Has there been another misfortune?”

“Eh,” he said, “I shook one piece of bad luck off my neck, but another

came falling on me. The king is sending me I don’t know where, and
he

orders me to bring back I don’t know what. Because of your

loveliness I have

to bear all kinds of misfortunes!”

“Yes, this service is no small one! In order to get there, you’ll have to

travel for nine years, and nine years back—altogether eighteen years.
And

God only knows whether you’ll have any use from it!”

“What can I do, how should I act?”

“Say a prayer and go to sleep. Morning’s wiser than the evening.

Tomorrow you’ll find out everything.”

The musketeer lay down to sleep, and his wife waited until nightfall,

opened her magic book, and at once the two lads appeared before
her.

“What do you wish, what do you need?”

“Do you happen to know how to go I don’t know where, to bring back

I don’t know what?”

“No, we don’t!”

She closed the book, and the lads disappeared before her eyes.

In the morning the musketeer’s wife woke her husband. “Go to the
king,

and ask him for golden treasure for the road. After all, you’ll have to
wander

for eighteen years. When you get the money, come say good-bye to
me.”

The musketeer visited the king, got a whole sack22 of gold from the
trea-
sury, and came back to say good-bye to his wife. She gave him a
piece of

cloth and a ball. “When you leave the city, throw this ball ahead of
you.

Wherever it rolls, you walk that way. And here is some of my

handiwork for

you. Wherever you may be, whenever you go to wash, always dry
your face

with this cloth.”

The musketeer said good-bye to his wife and to his comrades, bowed
in

all four directions, and set off to the edge of town. He threw the ball
ahead

of him. The ball rolled and rolled, and he followed after it.

35

Go I Don’t Know Where, Bring I Don’t Know What

About a month had passed, the king called the commander and said

to him, “The musketeer has set out for eighteen years to drag around
the

white world, and all the signs are clear that he won’t remain alive.
After all,

eighteen years isn’t two weeks. All kinds of things can happen on the
road!
He’s carrying a lot of money. Perhaps robbers will fall upon him, rob
him,

and subject him to an evil death. It seems that now I can get started
on his

wife. You take my carriage, drive to the musketeers’ part of town, and
bring

her here to the palace.”

The commander drove to the musketeers’ part of town, came to the

house of the musketeer’s beautiful wife, walked into the house, and
said,

“Hello, clever woman. The king has ordered you to present yourself at
the

palace.”

She came to the palace. The king welcomed her with joy, led her into

gilded chambers, and said these words to her: “Would you like to be
the

queen? I’ll marry you.”

“Where is it seen, where is it heard of, to try to take the wife away
from

a living husband! No matter who he is, even just a simple musketeer,

but to

me he’s my lawful husband.”

“If you won’t come of your own free will, I’ll take you by force!”

The beauty smiled, struck the floor, turned into a mourning dove, and
flew out the window.

The musketeer passed through many lands and kingdoms, but the
ball

kept on rolling. When they met a river, there the ball would cast itself
across

as a bridge. When the musketeer wanted to rest, there the ball would
turn

into a feather bed. For a long time, for a short time—quickly may a
tale be

spun, but not so soon a deed is done—the musketeer came to a

great, beau-

tiful palace. The ball rolled up to the gates and disappeared.

So the musketeer stood and thought, “Let me go straight ahead!” He

went up the stair into the rooms, and there he met three maidens of
inde-

scribable beauty. “Where are you come from, young man, and why
have you

come to visit?”

“Ah, fair maidens, you didn’t let me rest after the long journey, but you

started to ask questions. If you gave me food and drink first, laid me
down

to rest, then you could ask me for news.” They immediately set the
table, sat

him down, fed him and gave him drink, and put him to bed.
The musketeer slept his fill and rose from the soft bed. The fair
maidens

brought him water and an embroidered towel. He washed up with

spring

water, but he didn’t take the towel. “I have my own cloth,” he said, “I
have

something to wipe my face.”

36
Go I Don’t Know Where, Bring I Don’t Know What

Baba Yaga by Waldemar

von Kazak. Reminiscent of

Snoopy’s fantasized Red

Baron, this military Baba

Yaga, accompanied by her

armed feline helper, could

have starred in Stanley

Kubrick’s Apocalypse Now.

Executed by Waldemar von

Kazak from Tver’, this is a

fantastically modern and

westernized Baba Yaga.

Info@kazakdesign

.com, kazakdesign.com.

He took out the cloth and began to wipe his face. The fair maidens

asked him, “Good man! Tell us: where did you get that cloth?”

“My wife gave it to me.”

“Then you must be married to our own dear sister!”

They called their old mother. As soon as she took one look at the
cloth,

she said right away, “That’s my daughter’s handiwork!” She began to

ask
their guest about everything. He told her how he had married her
daughter

and how the tsar23 had sent him I don’t know where, to bring I don’t
know

what. “Ah, my dear son-in-law! But even I haven’t heard of that

wonder!

Wait here, perhaps my servants know.”

The old woman went out onto the porch, called in a loud voice, and

suddenly—where did they come from?—all kinds of beasts ran up,

and all

kinds of birds came flying. “Greetings, forest beasts and birds of the
air! You

37

Go I Don’t Know Where, Bring I Don’t Know What

beasts search everywhere, you birds fly everywhere: have you heard
how to

get I don’t know where and to bring back I don’t know what?”

All the beasts and birds answered in one voice, “No, we’ve never
heard

of that!”

The old woman sent them back to their own places, in overgrown
plac-
es, in forests, in groves. She returned to the main room, got out her
magic

book, opened it—and right away two giants appeared to her. “What
do you

wish, what do you need?”

“Here’s what, my faithful servants! Take me along with my son-in-law

to the wide ocean-sea and stand exactly in the middle—on the very
surface

of the waves.”

They immediately picked up the musketeer and the old woman, car-

ried them off as if they were restless whirlwinds to the wide ocean-
sea,

and stopped in the middle—on the very surface of the waves. They
them-

selves stood like pillars, and they held the musketeer and the old
woman

in their arms.

The old woman called with a loud voice, and all the monsters and fish
of

the sea swam to her: they were just teeming! Their bodies hid the
blue sea!

“Hail, monsters and fish of the sea! You swim everywhere, you visit all
the

islands. Have you heard how to go to I don’t know where, and to

bring back
I don’t know what?”

All the monsters and fish answered in one voice, “No! We’ve never
heard

of that!”

Suddenly an old lame frog, who had been living in retirement for thirty

years already, pushed her way forward, and she said, “Kva-kva! I
know where

to find such a marvel.”

“Well, my dear, you are the one I need,” said the old woman. She
picked

up the frog and ordered the giants to take her and her son-in-law
back home.

In a moment they found themselves back in the palace. The old wom-

an started to ask the frog questions. “How and by what road must my

son-in-law go?”

The frog answered, “This place is on the edge of the world—far, far

away! I would come along myself, but I’m already mighty old. I can
bare-

ly move my legs, I couldn’t hop there if I had fifty years.” The old
woman

brought a large jar, filled it with fresh milk, put the frog in it, and gave
it to

her son-in- law. “Carry this jar,” she said, “and let the frog show you
the way.”
The musketeer took the jar with the frog, said good-bye to the old
wom-

an and her daughters, and set off on his way. He walked along, and
the frog

told him which way to go.

38

Go I Don’t Know Where, Bring I Don’t Know What

Close or far, long or short, he came to a fiery river. Beyond that river

stood a high mountain, and you could see a door to the inside of the
moun-

tain. “Kva-kva!” said the frog. “Let me out of the jar; we have to cross
the

river.” The musketeer took her out of the jar and put her on the
ground.

“Well, fine young lad! Sit down on me, and don’t feel pity. You won’t
be able

to squash me!”

The musketeer sat down on the frog and squashed her into the earth.

The frog started to puff up. She puffed and puffed until she was as big
as a

haystack. All the musketeer could think of was how to keep from
falling off.

“If I fall, I’ll be smashed to death!”

The frog puffed up and made such a jump that she jumped all the
way

across the fiery river, and then she turned small again. “Now, good
lad, go in

that door, and I’ll wait for you here. You’ll go into a cave, and hide
yourself

well in there. After a while two old men will come in. Listen to what
they

say and do, and after they leave you do the same thing!”

The musketeer went up to the mountain, opened the door—and the

cave was awfully dark, as if you’d poked your eyes out! He walked
crouching

over and started feeling with his hands. He felt an empty space, sat
down in

it, and hid himself. Then a little bit later two old men came and said,
“Hey,

Shmat-Razum! 24 Give us something to eat.”

That very moment—out of nowhere!—the chandeliers began to burn,

plates and dishes rattled, and all kinds of wine and food appeared on
the

table. The old men ate and drank their fill and then ordered, “Hey,
Shmat-

Razum! Clear everything away.” Suddenly everything disappeared—

the

table, the wines, the food—and the chandeliers went out.

The musketeer heard the two old men leave, got out of the cupboard,

and shouted, “Hey, Shmat-Razum!”

“What do you wish?”

“Feed me!” Again the lit chandeliers appeared, and the laden table,
and

all kinds of drinks and foods.

The musketeer sat down at the table and said, “Hey, Shmat-Razum!
Sit

down with me, brother, let’s eat and drink together, it’s boring by
myself.”

An unseen voice answered, “Ah, good man! Where did God bring you

from? I’ve been serving the two old men in faith and truth for nearly
thirty

years, and in all that time they’ve never asked me to sit with them.”

The musketeer took a look and was surprised. He couldn’t see

anyone,

but it was as if someone was sweeping food from the plates with a
little

broom, and the bottles of wine lifted themselves, poured themselves

into the

goblets, and look—they were already empty! The musketeer ate and
drank

39
Go I Don’t Know Where, Bring I Don’t Know What

Baba-Yaga by Artus Scheiner

for the Prague Otta Deter-

gent Co. (circa 1900). Repro-

duced courtesy of the Cotsen

Children’s Library, Princeton

University Library.

his fill and said, “Listen, Shmat-Razum! Would you like to serve me? I
have

a good life.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to! I’ve been bored here for a long time, and I
can

see that you’re a good man.”

“Well, gather up everything and come along with me!”

The musketeer came out of the cave, looked behind and there was
noth-

ing . . . “Shmat-Razum! Are you here?”

“Here! Don’t fear, I won’t fall behind you.”

“All right!” said the musketeer and sat down on the frog. The frog

puffed herself up and jumped across the fiery river. He put her back
into

the jar and set off on his journey back.25

He came back to his mother-in-law and made his new servant give a

good treat to the old woman and her daughters. Shmat-Razum

showed
them such a time that the old woman almost started to dance with joy,
and

40

Go I Don’t Know Where, Bring I Don’t Know What

the frog, as a reward for her faithful service, was to be given three
jars of

milk every day.

The musketeer said good-bye to his mother-in-law and set off for

home. He walked and walked and got very tired; his swift feet were
weary,

and his white arms drooped. “Eh,” he said. “Shmat-Razum! If you

knew

how tired I am. My legs are just paralyzed.”

“Why didn’t you say so a long time ago? I’d have gotten you there in

no time.”

He immediately picked the musketeer up like a restless whirlwind and

carried him through the air so fast that his hat fell off. “You reached
for it

too late, my lord! Now your hat’s five thousand vyorsts behind us.”
Cities

and villages, rivers and forests flickered before his eyes . . .

The musketeer was flying over a deep sea, and Shmat-Razum said
to

him, “Would you like me to build a golden pavilion on this sea? You
could

rest and have some good luck.”

“All right, do it!” said the musketeer, and he began to sink toward the

sea. Where the waves had been rising a minute before, a little island
ap-

peared, and a golden pavilion appeared on the island. Shmat-Razum

said

to the musketeer, “Sit down in the pavilion, rest, and watch the sea.
Three

merchant ships will sail by and come to anchor by the island. You
invite the

merchants in, treat them as guests, and trade me for the three
wonders the

merchants are carrying with them. I’ll return to you in my own good
time!”

The musketeer watched, and he saw three ships sailing from the
west.

The sailors saw the island and the golden pavilion. “What a wonder!”
they

said. “How many times have we sailed here, and there was nothing
but wa-

ter, but now just look here! A golden pavilion has appeared. Let’s
anchor
by the shore, brothers, take a look and admire.” At once they stopped
the

course of the ships and threw down their anchors. The three
merchant

masters got into a light boat and sailed to the island. “Hello, good
man!”

“Hello, merchants from foreign lands! Welcome; please take a walk,

enjoy yourselves, catch your breath. The pavilion is built expressly for
pass-

ing guests.”

The merchants came into the pavilion and sat down on a bench.
“Hey,

Shmat-Razum!” cried the musketeer, “give us something to eat and

drink.”

A table appeared, on the table wines and dishes, as much as the soul
could

desire—all ready in a moment!

The merchants simply gasped. “Let’s trade!” they said. “You give us
your

servant, and for that take any wonder that we have.”

“But what kinds of wonders do you have?”

41
Go I Don’t Know Where, Bring I Don’t Know What

Illustration by Artus Scheiner

for the Prague Otta Deter-

gent Co. (circa 1900). Repro-

duced courtesy of the Cotsen

Children’s Library, Princeton

University Library.

“Take a look, you’ll see!”

One of the merchants pulled a tiny box out of his pocket, and the mo-

ment he opened it a wonderful garden immediately grew up, with

flowers

and with paths, but when he closed the little box the garden
disappeared.

The second merchant pulled an axe from under the hem of his coat
and

began to chop. Chop and chop—he’d made a boat! Chop and chop—
an-

other boat! He chopped a hundred times and made a hundred boats,

with

sails, with cannon, and with sailors. The boats sailed around: they
shot their

cannons, and they asked the merchant for his orders . . . When he’d
had

enough of the amusement, he hid his axe—and the ships

disappeared, as if

they’d never been there!

The third merchant took a horn, blew into one end, and all at once an
army appeared, infantry and cavalry, with rifles, with cannon, with
banners.

All the regiments sent couriers to the merchant, and he gave them
orders.

The regiments marched, music thundered, the banners unfurled . . .

When

42

Go I Don’t Know Where, Bring I Don’t Know What

the merchant had had enough fun, he took his trumpet, blew into the
other

end—and there was nothing; where had all the forces gone to? 26

“Your wonders are just fine, but I don’t need them!” said the
musketeer.

“Armies and ships are tsars’ business, and I’m a simple soldier. If you
want to

trade with me, then give me all three wonders for my one invisible
servant.”

“Won’t that be too much?”

“Well, as you prefer; otherwise, I won’t trade!”

The merchants thought to themselves, “What good is that garden to

us, these regiments and warships? Better to trade; at least we’ll be

fed and
drunk without any effort at all.” They gave the musketeer their
wonders and

said, “Hey, Shmat-Razum! We’re taking you with us; will you serve us
with

faith and truth?”

“Why shouldn’t I serve you? It’s all the same to me who I live with.”

The merchants returned to their ships and started to treat all the mari-

ners to food and drink. “Well then, Shmat-Razum, stir your stumps!”

They all drank until they were drunk and fell fast asleep. But the mus-

keteer sat in his golden pavilion, started thinking, and said, “Ah, it’s
too bad!

Where’s my faithful servant Shmat-Razum now?”

“I’m here, sir!”

The musketeer was delighted. “Isn’t it time for us to get home?”

No sooner had he said it than he was picked up by a restless

whirlwind

and carried through the air.

The merchants woke up, and they wanted to drink some more. “Hey,

Shmat-Razum, give us something for our hangovers!” No one

answered: no

one was serving them. No matter how much they shouted, no matter
how

they gave orders, it was no use. “Well, gentlemen! That swindler27

cheated
us. Now only the devil will find him! The island’s disappeared, and the
gold-

en pavilion, too.” The merchants grieved and grieved for a while, lifted
their

sails, and set off for where they were supposed to be going.

The musketeer quickly flew to his own land and came down beside
the

blue sea in a deserted place. “Hey, Shmat-Razum! Couldn’t we build

a pal-

ace here?”

“Why not? It will be ready right away.”

In a wink there was such a delightful palace that it can’t even be de-

scribed, twice as good as the king’s. The musketeer opened the little
box,

and around the palace a garden appeared with rare trees and
flowers. The

musketeer sat there at the open window and admired his garden.
Suddenly

a mourning dove flew in at the window, struck the floor, and turned
into

his young wife. They embraced, said their greetings, and began to
ask each

43
Go I Don’t Know Where, Bring I Don’t Know What

other questions, tell each other everything. The wife said to the
musketeer,

“Since the very moment when you left home, all that time I’ve been
flying

through the forests and groves as a lonely mourning dove.”

The next morning the king came out on his balcony, looked toward
the

blue sea, and saw that a new palace was standing on the very shore
of the

sea, and around the palace a green garden. “What ignoramus got the
idea of

building on my land without permission?”

The couriers went running, found out everything, and reported that

the palace had been built by the musketeer, and that he himself was
liv-

ing in it with his wife at his side. The king became even more enraged
and

ordered an army collected and sent to the shore, to raze the garden
to its

foundations, to break the palace up into little pieces, and to put the
muske-

teer himself and his wife to a cruel death. The musketeer observed
that the
king’s strong army was marching on him, and he quickly grabbed the
axe.

Chop and chop—out came a ship! He chopped a hundred times and

made

a hundred ships. Then he took out the horn, blew into it once—the
infantry

tumbled out of it; he blew twice and out tumbled the cavalry.

The commanders of the regiments came running to him, and the

ships

were waiting for his orders. The musketeer ordered them to enter the
battle.

At once music began to play, they beat the drums, and the regiments
moved.

The infantry smashed the king’s soldiers; the cavalry chased them
the rest

of the way, took them captive, and the cannons from the ships rained
fire on

the capital city. The king saw that his army was running away; he
wanted

to rush and stop the army—but how could he? Before even a half-
hour had

passed, he himself was killed.

When the battle ended, the people gathered and asked the
musketeer to

take the whole kingdom into his hands. He agreed to that and
became the
king, and his wife became the queen.

(Afanas’ev, no. 212)

44

Ivanushka

There was a lady, and she had a son, Ivanushka. He got

into a little boat and went sailing. He sailed and sailed.

The lady came to the shore. “Ivanushka! Sail over to

me, I’ve brought you something to eat and drink!” He

sailed over. She gave him something to eat and drink,

and she sent him off to sail some more.

Baba Yaga came. “Ivanushka! Sail over to me, I’ve

brought you something to eat and drink!”

Ivanushka heard that it wasn’t his mother’s voice, and he didn’t sail
over

to her. Then the Baba Yaga ran to the smithy. “Blacksmith,

blacksmith! Forge

me a voice like Ivanushka’s mother’s!” So he forged her a voice, and

she ran

down to the bank. “Ivanushka! Sail over to me, I’ve brought you
something

to eat and drink!” He heard his mother’s voice and sailed over. Baba
Yaga

grabbed him and dragged him off.

The lady realized that Ivanushka was missing. She sent her maid to
look

for him. The maid walked and walked. She came to a palace, and
there she

saw a girl sitting on the meadow, spinning and playing with a little
boy. The

child had a golden saucer, and on that saucer was a golden egg.
“Fair maiden!

Do you happen to know where I could find my child? My lady will

drive me

away if I don’t find him!”

She said, “You sit down, spin some of my flax for me, and I’ll go and

bring you a ball of thread. Wherever that ball of thread rolls, follow it.”

She said to her, this girl, “Eh, how can I spare the time to work, my
dear? I have to go, I have to find the child. You tell me, my dear,
where can

I find him?”

“Well,” she said, “off you go. I don’t know where your child is.”

So she walked and walked and came to another palace, where she
saw a

girl sitting. She was winding the spun thread, playing with a little boy,
and

the child had a golden apple with a golden egg. “Fair maiden, do you
happen

to know where I can find my child?”

45
Ivanushka

Baba Yaga dines, with iron

teeth by Forest Rogers.

Contemporary artist Forest

Rogers’s Baba Yaga at

Dinner, inspired by Vasilisa

the Beautiful. The visual

captures Baba Yaga’s glut-

tonous consumption of

gigantic meals typically

prepared by a young female

visitor forced to stay in the

chicken-legged hut as her

servant. Such girls may

court the risk of becoming

the cannibalistic witch’s

feast, as foreshadowed

here by the foreplay of Baba

Yaga’s grasp on her victim’s

braid. Yet that threat is

never explicitly realized in

the tales. Illustration by For-

est Rogers, http://www

.forestrogers.com/.

“You sit down,” she said, “wind my thread, and I’ll go and bring you a

ball of thread. Wherever the ball rolls, you must follow after it.”
The maiden said to her, “Eh, my dear, do I have the time to work? I
have

to go and look for the child. You tell me, my dear, where I’m to find
him!”

“Well,” she answered, “off you go. I don’t know where your child is.”

She went along farther, and she came into the forest. A little house
stood

there on chicken legs, on shuttle heels. She said to this house, “Little
house,

little house! Stand with your back to the woods, with your front to me!”
The

house turned around. She stepped up into it and said a prayer to

God.

Baba Yaga turned over onto her other side. “Fie, fie, fie! It smells of a

Russian smell!” she said. “Before there was neither sight nor smell of
the

Russian spirit, but now the Russian spirit rolls around before my
eyes!

What are you doing, fair maiden, flying from a deed or trying a deed?”

“No, granny,” she said, “I was walking and walking, I dropped in here
to

warm up.”

“Well, then, sit by my head and search my head for gunpowder.”

46
Ivanushka

The girl got some pitch in a little pottery shard, put it into the stove,
got

some pieces of cotton ready, and sat down to search Baba Yaga’s
head. She

searched and kept repeating, “Fall asleep, little eye, fall asleep,
second eye! If

you don’t sleep, I’ll pour pitch into you, I’ll stop you up with cotton!”
She

kept repeating it until Baba Yaga fell asleep. When she fell asleep,
the girl

poured pitch into her eyes and stopped them up with cotton balls.
She took

the child and ran off with him.

She ran up to the first girl and said, “Fair maiden, hide me, or else
Baba

Yaga will eat me!”

“No,” she said. “You didn’t want to wind my thread!”

She ran on further. But meanwhile the cat began to purr, and Baba
Yaga

woke up and realized the child was gone. She chased after her, ran
up to the

palace, and asked the maiden, “Tell me, did a fair maiden run past
here with
a little boy?”

“She left just this minute!”

Baba Yaga ran and chased down the girl. She took the little boy away

from her and tore her up into pieces.

The lady waited a long time, but no one came home. She had to send

out another girl. The same thing happened to the second girl. Baba
Yaga

tore that one to pieces, too.

Finally, the lady sent a third girl. She came to the palace, saw the girl
and

the little boy, and asked, “Fair maiden, do you happen to know where
I can

find my child?”

“Here,” she says, “you spin this and watch the child, and I’ll bring you
a

ball of thread. You must give it to my sister!”

The girl sat down to spin, and the other girl went to get the ball of

thread and gave it to her. “Well,” she said, “off you go!”

The girl came to the next palace. All she saw was the little boy again

with the girl. “Here, fair maiden,” she said. “Your sister sends her
greetings

and a ball of thread. But I’m looking for my child. Do you happen to
know
where I can find him?”

“I know, my girl! Now sit down, spin a bit for me, and I’ll go get you a

lump of butter.”

She sat down to spin, while the maiden brought a lump of butter and

gave it to her.

“Now go into the forest,” said the maiden. “There’s a little house
stand-

ing in the forest, and your child is there.”

The girl set off and went into the forest. There stood a little house on

chicken legs, spinning around on shuttle heels.

47

Ivanushka

She said, “Little house, little house! Turn your back to the forest, your

front to me.”

When the little house turned toward her, she stepped up into it, said a

prayer to God, and saw the child.

Baba Yaga caught the smell of Russian breath and turned around.
“Fie,

fie, fie! Before there was neither smell nor sight of the Russian spirit,
but
now the Russian spirit appears before my eyes! What is it, fair
maiden, are

you doing a deed or fleeing a deed?”

“No, granny, I was walking and walking, and I came in here to warm
up!”

“Well,” she said, “sit down and look for things on my head.”

This girl put a pottery shard with pitch into the stove, got some balls

of cotton ready, and sat down to search Baba Yaga’s head. She
searched and

kept repeating, “Fall asleep, one eye, fall asleep, second eye! If you
don’t sleep,

I’ll pour in pitch, I’ll stop you up with cotton.”

When Baba Yaga fell asleep, the girl poured pitch over her eyes and

stopped them up with cotton. She gave the cat the piece of butter,
grabbed

the child, and ran off.

She ran to the palace and said, “Fair maiden, hide me, or else Baba
Yaga

will eat me up.”

“Sit down, fair maiden, I’ll hide you. After all, you yourself did some

work for me.”

No sooner had she hidden the girl in the basement, Baba Yaga flew
up
to her. “Fair maiden, did you happen to see—did a girl run by here
with a

little boy?

“No, Baba Yaga, I didn’t see anyone.”

Baba Yaga ran home and scratched the cat for not guarding the child.

While she was scratching him, that girl with the child ran on to the

other palace. “Fair maiden, hide me.”

“Sit down, fair maiden,” she answered. “After all, you yourself did
some

work for me.” She hid her in a trunk.

No sooner had she hidden the girl in the trunk than Baba Yaga flew
up

to her. “Fair maiden, did you happen to see—did a girl run by here
with a

little boy?”

“No, Baba Yaga, I didn’t see anyone.”

Baba Yaga flew off home again and started to pinch that cat for not

guarding the child. She pinched him so hard that she pinched him to
death.

Meanwhile, the girl ran up to the house with the child.

48
Ivanushka

The lady was so happy, she rewarded the girl for rescuing her child,

and she herself went on living with the child, earning riches, and
making it

through the bad times.

(Khudiakov, no. 52)

49

Mar’ia Morevna

In a certain kingdom, in a certain state lived Prince Ivan. He

had three sisters: one was Princess Mar’ia, the second was

Princess Olga,28 and the third was Princess Anna. Their father

and mother had died, and as they were dying they ordered

their son, “Marry each of your sisters to the first man who
comes to court her. Don’t keep them here for long!”

The prince buried his parents, and from grief he went out

to stroll with his sisters in the green garden. Suddenly a black

cloud came over them, and a horrible thunderstorm arose. “Let’s go

home,

sisters!” said Prince Ivan.

The moment they went into the palace, it was as if thunder struck: the

ceiling opened, and a bright falcon flew into their room. The falcon
struck

against the floor, turned into a handsome young man, and said,
“Hello,

Prince Ivan! I used to live here as a guest but now I’ve come as a
suitor; I

want to court your sister Princess Mar’ia.”

“If you please my sister, I won’t interfere with her. May God protect
her!”

Princess Mar’ia agreed. The falcon married her and took her away to
his

kingdom.

One day passed after another, hours ran after hours, and a whole
year

passed as quickly as if it had never been. Prince Ivan went out to

stroll in the
green garden with his two sisters. Again a storm cloud arose with a
whirl-

wind, with lightning. “Let’s go home, sisters!”

The moment they came into the palace, it was as if thunder struck:
the

roof fell open, the ceiling split in two, and an eagle flew in. The eagle
struck

the floor and turned into a handsome young man. “Hello, Prince Ivan!

Before I lived here as a guest, but now I’ve come as a suitor.” And he
asked

to marry Princess Olga.

Prince Ivan answered, “If you please Princess Olga, then let her
marry

you. I won’t interfere with her freedom.” Princess Olga agreed and
married

the eagle. The eagle snatched her up and took her away to his
kingdom.

50

Mar’ia Morevna

Another year passed. Prince Ivan said to his youngest sister, “Let’s
go

and stroll in the green garden!” They strolled a bit, and once again a
storm
arose with a whirlwind, with lightning. “Let’s go back home, sister!”

They went back home, and they hadn’t yet had a chance to sit down

when thunder boomed, the ceiling split in two, and a raven flew in.
The

raven struck the floor and turned into a handsome young man. The
first

two were handsome, but this one was even more handsome. “Well,
Prince

Ivan! Before I came as a guest, but now I’ve come as a suitor. Let me
marry

Princess Anna.”

“I won’t limit my sister’s freedom. If you please her, she may marry
you.”

Princess Anna married the raven, and he took her away to his
kingdom.

Prince Ivan was left alone. For a whole year he lived without his
sisters,

and he started to feel bored. “I’ll go find my sisters,” he said. He got

ready

to travel, walked and walked, and saw a great army lying dead in the
field.

Prince Ivan asked, “If there’s anyone here alive, answer me! Who
destroyed

this great army?”

A man who was still alive called back to him, “This whole army was
killed by Mar’ia Morevna, the beautiful princess.”

Prince Ivan went on farther. He saw some white tents, and the
beautiful

princess Mar’ia Morevna came out to meet him. “Welcome, Prince!

Where

is God taking you—by your will or by compulsion?”

Prince Ivan answered her, “Fine young men don’t travel under
compulsion!”

“Well, if there’s no hurry, come and be a guest in my tents.”

Prince Ivan was glad to do so. He spent two nights in the tents, won

Mar’ia Morevna’s love, and married her.

Mar’ia Morevna, the beautiful princess, took him with her to her
realm.

They lived together for a certain time, and then the princess decided
to go to

war. She left all the household affairs to Prince Ivan and told him,
“You may

go everywhere and keep an eye on everything, but don’t let yourself

look

into that shed!”

He couldn’t stand it, and the moment Mar’ia Morevna rode away he

dashed straight to the shed, opened the door, and took a look.
Koshchei the
Deathless was hanging there, shackled with twelve chains. Koshchei
begged

Prince Ivan, “Take pity on me, give me a drink of water! I’ve been
suffering

here for ten years, I haven’t had anything to eat or drink. My throat’s
all

dried up!”

The prince gave him a whole bucket of water. Koshchei drank it up

and

asked for more.

51

Mar’ia Morevna

“I can’t quench my thirst with one bucket. Give me more!”

The prince gave him a second bucket.

Koshchei drank it up and asked for a third. As soon as he drank up

the

third bucket he regained his former strength, shook the chains, and
broke

all twelve at once.29

“Thank you, Prince Ivan!” said Koshchei the Deathless. “Now you’ll

never see Mar’ia Morevna again, no more than your own ears!” He
flew out
the window in a terrible whirlwind, caught up with Mar’ia Morevna on
the

road, snatched her up, and took her away to his palace.

But Prince Ivan cried very bitterly, armed himself, and set off on his
way.

“No matter what, I’ll find Mar’ia Morevna!”

He walked for a day, he walked for another, and at dawn on the third

day he saw a marvelous palace. An oak tree stood by the palace, and
on the

oak tree sat a bright falcon. The falcon flew down from the oak tree,
struck

the ground, turned into a handsome young man, and cried, “Ah, my
gracious

brother-in-law! How is the Lord favoring you?”

Princess Mar’ia ran out, greeted Prince Ivan joyfully, and began to
ask

about his health, to tell him about her daily life and being. The prince
was

their guest for three days, and then he said, “I can’t stay with you
long. I’m

going to search for my wife, Mar’ia Morevna, the beautiful princess.”

“It won’t be easy for you to find her,” answered the falcon. “Leave
your

silver spoon here just in case. We’ll look at it and think of you.” Prince
Ivan
left his silver spoon with the falcon and set off on his way.

He walked a day, he walked a second day, and at dawn on the third

day

he saw a palace even better than the first one. An oak tree stood
beside the

palace, and on the oak tree sat an eagle. The eagle flew down from
the tree,

struck the ground, turned into a handsome young man, and cried,
“Get up,

Princess Olga! Here comes our dear brother.”

Princess Olga ran out at once to greet him. She began to kiss and
hug

him, ask after his health, and tell him about her own life. Prince Ivan
spent

three days as their guest, and then he said, “I can’t stay any longer.
I’m going

to search for my wife, Mar’ia Morevna, the beautiful princess.”

The eagle answered, “It won’t be easy for you to find her. Leave us
your

silver fork, we’ll look at it and think of you.” He left the silver fork and
set

out on his way.

He walked a day, he walked for two, and at dawn on the third day he

saw a palace even better than the first two. An oak tree stood beside
the pal-
ace, and on the oak tree sat a raven. The raven flew down from the
oak tree,

52
Mar’ia Morevna

Baba Yaga by Viktor Korolkov

from the Entsiklopediia slavi-

anskoi mifologii by Bychkov,

Aleksei Aleksandrovich.

Moscow: AST, 2008, 2010.

Ed. Elena Grushko and Iurii

Medvedev.

53

Mar’ia Morevna

struck the ground, turned into a handsome young man, and cried,
“Princess

Anna! Come out right now, here’s our brother.”

Princess Anna ran out. She greeted him joyfully, began to kiss and
hug

him, ask after his health, tell him about her own life. Prince Ivan spent
three

days as their guest, and then he said, “Farewell! I’m off to search for
my

wife—Mar’ia Morevna, the beautiful princess.”

The raven answered, “It won’t be easy for you to find her. Why don’t
you

leave your silver snuffbox with us? We’ll look at it and think of you.”

The prince handed over his silver snuffbox, said good-bye, and set off
on his way. 30

He walked for one day, he walked for a second, and on the third day
he

reached Mar’ia Morevna. She saw her dear one, she threw herself
onto his

neck, dissolved in tears, and said, “Ah, Prince Ivan! Why didn’t you
listen to

me? You looked in the shed and set Koshchei the Deathless free!”

“Forgive me, Mar’ia Morevna! Let’s not mention things in the past.

Better come along with me while Koshchei the Deathless is not in

sight.

Perhaps he won’t be able to catch up to us!”

They got their things together and left. Koshchei was out hunting, but

toward evening, as he was coming home, his good horse stumbled

under-

neath him. “You insatiable nag, what are you tripping for? Or do you
sense

some misfortune?”

The horse answered, “Prince Ivan was here, he’s taken Mar’ia
Morevna away.”

“But can we catch them?”

“We could sow wheat, wait for it to grow, reap it, thresh it, make it into

flour, prepare five ovens full of bread,31 eat that bread, and then start
in pursuit—and even then we’d catch them!”
Koshchei galloped off and caught up with Prince Ivan. “Well,” he said,

“this first time I forgive you thanks to your kindness, because you
gave

me water to drink. I’ll pardon you a second time, too, but the third
time

beware—I’ll cut you up into pieces!” He took Mar’ia Morevna away

from

Ivan and rode away with her, but Prince Ivan sat down on a rock and

started crying.

He cried and cried, and then he went back again to get Mar’ia
Morevna.

Koshchei the Deathless happened to be out of the house. “Let’s ride

away,

Mar’ia Morevna!”

“Ah, Prince Ivan! He’ll catch us!”

“Let him catch us. At least we’ll spend an hour or two together.” They

got their things together and rode away.

54

Mar’ia Morevna

Koshchei the Deathless was returning home, and his good horse
stum-
bled underneath him. “What are you tripping for, you insatiable nag?
Or do

you sense some misfortune?”

“Prince Ivan was here, he’s taken Mar’ia Morevna away with him.”

“And can we catch up to them?”

“We could sow barley, wait for it to grow, reap and thresh it, brew
beer,

drink ourselves drunk, sleep it off, and then set off in pursuit—but
we’d

still make it!”

Koshchei galloped off and caught up with Prince Ivan. “I told you
you’d

never see Mar’ia Morevna, no more than your own ears!” He took her
and

rode back to his palace with her.

Prince Ivan was left alone. He cried and cried, and then he went back

again for Mar’ia Morevna. At that time Koshchei the Deathless was
not at

home. “Let’s go, Mar’ia Morevna!”

“Ah, Ivan Tsarevich! But he’ll catch us, he’ll cut you up into pieces.”

“Let him cut me up! I can’t live without you.” They got their things to-

gether and set off.

As Koshchei the Deathless was returning home, the good horse

stum-
bled underneath him. “What are you tripping for? Or do you sense
some

misfortune?”

“Ivan Tsarevich was here, he took Mar’ia Morevna with him.”

Koshchei galloped off, caught up with Prince Ivan, cut him up into
little

pieces, and put the pieces in a barrel sealed with pitch. He took that
barrel,

reinforced it with iron hoops, and threw it into the blue sea. Then he
took

Mar’ia Morevna back home with him.

Just then the silver Prince Ivan had left with his brothers-in-law turned

black. “Oh no,” they said, “it seems something bad has happened!”
The ea-

gle rushed to the blue sea, grabbed the barrel, and dragged it out
onto the

shore; the falcon flew to get living water, and the raven flew for dead
water.

All three of them flew back to the same place, broke open the barrel,
took

out the pieces of Prince Ivan, washed them and put them in order, the
way

they’re meant to be. The raven sprinkled him with dead water, and his
body

grew back together. The falcon sprinkled him with living water.
Prince Ivan jumped, stood up, and said, “Ah, I was asleep for such a
long

time!”

“You’d have slept even longer, if not for us!” his brothers-in-law an-

swered. “Now come, stay with us as a guest.”

“No, brothers! I’m off to search for Mar’ia Morevna.”

55

Mar’ia Morevna

He came to her and asked her, “Find out from Koshchei the
Deathless

where he got hold of such a good horse.”

So Mar’ia Morevna chose a good moment and started to ask

Koshchei

questions. Koshchei said, “Over thrice-nine lands, in the thrice-tenth

king-

dom, past a fiery river lives Baba Yaga. She has a special mare;
every day she

flies around the world on her. She has many other wonderful mares. I
spent

three days as her herdsman, I didn’t let a single mare out of my sight!
And

for that Baba Yaga gave me one little foal.”

“How did you make it across the fiery river?”

“I have a special handkerchief. When I wave it to the right three

times,

it makes a high-high bridge, and the fire can’t reach it!”

Mar’ia Morevna listened to this, told it all to Prince Ivan, took away
the

handkerchief, and gave it to him. 32

Prince Ivan made his way across the fiery river and went to see Baba

Yaga. He walked for a long time without drinking or eating. He came

across an overseas bird with its little young. Prince Ivan said, “I’ll eat
one

of your chicks.”

“Don’t eat it, Prince Ivan!” begged the overseas bird. “There’ll be a
time

when I’ll come in handy to you.”

He went along farther, and he saw a beehive in the forest. “I’ll take a
bit

of honey,” he said.

The queen bee called out, “Don’t touch my honey, Prince Ivan!
There’ll

be a time when I’ll come in handy to you.”

He didn’t touch it and went on. He came across a lioness with her
cub.

“I’ll at least eat this lion cub. I’m so hungry I feel sick!”
“Don’t touch it, Prince Ivan!” begged the lioness. “There’ll be a time

when I’ll come in handy for you.”

“Very well, I’ll do what you say!”33

He wandered along hungry, walked and walked—and there stood the

house of Baba Yaga. Twelve poles stood around the house. Eleven of
the

poles had human heads on top; only one of them was empty.

“Hello, granny!”

“Hello, Prince Ivan! How have you come—by your own good will, or

in need?”

“I’ve come to serve you for a bogatyr horse.”

“Go right ahead, Prince! You don’t have to serve me for a year, but
only

for three days. If you manage to herd my mares, I’ll give you a
bogatyr horse,

but if not, don’t be wrathful—your head will be stuck on the last pole.”

56

Mar’ia Morevna

Prince Ivan agreed. Baba Yaga fed him, gave him something to drink,

and ordered him to get to work.

No sooner had he driven the mares out to the field than the mares all

lifted their tails and all ran off to different meadows. Before the prince
even

had time to take a look, they had all disappeared. Then he started to
cry

and grieve, sat down on a stone, and fell asleep. The sun was
already setting

when the overseas bird came flying to him and said, “Wake up,
Prince Ivan!

The mares are home now.”

The prince got up and went back, but Baba Yaga was making a fuss
and

shouting at her mares. “Why did you come home?”

“How could we stay away? Birds came flying from all over the world,

they almost pecked our eyes out.”

“Well, tomorrow don’t run over the meadows, but scatter in the deep
forest.”

Prince Ivan slept all night. In the morning Baba Yaga said to him,

“Watch out, prince! If you don’t herd the mares, if you lose even one
of

them, then your wild head will be on a pole!”

He drove the mares out into the field. They immediately lifted their

tails and ran off into the deep forest. The prince sat down on a stone
again,
cried and cried, and fell asleep. When the sun was sinking behind the
forest,

the lioness came running up to him. “Get up, Prince Ivan! The mares
are all

together.”

Prince Ivan stood up and went home. Baba Yaga was making even
more

noise than the first time and shouting at her mares, “Why did you
come

back home?”

“How could we stay away? Wild beasts came running from all over
the

world, they almost tore us to pieces.”

“Well, then, tomorrow you run into the blue sea.”

Prince Ivan slept through the night again. In the morning Baba Yaga

sent him to herd the mares. “If you don’t herd them, then your wild
head

will be on a pole.”

He drove the mares out into the field. They immediately lifted their

tails, disappeared, and ran into the blue sea. They stood there with
water up

to their necks. Prince Ivan sat down on a stone, started to cry, and fell
asleep.
When the sun was setting behind the forest, a little bee came flying
and said,

“Get up, prince! The mares are all together. When you go back, don’t
let

Baba Yaga see you, but go into the stable and hide behind the crib.
There’s a

mangy foal there, rolling in the muck. You steal him and leave the
house at

the stroke of midnight.”

57
Mar’ia Morevna

A lacquer box by the young

Fedoskino miniaturist

Vladislav Maslov captures

Baba Yaga in her signature

mode of transportation.

Artist: Vladislav Maslov, from

the village of Fedoskino,

http://tinyurl.com/c8vayzy.
Prince Ivan got up, sneaked into the stable, and lay down behind the
crib.

Baba Yaga made a lot of noise and shouted at her mares, “What did
you

come back for?”

“How could we help coming back? Bees came flying visibly and
invisibly

from all over the world, and they started to sting us from all sides until
we

were bleeding! ”34

Baba Yaga fell asleep, and at the stroke of midnight Prince Ivan stole
her

mangy foal, saddled him, mounted him, and galloped to the fiery river.
He

came to the river, waved the handkerchief three times to the right,
and sud-

denly, out of nowhere, a great high bridge stood over the river. The
prince

crossed over the bridge and waved the handkerchief to the left only
twice—

a thin, thin bridge was left hanging there over the river!

In the morning Baba Yaga woke up, and there was no sign of the
mangy

foal! She raced in pursuit; she galloped at full speed in her iron
mortar, driv-
ing with the pestle, sweeping away her tracks with a broom. She
galloped up

to the fiery river, took a look, and said, “A good bridge!” She started to
cross

the bridge. She had only made her way to the middle when the bridge
broke,

and Baba Yaga went flump! into the river. There she met a cruel
death!

Prince Ivan fed his foal in green meadows, and it turned into a
marvel-

ous horse.

58

Mar’ia Morevna

The prince came riding to Mar’ia Morevna. She ran out and threw her

arms around him. “How has God resurrected you?” 35

“This is what happened, and that,” he said. “Come away with me.”

“I’m afraid, Prince Ivan! If Koshchei catches us, you’ll be cut into

pieces again.”

“No, he won’t catch us! I have a wonderful bogatyr horse now, he flies

like a bird.” They both climbed onto the horse and rode away.

When Koshchei the Deathless came home, his horse stumbled under
him. “What are you tripping for, you insatiable nag? Or do you sense
some

misfortune?”

“Prince Ivan was here, he’s taken Mar’ia Morevna away.”

“And can we catch them?”

“God knows! Now Prince Ivan has a bogatyr horse better than I am.”

“No, I can’t bear it!” said Koshchei the Deathless. “I’m going to chase
them.”

For a long time, for a short time—he rode and caught up with Prince

Ivan, jumped to the ground, and was about to stab him with his sharp

sword. But just then Prince Ivan’s horse kicked him with all his
strength and

knocked the brain out of his head, while the prince finished him off
with a

club. 36 After that, the prince piled up a mound of firewood, started a

fire,

burned Koshchei the Deathless on the bonfire, and scattered even

his ashes

to the wind.

Mar’ia Morevna mounted Koshchei’s horse, while Prince Ivan rode

his

own. They went to visit first the raven, then the eagle, and then the
fal-
con. Wherever they arrived, they were met everywhere with joy. “Ah,
Prince

Ivan! And we feared we’d never see you again. Well, you didn’t go to
all that

trouble for nothing. You could search the whole world for such a
beauty as

Mar’ia Morevna, but you’d never find a second one!”

They stayed a while as guests, feasted a while, and then they set off
for

their own kingdom. They came home and started to live and live well,
to

earn wealth and to drink mead.

(Afanas’ev, no. 159)

59

Moon and Star

In a certain kingdom, in a certain state there lived a tsar, and he

had no children. So he and his wife begged God to give them

a child for consolation. After a certain time the tsar’s wife grew

heavy with child, and they rejoiced greatly. They had a daugh-

ter, and they gave her the name Moon. And how glad the tsar

was! They hired all kinds of courtiers to teach her . . . After

a certain time the tsar’s wife grew heavy again, and everyone

was glad that God had given her such a gift. They had another

daughter, and they gave her the name Star.37 And what beauties
they both

were, so beautiful that it’s impossible to describe. It was more than

the mind

could grasp! And as those beautiful girls grew, people kept coming to
visit to

marvel at them . . .

When they were about twelve years old, one of the daughters had a

birthday. The tsar arranged a magnificent ball. People came from

every city

and province to offer their congratulations, and everyone wanted to

admire

their beauty. At one point the girls went out into the garden to take a
walk,

and they left their papa and mama inside. Suddenly a Whirlwind
came
rushing up, snatched both sisters, and carried them off . . . All the
guests

shouted; there was a great commotion. But the Whirlwind carried

them

higher and higher. All the guests were shouting, so the tsar ran
outside:

“What is it, what is it?”

“Oh, father tsar! Your children are up there!”

When the tsar heard this, he fell right over in a faint . . . The senators

immediately sent all the soldiers to search for the girls: perhaps they
had

fallen somewhere. They searched and searched, but they didn’t find
them

anywhere. They looked for them; they looked into a special mirror:
could

they be seen anywhere? No, they couldn’t be seen. They asked the
sorcerers;

the sorcerers searched for a day, and two, and three, for a week and
more. A

month passed, and no, there was no sign . . . They searched in the
forest but

didn’t find them. “It must be,” they said, “that they fell into the sea!”

60
Moon and Star

A year passed, and another . . . Then after several years the tsaritsa
grew

heavy with child and gave birth to Prince Ivan. And he grew not by
the day

but by the hour, and so smart, so clever! But the tsaritsa kept on
crying, she

cried inconsolably for her daughters, for Moon and Star. Prince Ivan
came

in and asked, “Mama, dear one, why are you crying?”

“It’s nothing,” she said.

“Mama, dear one, tell me!”

“Oh, my dear friend Vanechka, I had two daughters before you . . .

”38

“Where are they?”

She told him the story . . . “And there’s been neither sight nor sound
nor

any word of them!”

“Mama,” he said, “permit me to go search for my sisters.”

“No,” she said, “don’t go! You won’t find them . . . We lost our
daughters,”

she said, “and we’ll lose you too!” She begged him in every possible
way.
His father found out about this, asked about it, and then summoned
his

ministers. “Gentlemen,” he said, “my son cries day and night, he

wants to go

search for his sisters!”

The senators said, “Why not give him your blessing, if he has such a
wish?”

“How can he do this,” said the king, “at such a youthful age? How can

he have such ideas?” Then he grew angry at his wife, “Why did you
suggest

it to him?”

They thought and thought about it, and then they gave him their
blessing.

Prince Ivan said, “I could do without anything, but I would never go

without your blessing!” He set off, saying, “Mama! Don’t cry, don’t
grieve, I’ll

find my sisters!”

He walked for a week and for two through a forest, and suddenly he
saw

two forest spirits, ever so tall, who were fighting.

“Oh,” they said, “Prince Ivan, please be a judge for us.”

These forest spirits had three things: a self-setting tablecloth, a pair of

seven-league boots, and an invisible hat.

Prince Ivan agreed and said, “Here’s a milepost. Whoever reaches it
first

will get two of the things, and the one who comes after will get one of
them.”

They ran off, overtaking each other, reached the milepost and turned

around, but Prince Ivan had put on the invisible hat and they couldn’t
see him.

“Oh, where’s Prince Ivan? Where’s Prince Ivan?”

They ran around him, but they couldn’t see him. They searched for
three

hours, they cried, and they dashed off into the forest to search. But
Prince

Ivan took off the invisible hat and put on the seven-league boots.
When he

61

Moon and Star

took a step, he’d go five vyorsts, if he took another step he’d go

another five

vyorsts.

Now Ivan felt like eating. “So,” he said, “tablecloth, spread out!”
Suddenly

all kinds of dishes and drinks appeared. Some men were coming
down the
road. He called to them, “Men! Please come over here. Sit down
please,”

he said. They sat down and ate and drank their fill. Prince Ivan
thought,

“Thank God, I have everything I could need!” Meanwhile, the men he

had

invited were marveling, too; they thanked him and went on their way.

He set off, too, and he came into a deep forest. He came upon a
house

that stood on chicken knees, turning this way and that. “Little house,
little

house! Stand with your back to the forest, your front to me!”

The house turned around and Ivan went inside. There was a Baba-
Yaga,

an old woman sorceress. “Now,” she said, “the Russian spirit appears
before

my eyes! What, Prince Ivan, are you doing a deed or fleeing a deed?”

“I had two sisters who disappeared,” he said. “Do you know about
them?

Have you heard anything?”

“I know your sisters. The spirits took them away, and you won’t be
able

to get them. The Whirlwinds are so strong, magical. You can’t even
get close.
Your sister Moon,” she says, “is in the silver palace, and Star is in the
golden

palace. You won’t find them: it’s far, far away!”

“No,” he said, “I’ll go.”

“Well, go then; my sister lives closer to there. Here’s a ball of thread

for you. Wherever the ball of thread rolls, follow it, and you’ll come to
my

sister.”

He thanked the Baba-Yaga, and when the ball of thread rolled off, he
fol-

lowed. He walked for about a week and came to her second sister.
He went

into her house. This one was even angrier, meaner. “I’m mean, crafty
and

wise,” she said, “but our third sister is even meaner. Here’s a kerchief
for you,”

she said. “Give it to her as a present from me. Then she’ll let you
come in.”

Then he set off again after the ball of thread. He came to the house of

the third Baba-Yaga, and he gave her the kerchief from her sister as
a pres-

ent. “Well,” she said, “what’s your business?”

“I’m searching for my sisters,” he said. “Do you happen to know

where
my sisters are?”

“Moon,” she said, “is with the first Whirlwind; only there’s a stone wall,

and twelve men stand guard day and night. They won’t let you
through. And

about the other Whirlwind there’s nothing to say: he’s very mean.” So
the

prince said good-bye and went on his way.

62
Moon and Star

Artist unknown.

He came to the first palace. The stone wall was exceedingly high:
there

was no way at all to climb it, and twelve men stood there day and
night. He
came up and asked them to let him in, but they wouldn’t agree for
anything.

He put on the invisible hat and flew across. The sentries saw him
walking in

the courtyard. “Well,” they said, “it’s as if we’d let him in! It must have
been

a spirit testing us!”

But Prince Ivan went into the palace. He went into one room, but
there

was no one there. He went into a second room, a third, into the fifth,
and

there was his sister Moon resting on a couch, such a beauty . . . She
was ly-

ing there, resting in sound sleep. “Dear sister! Wake up, wake up!
Papa and

mama send their respects.”

“I don’t have any brothers,” she said.

Then he told her everything, and she rejoiced and was frightened.
She

cried and cried with joy. “Oh,” she says, “you know, the Whirlwind will
come

flying home now, and he’ll tear you into little pieces.”

“I’m not afraid,” he said, “of anyone in the world.”

“Oh,” she said, “he’s a mean one!”

63

Moon and Star

Prince Ivan showed her his invisible hat and calmed her down.
Suddenly

the Whirlwind came flying. Right away Prince Ivan put on his invisible
hat,

and he couldn’t be seen.

“Oh,” said the Whirlwind, “Moon, it smells of Russian spirit; it must be

that your brother has come.”

“I don’t have any brothers.”

So the Whirlwind raced to search for him. He looked everywhere, in

the cupboards and in the trunks, but he couldn’t find him anywhere.
“It

must be,” he said, “that your brother’s here!”

“Even if he is, what would you do?”

“Nothing,” said the Whirlwind.

“Prince Ivan, show yourself!” she said.

He took off the invisible hat. The Whirlwind saw him and said, “I am

crafty, but he’s even more sly. How did you get here?”

“Yes,” he said, “blood made me search, so I found her.”

Then his sister ran to bring something to eat.

“Don’t trouble yourself!” said Prince Ivan. “I’ll feed you. Tablecloth,

spread yourself!”

Then all sorts of food and drink appeared.

The Whirlwind ate and praised it all. “Oh, what food, what drinks there

are in Rus’!”

Prince Ivan stayed there for a week and then two.

Then his sister said, “You had better go to see Star. The Tsar-Maiden

lives just beyond her, and she has great power over these spirits.”

Prince Ivan said good-bye to Moon, and he set out to see his other
sis-

ter, Star.

He came to the palace; it had a very high wall. Twelve men were
stand-

ing there, and they didn’t let anyone into the palace. Star’s husband
was the

Whirlwind above all Whirlwinds, the most smothering. Just as before,

the

sentries wouldn’t let Prince Ivan pass. He put on his invisible hat and
went

through. They said, “There he is, walking around in the courtyard. It’s
a

spirit who was curious about us.”

Prince Ivan went up into the first room—there was no one; into the

second, the third, and in the fifth room he found his sister Star, even
more

splendid, resting in a sound sleep.

“My dear sister! Wake up, wake up; your brother has come to see
you,

and he brings respects from your father and mother.”

“No,” she said, “I don’t have any brothers.”

64

Moon and Star

Then he told her everything. She was so glad, so glad. But she said,
“My

Whirlwind is furious, though, and he’ll tear you to pieces.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, “he won’t see me.” He showed her the invisible
hat.

The Whirlwind came flying in. “Oh,” he said, “Star, it must be that your

brother is here. It smells of the Russian spirit. He must be here, show

him

to me!”

“But you’ll tear him apart!”

“I swear,” he said, “I won’t tear him apart.”

So Prince Ivan took off the invisible hat and stayed as a guest with
them

as well. Then he said to Star, “I’ll take you away!”

“No, the Whirlwind would catch up with us . . . But in this kingdom

there’s a Tsar-Maiden, and she has great power over these spirits . . .
She

wants to meet you.”

So Prince Ivan stayed as a guest of his sister for a week and for two,
said

good-bye, and set off . . . He came to the Tsar-Maiden, and she was
so glad.

The Tsar-Maiden was a true beauty.

“Oh, Prince Ivan, how did God bring you here?”

“Blood led me here,” he said. “Can you fulfill my request and help me

rescue my sisters? I’ll take you as my spouse.”

“All right,” she said. “I have a twelve-headed dragon. He’s been

shackled in

chains for twelve years, but I’ll let him free, and he’ll defeat the
Whirlwinds.”

Then they spoke for a while.

“Well,” she said, “Prince Ivan, let’s go get the dragon!”

They went there, and she asked her dragon, “Could you defeat those
two

spirits—the Whirlwinds?”
“I can,” he said, “only give me time for a month to eat as much beef
and

drink as much beer as I want.”

They set the dragon free, and every day they gave him a whole bull
to

eat and a vat of beer. The dragon began to gain weight. A month
passed; the

dragon took his weapons, and he flew off. “Wait here,” he said.

He flew to those spirits. The spirits flew toward him; they fought, and

they fought, they knocked off ten heads, but he got them with fire,
with his

claws . . . He killed them, threw their bodies into the sea, and brought
their

heads to the Tsar-Maiden.

Prince Ivan and the Tsar-Maiden came riding to the field and met the

dragon with joy. Then they went to Star.

“My dear sister!” said Prince Ivan. “Here’s what the Tsar-Maiden has

done for you!”

65

Moon and Star

They rejoiced and celebrated. And they gave the dragon his own dear
freedom, and he could eat and drink all he wanted. The dragon was
so glad,

so glad to be free. And once again he grew twelve heads: for the
dragon is a

spirit . . .

They feasted with Star for a week. Then she said, “What’s Moon
think-

ing now? She doesn’t see her spirit!”

Prince Ivan said, “Well, dear sister, pack your things and let’s go!”

“What should I pack?”

They went out onto the porch. She said a word39 and rolled an egg
on

a golden saucer: “Roll my house into the golden egg! Flying carpet!
Fly in

to me!”

A flying carpet appeared, and all three of them flew to see Moon.

When they came to his sister, he said, “Well, my dear sister, we have

to get our things together!” She came out on the porch, said a word,
rolled

an egg on a silver saucer, and the house rolled up into the silver egg.
They

sat down on the flying carpet and flew away like birds to their own
coun-
try. They came to the garden and unrolled the egg—and a palace
appeared.

They unrolled the other egg—another palace . . .

Just then an ambassador was out riding, and he reported to the tsar,

“Two palaces have appeared in your garden!” The tsar came out and
found

out about everything. What joy it was . . . The tsar arranged a ball,
Prince

Ivan got married, and the tsar gave him his kingdom. Then they
began to

live and live, and to store up riches. 40

(Khudiakov, no. 108)

66

Prince Danila-Govorila
Once there lived an old princess. She had a son and

daughter who were still growing, both so noble and

good. 41

An evil witch took a dislike to them and won-

dered how she could ruin them. She mulled it over

and came up with an idea. She turned herself into a

fox, went to their mother, and said, “My dear gossip!

Here’s a little ring for you. Put it on your son’s finger.

It’ll make him rich and quick on the uptake, if only he never takes it off
and

if he marries a girl whose finger fits the ring!”

The old woman believed her and was happy. As she was dying, she
or-

dered her son to marry a girl whose finger fit the ring.

Time passed, and her son was growing up. He came of age and
started

to look for a bride. One pleased him, another caught his eye, but
when they

tried on the ring it was either too small or too big. It didn’t fit one or
the

other. He traveled and traveled through towns and cities, tried all the
lovely

maidens, but didn’t find anyone to be his intended.

He came home and got pensive. “What are you upset about,
brother?”

asked his sister.

He revealed his misfortune to her, told her his grief.

“What odd kind of ring is this?” asked the sister. “Let me try it on.”
She

put it on her slender finger—and the ring tightened, shone, and fit on
her

hand as if it had been poured on purpose just for her.

“Ah, sister, you’re my intended, it’s you who’ll be my wife!”

“What are you saying, brother? Think about God, think about sin! Do

people marry their own sisters?”

But her brother wouldn’t listen. He danced with joy and ordered the

wedding preparations. She dissolved in bitter tears, left the sunlit

room, and

sat on the threshold. Her tears poured like a river!

Some old pilgrim women were passing by. She invited them in to
have

some food and drink. They asked: what was troubling her, what was
her

sorrow? There was no point hiding it, so she told them everything.

67
Prince Danila-Govorila

“Well, don’t cry, don’t grieve, but listen to us. Make four dolls, set
them

in the four corners. When your brother starts calling you to join him
under

the marriage crown, go. When he starts to call you into the sunlit
room,

don’t be in a hurry. Hope in God. Farewell.” The old women went

away.

The brother and sister got married. He went into the sunlit room and

said, “Sister Katerina, come to bed!”

She answered, “In a moment, brother. Let me take off my earrings.”

And the dolls in the four corners began to lament:

Cuckoo, Prince Danila!

Cuckoo, Govorila!

Cuckoo, you want to marry,

Cuckoo, your own sister.

Cuckoo, earth split open,

Cuckoo, sister fall through!

The earth began to split open, and the sister began to fall in.

The brother shouted, “Sister Katerina, come to bed!”

“In a moment, brother! Let me untie my belt!”

The dolls kept on lamenting:

Cuckoo, Prince Danila!

Cuckoo, Govorila!

Cuckoo, you want to marry,

Cuckoo, your own sister.

Cuckoo, earth split open,

Cuckoo, sister fall through!

By now you couldn’t see anything but her head. Her brother called

again. “Dear sister Katerina, come to bed!”

“Right away, brother! Let me take off my slippers.”

The dolls kept on lamenting, and the earth closed over her.

Her brother called again. He called even louder—no answer! He got

angry, came running, slammed into the doors, and the doors flew
open. He

looked everywhere—but it was as if his sister had never been there.

Only

the dolls sat in the corners, and they kept on lamenting: “Earth split
open,

sister fall through!” He grabbed an axe, cut off their heads, and threw
them

all into the stove.

68
Prince Danila-Govorila

But the sister walked and walked under the ground, and she saw a

house standing on chicken legs. It stood there and turned around.

“Little

house, little house! Stand with your back to the forest and your front
to me.”

The house stood still, and the doors opened.

In the little house sat a lovely maiden. She was embroidering a piece
of

cloth with silver and gold. She greeted her guest kindly, sighed and
said, “My

dear, my little sister! My heart is glad to see you. I’ll welcome you and
treat

you well, as long as my mother isn’t here. But when she flies home,
then woe

to you and me both. My mother’s a witch!”

Her guest was frightened to hear such words, but she had nowhere

else to go. She sat down with her hostess at the piece of cloth. They
sewed

and chatted. For a long time or a short time, the hostess knew what
time it

was, she knew when her mother would come flying home. She turned
her
guest into a little needle, stuck it into a garland, and stood the garland
in

the corner.

No sooner had she put everything away than the witch was lurking at

the door: “My good daughter, my comely daughter! It smells of bones

from

Rus’!”

“My lady mother! People were walking by. They came in to have a

drink of water.”

“Why didn’t you make them stay?”

“They were old, my dear, not to your taste.”

“From now on see to it—call everyone into the yard, don’t let anyone

out of the yard. And I’ll pick up my heels and go back out after
plunder.”

She went away, and the girls sat down at the length of cloth, sewed,

talked, and laughed.

The witch came flying. Sniff, sniff through the house. “My good
daugh-

ter, my comely daughter! It smells of bones from Rus’!”

“Some old men just came in to warm their hands. I tried to make them

stay, but they wouldn’t.”

The witch was hungry. She gave her daughter a tongue-lashing and
flew
away again. Her guest had been sitting hidden in the garland. They
set right

back to sewing the cloth. They sewed and made haste, and tried to
figure out

how they could escape from misfortune, run away from the wicked
witch.

They hadn’t even managed to look at each other or whisper to each

other

when she was at the door, speak of the devil, and caught them by
surprise.

“My good daughter, my comely daughter! It smells of a bone from

Rus’!”

“Well, you see, Mother, a fair maiden is waiting for you.”

69

Prince Danila-Govorila

The fair maiden took a look at the old woman and was horror struck!

There stood a Baba Yaga, bony leg, nose grown into the ceiling. “My
good

daughter, my comely daughter! Stoke the stove as hot as can be!”

They

brought firewood of oak and maple and built a fire. Flames flickered
from

the stove.
The witch took a wide paddle and began to entreat the guest, “Sit
down,

my beauty, on the paddle.” The beauty sat down. The witch pushed
her to-

ward the oven, but she put one leg into the oven and the other onto
the stove.

“What, girl, don’t you know how to sit? Sit down properly!” She
changed her

position and sat down properly. The witch moved her into the
opening, but

once again she put one leg into the oven and the other under the
stove.

The witch flew into a rage and pulled her back out. “You’re playing

around, playing around, young lady! Sit still, like this. Watch me!”

She flopped down on the paddle and stuck out her legs. The maidens

quickly shoved her into the oven, set her down there, closed the
latches,

piled up logs, smeared and sealed it with pitch, and set off at a run,
taking

along the embroidered cloth, a brush, and a comb.

They ran and ran, and then they took a look behind them. The evil

woman had fought her way out. She caught sight of them and started
to

whistle: “Hi, hi, hi! You over there!”

What could they do? They threw down the brush, and it grew up into
a

thick, thick patch of reeds. She wouldn’t be able to crawl through. The
witch

put out her claws, pinched a path through, and she drew closer to
them

again . . . Where could they hide? They threw down the comb—it
grew up

into a dark, dark oak wood. A fly couldn’t have flown through it.

The witch sharpened her teeth and got to work. Whatever she
grabbed,

she’d pull a tree up by the roots! She tossed them in all directions,
cleared a

path and started chasing again . . . She got even closer!

They ran and ran, but there was nowhere to go. They had used up all

their strength! They threw the gold-embroidered cloth, and it poured

out

into a wide sea, deep and fiery. The witch rose high up. She wanted
to fly

over it, but she fell down into the fire and burned up.

The two maidens were left alone, homeless doves. They had to go
some-

where, but where? They didn’t know. They sat down to rest.

Then a man came over to them, asked who they were, and reported
to
his master that there were not two migratory birds, but two young
maidens,

as beautiful as if they had been painted, sitting in his lands. They

were just

alike in height and nobility, brow for brow, eye for eye. “One of them
must

be your sister, but which one? We can’t figure it out.”

70

Prince Danila-Govorila

The master went to take a look and called them to him. He saw that
one

of them was his sister, the servant hadn’t lied, but which one? He
couldn’t

make it out, and she was angry and wouldn’t tell him. What was he to
do?

“Well, here’s what, my lord! I’ll fill a ram’s bladder with blood and put it

under your arm. You chat with your guests, and I’ll come up and catch
you in

the side with a knife. The blood will flow, and your sister will reveal
herself!”

“All right!”

They did this just as they had planned it. The servant caught his
master
in the side, the blood spurted, and the brother fell down. The sister
ran to

embrace him, and she cried and lamented, “My dear, my

incomparable one!”

But the brother jumped up neither burned nor hurt. He hugged his

sister and gave her in marriage to a good man, while he married her
friend,

whose hand fit the ring perfectly. And they all lived marvelously ever
after.

(Afanas’ev, no. 114)

71

Prince Ivan and Beloy Polyanin

In a certain kingdom, in a certain state there once lived a tsar.

This tsar had three daughters and one son, Prince Ivan. The
tsar grew old and died, and Prince Ivan took the crown. As

soon as the neighboring kings learned about this, they imme-

diately gathered numberless armies and set off to make war

against him. Prince Ivan didn’t know what to do. He went to

his sisters and asked, “My dearest sisters, what can I do? All the

kings have risen in war against me.”

“Oh, such a brave warrior! What are you frightened of? How is it that

Beloy Polyanin42 makes war against Baba Yaga, golden leg? For
thirty years

he hasn’t dismounted from his horse, and he knows no rest. But

you’re

frightened, even though you haven’t seen anything yet!”

Prince Ivan at once saddled his good horse, put on his battle
harness,

took his sword, his long-measuring spear, and his silken lash, said a
prayer

to God, and rode out against the enemy. He didn’t strike with his
sword

so much as he trampled with his horse. He battered through all the

enemy

forces, returned to the city, lay down to sleep, and slept for three days
with-

out waking. On the fourth day he woke up, went out onto the balcony,
and
looked at the open field. The kings had gathered an even larger force
and

had come back up to the very walls.

The prince was sad, and he went to his sisters. “Ah, my sisters! What
can

I do? I wiped out one force, but now another one stands beneath the
city

walls, threatening us even more than the first.”

“What kind of warrior are you? You fought for one day, and then you

slept for three days without waking. How is it that Beloy Polyanin
fights

against Baba Yaga, golden leg, and hasn’t dismounted from his horse
for

thirty years, and knows no rest?”

Prince Ivan ran into the white-stoned stable, saddled up his good bo-

gatyr horse, put on his battle harness, girded on his sword, took his
long-

aiming spear in one hand, his silken lash in the other, said a prayer to
God,

and went out against the enemy. It was not a bright falcon flying at a
flock

72

Prince Ivan and Beloy Polyanin

of geese, swans, and gray ducks—it was Prince Ivan attacking the
enemy

force. He himself didn’t strike as much as his horse trampled. He beat

down

the forces of the great host, returned home, lay down to sleep, and
slept for

six days without waking. On the seventh day he awoke, came out
onto the

balcony, and looked at the open field. The kings had collected an
even larger

army and had once again surrounded the whole city.

Prince Ivan went to his sisters. “My dearest sisters! What can I do? I

wiped out two armies, but a third one stands at the walls, threatening
us

even more.”

“Ah, you brave warrior! You fought for one day, then you slept for six

without waking. How is it that Beloy Polyanin fights with Baba Yaga,

golden leg? For thirty years he hasn’t dismounted from his horse, he
knows

no rest.”

This seemed bitter to the prince. He ran to the white-stoned stables,

saddled his good bogatyr horse, put on his battle harness, girded on
his
sword, took his long-aiming spear in one hand, his silken lash in the
other,

said a prayer to God, and rode out against the enemy. It was not a
bright

falcon flying at a flock of geese, swans, and gray ducks; it was Prince
Ivan

attacking the enemy army. He himself didn’t strike so much as his

horse

trampled. He beat down the forces of the great host, returned home,
lay

down to sleep, and slept without waking for nine days. On the ninth
day he

awoke and called all the ministers and senators. “Gentlemen, my

ministers

and senators! I have decided to travel to distant lands, to take a look

at Beloy

Polyanin. While I’m away, I ask you to judge and keep order, to
resolve all

matters of justice.” After that he said good-bye to his sisters, mounted

his

horse, and set out on his way.

For a long time or a short time, he rode in a thick forest. He saw a

little

house standing. An old man lived in that house. Prince Ivan dropped
in to

see him. “Hello, granddad!”

“Hello, Russian prince! Where is God carrying you?”

“I’m seeking Beloy Polyanin. Do you happen to know where he is?”

“I don’t know myself, but wait a moment. I’ll gather all my faithful ser-

vants and ask them.” The old man stepped out onto the porch, began
to play

a silver horn, and suddenly all the birds came flying to him from all
direc-

tions. A visible and invisible number of them flew; they covered the
whole

sky in a black cloud. The old man shouted in a loud voice and
whistled a

heroic whistle. “My faithful servants, flying birds! Have you seen or
heard

anything about Beloy Polyanin?”

“No, we haven’t seen or heard anything!”

73

Prince Ivan and Beloy Polyanin

“Well, Prince Ivan!” said the old man. “Now go see my older brother;

perhaps he’ll be able to tell you. Here, take this ball of thread and let
it go

before you. Wherever the ball of thread rolls, you turn your horse that
way.”
Prince Ivan mounted his good horse, rolled the ball of thread, and
rode off

after it, and the forest got darker and darker.

The prince came to a little house, and he went in the door; in the
house

sat an old man, his hair white as snow. “Hello, granddad!”

“Hello, Russian prince! Where does your road lead you?”

“I’m seeking Beloy Polyanin. Do you happen to know where he is?”

“Now, wait here while I gather my faithful servants, and I’ll ask them.”

The old man stepped out onto the porch and began to play a silver
horn,

and suddenly all kinds of animals came running over from all
directions.

He shouted to them in a loud voice and whistled a bogatyr whistle.

“My

faithful servants, leaping beasts! Have you seen or heard anything

about

Beloy Polyanin?”

“No,” answered the beasts, “we haven’t seen or heard anything.”

“Well then, count yourselves. Perhaps not everyone is here.”

The beasts counted themselves, and one lame she-wolf came up

miss-

ing. The old man sent runners to look for her, and they went right out
and
brought her. “Tell me, crooked she-wolf! Do you happen to know
where

Beloy Polyanin is?”

“Of course know I, because I always live near him. He wins battles,
and

I feed on the corpses.”

“Where is he now?”

“In the open field. He’s asleep in a tent on a great burial mound. He
was

fighting with Baba Yaga, golden leg, and after the battle he lay down
to sleep

for twelve days.”

“Well, then, take Prince Ivan there.” The she-wolf ran off, and the
prince

galloped after her. Soon he came to the great burial mound and went
into

the tent. Beloy Polyanin was sleeping soundly. “There, my sisters told
me

that Beloy Polyanin fought without rest, but he lay down and went to
sleep

for twelve days! Shouldn’t I sleep for a while, too?” Prince Ivan
thought and

thought, and then he lay down beside him.

Just then a little bird flew into the tent, hovered at the very head of
the bed, and said these words: “Get up, wake up, Beloy Polyanin,
and

hand my brother, Prince Ivan, over to an evil death. Otherwise, he’ll

get

up and kill you!”

Prince Ivan leapt up, caught the bird, tore off its right leg, threw it out-

side the tent, and lay back down next to Beloy Polyanin. He hadn’t
had time

74

Prince Ivan and Beloy Polyanin

to go back to sleep when another little bird flew in, hovered at the
head of

the bed, and said, “Get up, wake up, Beloy Polyanin, and turn my
brother

Prince Ivan over to an evil death. Otherwise, he’ll get up and kill you!”

Prince Ivan leapt up, caught the bird, tore off its right wing, threw it
out

of the tent, and lay back down in the same place.

Right after that a third little bird flew in, hovered at the head of the
bed,

and said, “Get up, wake up, Beloy Polyanin, and hand my brother
Prince

Ivan over to an evil death; otherwise, he’ll get up and kill you!”
Prince Ivan jumped up, caught that bird, and tore off its beak. He
threw

the bird outside, lay down, and fell sound asleep.

The time came and Beloy Polyanin woke up. He looked and saw who

knows what kind of bogatyr lying next to him. He grabbed his sharp
sword

and wanted to hand him over to an evil death, but he stopped himself

in time. “No,” he thought. “He came upon me while I was asleep, and
he

didn’t want to bloody his sword. It would be no honor and no praise to

me, a handsome young man, if I slew him! A sleeping man is like a

dead

man! Better I should wake him.” He woke up Prince Ivan and said to
him,

“Good man or evil man! Tell me, what is your name and why have
you

stopped by here?”

“They call me Prince Ivan, and I came here to see you, to test your

strength.”

“You’re mighty brave, prince! You came into my tent without asking,

and you went to sleep without announcing yourself. You could have
met

your death for that!”

“Eh, Beloy Polyanin! You haven’t jumped over the trench yet, but
you’re

bragging. Wait and see, perhaps you’ll stumble! You have two arms,
but I

don’t have only one either, as my mother bore me.”

They mounted their bogatyr horses, rode toward each other, and
struck

each other so hard that their spears shattered into fragments, and the
good

horses fell to their knees. Prince Ivan knocked Beloy Polyanin out of
his

saddle and lifted his sharp sword over him.

Beloy Polyanin began pleading with him. “Don’t hand me over to

death!

Grant me my life! I’ll call myself your younger brother, and I’ll honor
you

like a father!”

Prince Ivan took him by the hand, raised him from the ground, kissed

him on the lips, and called him his younger brother. “I heard, brother,
that

you’ve been fighting for thirty years against Baba Yaga, golden leg.
Why are

you at war?”

“She has a beautiful daughter, and I want to win her for my wife.”
75

Prince Ivan and Beloy Polyanin

Baba Yaga riding a pig

and fighting the infernal

Crocodile, early seventeenth

century, anonymous. This

satirical lubok (popular

woodcut print) depicts Baba

Yaga, dressed in traditional

Estonian costume, mounted

on a pig as she battles the

infernal Crocodile. Some-

times interpreted as a satire

by the religious Old Believers

on the secularizing Peter the

Great, whom they dubbed

Crocodile, and his second

wife, Catherine, a native of

Estonia, the scene likely dra-

matizes a marital squabble.

Since no fairy tale mentions

Baba Yaga’s conjugal status,

despite her role of mother,

this lubok draws on her repu-

tation not as a quarrelsome

spouse, but as a termagent.

Artist unknown, possibly by

“Well,” said the prince, “if we’re going to be friends, then we should
help

Korenj Wassilij circa 1700,

each other in misfortune! Let’s go to battle together.”

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/

They mounted their horses and rode out into the open field. Baba
Yaga,

File:Babayaga_lubok.jpg.

golden leg, had raised an uncountable host and force. It was not
bright fal-

cons that swooped upon a flock of doves, but mighty and powerful
bogatyrs

who flew at the enemy army! They didn’t so much cut with their
swords as

they trampled with their horses. They slashed and trampled whole
thou-

sands. Baba Yaga hurried to run away and escape, but Prince Ivan
went off

after her. He was about to catch right up to her when suddenly she
came

to a deep hole in the ground, lifted an iron board, and disappeared

under

the ground.

Prince Ivan and Beloy Polyanin gathered a great number of bulls,

killed
them, flayed their hides, and cut straps. From those hides they wove
a ca-

ble—and such a long one that if you had one end here, the other
could reach

all the way to the other world. The prince said to Beloy Polyanin,
“Lower me

right away into the hole, and don’t pull the cable back out, but wait.
When

I tug on the cable, then pull it!” Beloy Polyanin lowered him into the
hole,

to the very bottom. Prince Ivan took a look around and set off to
search for

Baba Yaga.

He walked and walked, looked, and saw some tailors sitting behind a

grating. “What are you doing?”

76
Prince Ivan and Beloy Polyanin

Titled Baba Yaga and the

Epic Hero, this contemporary

response to the eighteenth-

century lubok is by Sergei

Tyukanov, an artist who

works in various media and

is strongly influenced by Hi-

eronymus Bosch. Illustration

by Sergei Tyukanov, http://

www.tyukanov.com/.

“Here’s what, Prince Ivan. We’re sitting and sewing an army for Baba

Yaga, golden leg.”

“How do you sew it?”

“Here’s how: as soon as you stick in a needle, you get a Cossack

with a

pike. He mounts a horse, they get into formation, and then they go to
make

war against Beloy Polyanin.”

“Eh, brothers! Your work’s quick, but not strong. Line up, I’ll show

you how to sew stronger.” They immediately got into a single line, but
that

very moment Prince Ivan swung his sword, and their heads went
flying. He

killed all the tailors and went farther along. He walked and walked,
looked,

and saw some cobblers sitting behind a grating. “What are you doing
here?”

“We’re sitting and putting together an army for Baba Yaga, golden
leg.”

“How do you make an army, brothers?”

“Well, here’s how: whenever we poke with the awl, we get a soldier
with
a rifle. He mounts a horse, gets into formation, and goes to make war
against

Beloy Polyanin.” 43

“Hey, lads! Your work’s fast, but not careful. Line up, I’ll show you how

to do it better.” So they stood in a line. Prince Ivan swung his sword,

and

their heads went flying. He killed the cobblers and got back on the
road.

For a long time or for a short time, he made his way to a large,
splendid

city. Royal chambers stood in that city, and in those chambers sat a
maiden

77

Prince Ivan and Beloy Polyanin

of indescribable beauty. She saw the handsome young man in the

window;

she fell in love with his black curls, his falcon eyes, his sable brows,
his bogatyr

movements. She called the prince to her, asked him who he was and
where

he was going. He told her that he was looking for Baba Yaga, golden
leg.

“Ah, Prince Ivan! Why, I’m her daughter. She’s sound asleep now.
She
lay down to rest for twelve days.”

She led him out of the city and showed him the way. Prince Ivan went
to

Baba Yaga, golden leg, found her asleep, struck her with his sword,
and cut

her head off. The head rolled and said, “Strike again, Prince Ivan!”

“One blow from a bogatyr is enough!” answered the prince. He

returned

to the chamber and the fair maiden, and sat down with her at the oak
tables,

by the laden tablecloths. He ate and drank his fill, and he began to
ask her,

“Is there anyone in the world stronger than I and more beautiful than
you?”

“Ah, Prince Ivan! What kind of beauty am I? Over thrice-nine lands, in

the thrice-tenth kingdom there is a queen who lives with the dragon
tsar.

That one’s truly an indescribable beauty. I’ve just washed my face

with the

water she used to wash her feet!”

Prince Ivan took the fair maiden by her white hand, led her to the

place where the cord was hanging, and gave the sign to Beloy
Polyanin. He

grabbed the cable and began to lift. He pulled and pulled, and he
hauled out
the prince with the fair maiden.

“Hello, Beloy Polyanin!” said Prince Ivan. “Here’s your bride. Live and

be happy, may you know no sorrow! And I’m off to the dragon
kingdom.”

He mounted his bogatyr horse, said farewell to Beloy Polyanin and

his

bride, and rode off over thrice-nine lands. For a long time or for a
short

time, low or high—speedily a tale is spun, but not so fast a deed is

done—

he came to the dragon kingdom, slew the dragon tsar, freed the
beautiful

princess from captivity, and married her. After that he returned home
and

began to live and live well with his young wife and to earn great
wealth. 44

(Afanas’ev, no. 161)

78
The Bear Tsar

Once there lived a tsar and his wife, and they had no

children. One day the tsar rode out to hunt beauti-

ful beasts and to shoot at migratory birds. It got hot,

and he wanted a drink of water. He saw a well to

one side, went up to it, bent over and was about to

drink his fill—but the Bear Tsar45 grabbed him by

the beard.

“Let me go,” begged the tsar.

“Give me the thing you have at home that you don’t know. Then I’ll let
go.”

“What would I not know at home?” thought the tsar. “It seems I know

everything . . .”

“I’d rather give you a herd of cattle,” he said.

“No, I don’t even want two herds.”

“Well, then, take a herd of horses.”

“I don’t need even two herds. Give me the thing in your house that
you

don’t know.”

The tsar agreed, freed his beard, and rode home. He walked into his

palace, and his wife had just given birth to twins: Prince Ivan and
Princess

Mar’ia. 46 That’s what he didn’t know in his house. The tsar threw up
his

hands and started crying bitterly.

“What’s the matter? Why are you crying like that?” the tsaritsa asked
him.

“How can I help but cry? I’ve given my own children away to the Bear
Tsar.”

“And how did that happen?”

“Like this and like that,” the tsar explained.

“But we won’t give them up!”

“Oh, that’s impossible! He’ll ruin the whole kingdom, but he’ll take
them

in the end.”

So they thought and thought about what they could do. And they
came
up with an idea. They dug a very deep hole, furnished it, and
decorated it

as if it were a palace. They brought in all kinds of provisions, so

there’d be

79

The Bear Tsar

something to eat and drink. After they put their children into the hole,
they

made a ceiling on the top, covered it with earth, and scraped it until it
was

completely even.

Not long after that the tsar and tsaritsa died, but their children grew

and grew. Finally the Bear Tsar came for them. He looked here and
there,

but there was nobody there! The palace was empty. He walked,
walked,

walked around the whole house and thought, “Who can tell me about
the

tsar’s children, where they’re hiding?” He looked and saw an awl

stuck

into the wall. “Awl, awl,” asked the Bear Tsar. “Tell me, where are the
tsar’s

children?”
“Take me out into the yard and throw me to the ground. Where I fall

and stick in the earth, dig there.”

The Bear Tsar took the awl, went out into the yard, and threw it to the

ground. The awl spun, twisted, and stuck right in the place where
Prince

Ivan and Princess Mar’ia were hidden. The bear dug through the dirt
with

his paws, broke through the ceiling, and said, “Ah, Prince Ivan, ah,
Princess

Mar’ia, there you are! They thought they could hide you from me!
Your

father and mother tricked me, so for that I’ll eat you up.”

“Ah, Bear Tsar, don’t eat us, our father left a lot of chickens and
geese

and all kinds of goods. There are things to whet your appetite.”

“All right, let it be so! Climb up on my back. I’ll take you to serve me.”

They climbed up on his back, and the Bear Tsar took them to
mountains

so steep and high that they went up to the very sky. No one lived
there; it was

all deserted. “We’re hungry and thirsty,” said Prince Ivan and Princess
Mar’ia.

“I’ll run and bring you something to eat and drink,” answered the bear.

“You stay here for now and rest.”

The bear ran off to get food, but the prince and princess stood and
cried

many tears. Out of nowhere a bright falcon47 appeared, flapped his

wings

and said these words, “Ah, Prince Ivan and Princess Mar’ia, what
kind of fate

has brought you here?” They told the story. “Why did the bear take
you?”

“To serve him in every way.”

“Do you want me to take you away? Climb up on my wings.”

They climbed up. The bright falcon rose up higher than a standing
tree,

lower than a passing cloud, and was about to fly away to distant
lands. At

that moment the Bear Tsar ran back, caught sight of the falcon high in
the

sky, struck his head against the damp earth, and burned the bird’s
wings

with flame. The falcon’s wings were singed, and he dropped the
prince and

princess to the ground.

80

The Bear Tsar

“Ah,” said the bear. “You wanted to leave me. For that, I’ll eat you up,

even your bones!”

“Don’t eat us, Bear Tsar. We’ll serve you faithfully.”

The bear forgave them and took them toward his kingdom; the moun-

tains got higher and higher, steeper and steeper.

Time passed, neither much nor little. “Ah,” said Prince Ivan. “I want

something to eat!”

“Me, too!” said Princess Mar’ia.

The Bear Tsar ran off to get food, but he gave them strict orders not
to

leave that spot. They sat on the green grass and tears fell from their
eyes.

Out of nowhere an eagle appeared, soared down from above the

clouds, and

asked, “Ah, Prince Ivan and Princess Mar’ia, by what fates have you
wound

up here?” They told the story. “Do you want me to take you away?”

“How could you! The bright falcon tried to take us away, but he
couldn’t

do it, and you won’t be able to either!”

“The falcon is a small bird. I’ll fly off higher than he can. Climb up on

my wings.”

The prince and princess climbed on. The eagle flapped his wings and
flew up even higher. The bear came running, caught sight of the
eagle high

in the sky, struck his head against the damp earth, and singed the
bird’s

wings. The eagle dropped Prince Ivan and Princess Mar’ia to the
ground.

“Ah, you tried to run away again!” said the bear. “I’ll eat you up for
that!”

“Don’t eat us, please. The eagle tempted us! We’ll serve you in faith
and

truth.”

The Bear Tsar forgave them for the last time, fed them and gave them

something to drink, and took them on farther.

Time passed, neither a lot nor a little. “Ah,” said Prince Ivan, “I want

something to eat!”

“Me, too!” said Princess Mar’ia.

The Bear Tsar left them and ran off to get food. They were sitting on

the green grass and crying. Out of nowhere a little shitty bullock
appeared,

shook his head, and asked, “Prince Ivan, Princess Mar’ia! By what
fates have

you turned up here?” They told the story. “Do you want me to take
you away

from here?”
“How could you! The falcon-bird and the eagle-bird tried to carry us

away, and they couldn’t do it. You won’t be able to for sure!” and they
burst

into tears—they could hardly say a word in their weeping.

“The birds couldn’t take you away, but I’ll take you away! Climb up on

81

The Bear Tsar

my back.” They climbed up, and the shitty bullock ran off, not terribly
fast.

The bear caught sight of the prince and princess trying to escape,
and he

raced after them in pursuit. “Ah, shitty bullock!” shouted the tsar’s
children,

“the bear is chasing us.”

“Is he far away?”

“No, he’s close!”

No sooner had the bear jumped close—he was about to grab them!—

but the little bullock strained a bit . . . and pasted both his eyes shut.
The

bear ran to the blue sea to wash out his eyes, but the shitty bullock
kept
going on and on! The Bear Tsar washed himself off and started back
in

pursuit.

“Ah, little shitty bullock! The bear’s after us!”

“Is he far?”

“Oh, he’s close!”

The bear jumped up, but the little bullock strained again . . . and
pasted

both his eyes shut. While the bear was running to wash out his eyes,
the

little bullock kept going on and on! And he pasted the bear’s eyes
shut for

a third time. After that he gave Prince Ivan a comb and a towel and
said, “If

the Bear Tsar starts to get too close to us, first throw down the comb,
and

the next time wave the towel.”

The little shitty bullock ran on and on. Prince Ivan looked back, and
the

Bear Tsar was chasing after them: he was just about to grab them!
Prince

Ivan took the comb and threw it down behind them. Suddenly it grew
up

into such a great, thick forest that even a bird couldn’t fly through it, a
beast
couldn’t pick its way through, a man couldn’t walk through on foot,
and a

horseman couldn’t ride through it. The bear chewed and chewed, he
barely

managed to chew a narrow path through it for himself. He made his

way

through the deep forest and raced after in pursuit. But the tsar’s
children

were far, far away! The bear started to catch up to them. Prince Ivan
looked

back and waved the towel behind them. Suddenly there was a fiery
lake, so

very wide! The waves ran from one end of it to the other.

The Bear Tsar stood and stood for a while on the bank and then went

back home. But the shitty little bullock, Prince Ivan, and Princess
Mar’ia ran

all the way to a clearing. 48

In the same clearing stood a large, wonderful house. “There’s a

house for

you!” said the little bullock. “Live there and don’t be sad. Make a
bonfire in

the yard right now, slaughter me, and burn me in that bonfire.”

82
The Bear Tsar

“Oh no,” said the tsar’s children, “why should we slaughter you?
Better

live with us. We’ll take care of you, we’ll feed you with fresh grass and
give

you spring water to drink.”

“No, burn me, and sow my ashes in three vegetable rows. A horse
will

jump up from one row, a dog from the second, and an apple tree will
grow

up on the third. You’ll go riding on the horse, Prince Ivan, and you’ll
go

hunting with that dog.” 49 So they did everything as he had told them.

One day Prince Ivan decided to go out hunting. He said good-bye to

his sister, mounted the horse, and rode off into the forest. He killed a
goose,

killed a duck, and caught a live wolf cub and brought it home. The
prince

saw that he was good at hunting, and he rode out again, shot all
kinds of

birds, and caught a live bear cub. The third time Prince Ivan went out
hunt-

ing, he forgot to bring his dog along.

At the same time Princess Mar’ia had gone out to do the washing.
She
walked along, but on the other side of the fiery lake a six-headed
dragon

flew down to the bank, took on the form of a handsome man, caught
sight

of the princess, and spoke so sweetly, “Hello, fair maiden!”

“Hello, good young man!”

“I’ve heard from old people that in earlier times this lake did not ex-

ist. If they built a high bridge above it, I would cross over to that side
and

marry you.”

“Wait! There’ll be a bridge there in a moment,” Princess Mar’ia an-

swered him, and she threw up the towel. That very moment the towel
bent

into an arch and stopped over the lake as a beautiful bridge. The
dragon

crossed over the bridge, turned back into its original form, locked up
Prince

Ivan’s dog, and threw the key into the lake. Then he grabbed the
princess

and carried her away.

Prince Ivan came home from hunting and found his sister missing
and

the dog howling, locked up. He saw the bridge over the lake and said,
“A
dragon must have carried off my sister!” He set off to search for her.
He

walked and walked, and in the open field he saw a hut standing on
chicken

legs, on dogs’ heels. “Little hut, little hut! Turn your back to the forest,
and

your front to me!” The hut turned, and Prince Ivan went in. In the hut
lay

Baba Yaga, bony leg, from corner to corner, nose grown into the
ceiling. “Fie,

fie!” she said. “Until now I couldn’t smell the Russian spirit, but now
the

Russian spirit appears before my eyes, throws itself into my nose!

Why have

you come, Prince Ivan?”

83
The Bear Tsar

The Dancing Hut of Baba

Yaga by Lisa Smedman.

Fantasy Roleplaying. TSR

Inc. 1995. http://tinyurl.com/

azp6eaq.

“If only you could ease my grief!”

“And what is your grief?” The prince told her. “Well, go home. You
have

an apple tree in your yard. Break three green twigs off it, braid them
to-

gether, and there where the dog is locked up, hit the lock with them.
The

lock will immediately fly apart into little pieces. Then bravely go find
the

dragon; he won’t be able to stand against you.”

Prince Ivan went home and freed the dog—she ran out angry as
could

be! He took the wolf cub and the bear cub along with him, too, and
set out

to fight the dragon. The beasts threw themselves on it and tore it to

shreds.

But Prince Ivan took Princess Mar’ia, and they began to live and live
well,

to earn riches.

(Afanas’ev, no. 201)

84
The Bogatyrs Soska, Usynia,

Gorynia, and Duginia

Once there lived an old woman who had no children.

One day she went out to collect wood chips, and she

found a block of pine. She took it back home, went

in, heated up her house, put the block on the stove,

and said to herself, “Let it dry out, and it will make

good splinters for light.”

But the old woman’s house had no windows.

Soon the chips started to burn, and the whole house

filled with smoke. Suddenly the old woman heard what seemed like
the pine

block on the stove shouting, “Mother, it’s smoky! Mother, it’s smoky!”
She said a prayer, went over to the stove and picked up the block,
took a

look, and—what marvel was this? The block of wood had turned into
a little

boy. The old woman rejoiced, “God has given me a little son!” And
that boy

began to grow not by the year, but by the hour, rising like yeasted
dough.

He grew up and started to go to the boyars’ yards and play bogatyr

tricks. If

someone grabbed his arm, he’d pull their arm off. If someone
grabbed his

leg, he’d pull their leg off. If someone grabbed his head, he’d pull their
head

off! The boyars started to complain to the old woman. She called her
son

and told him, “What’s the idea? Live a bit more quietly, sir.”

But he answered her, “If I’m making things awkward for you, I’ll just
go

away!”

He left the city and set out along the road. Toward him came the bo-

gatyr Duginya; take any tree, he could bend it into a bow!50 Duginya
asked,

“Where are you going, bogatyr Soska?” 51

“I’m following my nose!”

“Take me along with you.”

“Let’s go.”

They set out together, and they ran into bogatyr Gorynya. 52 “Where
are you going?”

“We’re following our noses!”

85

The Bogatyrs Soska, Usynia, Gorynia, and Duginia

“Take me along with you.”

“All right, come along.”

Another few vyorsts went by. They ran into the bogatyr Usynya
beside

a big river.53 He was sitting on the bank, with half his mustache
stretched

across the river, and people were walking across on his mustache.
Horses

were riding, wagons were driving, just as if it were a bridge.

Usynya asked, “Where are you going, bogatyr Soska?”

“I’m following my nose!”

“Take me with you, too.”

“All right, be our comrade.”

So they walked along as a foursome, for a long time, for a short time,
and they came up to the blue sea. They wanted to get to the other
side, but

how could they? They didn’t know. But bogatyr Usynya stretched out
his

mustache, and they all made it across to the other side on the
mustache.

They walked and walked and wound up in a deep, dark forest. “Stop,

boys!” said bogatyr Soska. “Why should we go wandering through the

whole

world? Wouldn’t it be better to stay and live here?”

They got to work, cut down logs for a house, and started to go out
hunt-

ing. Every time, one of them would take turns staying home to make
the

dinner and to look after the housekeeping. The first day it was
Duginya’s

turn. He got food and drink ready and lay down on the bench to rest a
bit.

Knock-knock! In came a Baba Yaga. “Give me some dinner,” she

said.

“I want something to eat and drink.” Duginya put bread and salt and
some

roast duck on the table. She gobbled it all down and asked for more.

“There’s nothing else,” answered Duginya. “We’re visitors here

ourselves.”
The Baba Yaga grabbed him by the hair and started to drag him
across

the floor. She dragged him and dragged him and left him barely alive.

His comrades came back from hunting. “Why are you lying there,
Duginya?”

“I got faint breathing the fumes from the smoke, brothers! It’s a new

house, the wood is raw . . .”

The next day the same thing happened with Gorynya, and on the
third

day with Usynya.

It got to be bogatyr Soska’s turn. Baba Yaga came to see him and de-

manded, “Give me something to eat and drink!” He put some bread

and salt

on the table and some roast goose. Baba Yaga ate it all and asked
for more.

“There’s nothing else, we’re visitors here ourselves.”

She threw herself at the bogatyr, but bogatyr Soska was strong
himself.

He grabbed her by her gray braids, dragged her around, and threw
her out

86

The Bogatyrs Soska, Usynia, Gorynia, and Duginia

of the house barely alive. Baba Yaga crawled off on all fours and went
under

a big stone.

When the comrades came back from hunting, bogatyr Soska took
them

to that stone and said, “We have to lift it, lads.” They tried and tried.
The

others couldn’t move it, but when bogatyr Soska hit it with his fist the
stone

flew off and landed a vyorst away. They took a look, and where the
stone had

been lying it turned out there was a deep hole. “Well, lads, we need
to kill

some beasts and twist ropes!” They killed some beasts, cut up their
skins,

tied together a long strap, and fastened a net to it. In that net they
lowered

bogatyr Soska into the underground kingdom.

He started walking through the underground kingdom. He came to a

little house and went into it. Baba Yaga’s daughter sat in the house,
embroi-

dering a carpet. She saw her guest and cried out, “Ah, bogatyr
Soska! My

mother’s about to come home. Where can I hide you from her?” She
up and
turned him into a pin and stuck him into her embroidery.

Baba Yaga came in and asked, “Who do you have in the house?”

“No one, Mother!”

“Why does it smell of Russian spirit?”

She rushed around looking, searched and searched, but didn’t find
any-

one. The moment Baba Yaga left, the fair maiden threw the pin on the
floor,

and out of the pin appeared bogatyr Soska. She took him into a shed.
Two

jugs were standing in that shed. The blue one was full of
strengthening wa-

ter, and the white one was full of weakening water. “When you fight
with

mama, jump out the door as fast as you can and into the shed, drink
all the

water from the blue jug, and fill it up with water from the white one.”

No sooner had she managed to tell him this than Baba Yaga came
run-

ning up. She wanted to get her claws into the bogatyr. “Wait, Mother!”
her

daughter said to her. “First you have to agree. If he knocks you down,
let him

give you a chance to catch your breath, and if you knock him down,
then he
may ask for a rest.”

Soska bogatyr and Baba Yaga agreed on that and jumped at each
other.

Baba Yaga threw him against the floor. The fair maiden shouted at
once,

“Mother! Give him a chance to catch his breath.” Bogatyr Soska ran
into the

shed, drank all the water from the blue jug, and poured the water
from the

white one into it. Then he grabbed Baba Yaga and threw her onto the
floor.

“Let me catch my breath!” shouted the old woman. She jumped up,
ran

into the shed, and drank her fill of weakening water. They started to
fight

again. Bogatyr Soska hit her so hard that he killed her. He put her
dead

87

The Bogatyrs Soska, Usynia, Gorynia, and Duginia

into the fire, burned her, and let the ashes scatter in the wind. Then
he took

the fair maiden, put her into the net, and tugged on the belt. The
bogatyrs
Duginia, Gorynia, and Usynia hauled her right out. They lowered the
cable

again, lifted bogatyr Soska halfway, and then tore the belt. 54

(Afanas’ev, no. 142)

88

The Brother

Once there lived a lady. She had three daughters

and a little son. She took very great care of her son

and wouldn’t let him out of the house. One splen-

did summer day the daughters came to their mother

and asked her to let them take their brother to walk

in the garden. For a long time the mother wouldn’t

agree, then finally she let him go. They walked for
a long time in the garden. Suddenly a strong wind

came up. The sand and dust rose up in a cloud, and the child was
torn out

of the nanny’s arms and carried off to who knows where. They looked
and

looked for him in the garden, but they couldn’t find him. They cried a
bit,

then went and told their mother that their little brother had
disappeared.

The mother sent the oldest daughter to look for him. She went out
into

a meadow, where three paths lay in front of her. She set off along the
one

that went straight ahead. She walked and walked, until she came to a
birch

tree. “Birch tree, birch tree! Tell me, where’s my little brother?”

“Pick leaves from me, take half of them for yourself, and leave half for

me. I’ll come in handy to you in time!”

The girl didn’t listen. She said, “I don’t have time!” and she went on
far-

ther. She came to an apple tree. “Apple tree, apple tree! Did you
happen to

see my little brother?”

“Pick all the apples off me; take half for yourself, and leave half for
me.
I’ll come in handy to you in time.”

She said, “No, I don’t have time! How can I pick fruit? I’m going to

look for my very own blood brother!” She walked and walked. She
came to

a stove. And the stove had been lit, it was very hot. “Stove, stove! Did
you

happen to see my own little brother?”

“Fair maiden! Sweep out the stove, bake a wafer, take half for
yourself,

and leave half for me. I’ll come in handy to you in time.”

“How can I sweep and bake? I’m on my way to take care of my

brother!”

89

The Brother

She went on farther. A house was standing on chicken legs, on

spindle

heels; it stood there and spun around. She said, “Little house, little
house!

Stand with your back to the woods, your front to me!” The house
turned

around, and she went up into it. She said a prayer to God and bowed
in all

four directions.
A Baba Yaga was lying on the bench, with her head in the wall, her
legs

sticking up into the ceiling, and hungry as anything. Baba Yaga said,
“Fie, fie,

fie! Until now there was no smell or sight of a Russian soul. You,
maiden!

Are you doing a deed or fleeing a deed?”

She said, “Granny! I’ve walked over mosses and over swamps. I got
all

soaked through, and I’ve come to you to warm up.”

“Sit down, fair maiden! Look for things on my head!”

She sat down to look and saw her brother sitting on a chair, while the

tomcat Yeremei told him stories and sang songs. The old woman, the
Baba

Yaga, fell asleep. The girl took her brother and ran off to take him
home.

She came to the stove. “Stove, stove! Hide me!”

“No, fair maiden, I won’t hide you.”

She came to the apple tree. “Apple tree, apple tree! Hide me!”

“No, fair maiden, I won’t hide you.”

She came to the birch tree. “Birch tree, birch tree! Hide me!”

“No, fair maiden, I won’t hide you!” She walked on farther.

But then the cat started to purr, and Baba Yaga woke up and saw the
boy was missing. She shouted, “Gray eagle! Fly off at once. The
sister’s been

here, and she’s taken the boy!” (This eagle was the one who had
carried the

boy away from his mother.)

The gray eagle flew off. “Stove, stove! Did you happen to see, did a
girl

pass by here with a little boy?”

“Yes, she did.”

The eagle flew farther. “Apple tree, apple tree! Did you happen to
see,

did a girl pass by here with a little boy?”

“She just went by!”

The eagle flew on to the birch tree. It caught right up to the girl, took
away

her brother, and scratched her all up, scratched her all over with its
claws.

She came home to her mother. “No, Mother, I didn’t find my own dear

brother!”

Then the middle sister asked, “Will you let me go search for our
broth-

er?” They let her go. She set off and everything happened just the
same way.

She came home all tattered, scratched all over.

90

The Brother

The youngest sister started asking to go. They told her, “Your two
sisters

went out and didn’t find him, and you won’t find him either!”

“God knows, maybe I will find him!” She set off. She came to the birch

tree. “Birch tree, birch tree! Tell me where my little brother is!”

“Pick leaves off me. Take half for yourself and leave half for me. I’ll
come

in handy to you some time!”

She picked the little leaves, and she took half for herself and left half

for the tree. She went on farther, and she came to the apple tree.
“Apple tree,

apple tree! Did you happen to see my own little brother?”

“Fair maiden, pick apples from me. Take half for yourself, leave half
for

me. I’ll come in handy to you some time!” She picked the apples. She
took

half for herself and left half for the tree, and she went on farther. She
came

to the stove. “Stove, stove! Did you happen to see my own little
brother?”
“Fair maiden! Sweep me out and bake a wafer. Take half for yourself,

leave half for me!” So she swept out the stove, baked a wafer, took
half for

herself, and left half for the stove.

She went along farther. She came close and saw a little house
standing on

chicken legs, on spindle heels, spinning around. She said, “Little

house, little

house! Stand with your back to the forest, with your front to me!” The
house

turned. She went inside and said a prayer to God. (And she had
brought

along from home a piece of butter, some pretzels, some of

everything.)

The Baba-Yaga said, “Until now there was no smell or sight of a

Russian

soul, but now a Russian soul appears before my eyes! Why are you
here, fair

maiden, are you doing a deed or fleeing a deed?”

“No, granny! I was walking through the forest, through the swamps,
and I

got soaked through, chilled through. I’ve dropped by your place to

warm up!”

She said, “Sit down, fair maiden! Look for things on my head!”
She began to look and kept saying, “Fall asleep one eye, fall asleep
other

eye. If you don’t fall asleep I’ll pour pitch over you, I’ll stop you up with

cotton balls!” Baba Yaga fell asleep. The girl took some cotton and
dipped

it in pitch, smeared Baba Yaga’s eyes with pitch. Right away she
gave the

cat Yeremei a piece of butter, and a doughnut, and some pretzels,

and some

apples, some of everything. And she took her brother. The cat ate his
fill, lay

down, and took a nap.

She left with her brother. She came to the stove and said, “Stove,
stove!

Hide me!”

“Sit down, fair maiden!” Right away the stove spread out, it got much

wider. She sat down in it. And the Baba Yaga woke up, but she
couldn’t pull

91

The Brother

her eyes open, so she crawled to the door and shouted, “Tomcat
Yeremei!

Claw my eyes open!”

But he answered her, “Purr, purr! I’ve lived with you so long, and I
never

saw so much as a burned crust. But the fair maiden came for only an
hour,

and she gave me a lump of butter!”

Then Baba Yaga crawled to the threshold. She shouted, “Gray eagle!
Fly

at once, the sister’s been here, she’s taken her brother away!”

He flew off. He flew up to the stove. “Stove, stove! Did you happen to

see, did a girl happen to pass here with a little boy?”

“No, I haven’t seen anything.”

“And why, stove, have you gotten so wide?”

It said, “It’s just for a time. I was stoked not long ago!”

Then the eagle went back again, scratched and scratched at the
Baba

Yaga’s eyes, scratched her all over. The sister and brother came to
the apple

tree. “Apple tree, apple tree! Hide me!”

“Sit down, fair maiden!”

The apple tree made itself fluffy, curly.

She sat right down in a crevice in the trunk. Then the gray eagle
came

flying again and flew to the apple tree. “Apple tree, apple tree! Did
you hap-
pen to see, did a girl happen to pass here with a little boy?”

It answered, “No.”

“Why have you, apple tree, gotten so curly, lowered your branches
right

down to the ground?”

“The time has come,” it said. “I’m standing here all curly.”

The eagle went back to Baba Yaga. It clawed and clawed, but it
couldn’t

scratch her eyes open.

And the girl came to the birch tree. “Birch tree, birch tree! Hide me!”

“Sit down, my dear!” it said. It made itself fluffy, curly, like the apple
tree.

The gray eagle came flying again. “Birch tree, birch tree! Did you
happen

to see, did a girl happen to pass by here with a little boy?”

“No, she didn’t.”

The eagle went back again. The girl came home, and she brought the

little boy with her. Everyone rejoiced.

I was there, and I drank mead and beer. It dripped down my

mustache,

but none got into my mouth.

(Khudiakov, no. 53)

92
The Daughter-in-Law

Once there lived an old man and an old woman.

They had a son, and they married the son to a

young woman.

The mother-in-law sent her daughter-in-law to

shear the sheep. But she didn’t have sheep, she had

bears. So the daughter-in-law sat down on an oak

and called, “My teddies, my gray ones, come shear

yourselves!” They came and they sheared them-

selves. Then she went back, and she took the wool to her mother-in-
law.

Then the mother-in-law sent her to milk the cows. But she didn’t have
cows, she had wolves. She sat down on an oak and called, “Bossies
and

brownies! Come milk yourselves!” They came and they milked

themselves.

Then she took the milk to her mother-in-law.

Then the mother-in-law sent her to see her sister, who was a witch, to

ask for some loom reeds. She came to that witch’s house. “Auntie!”
she said,

“Give my mother some reeds!”

“Niece! Sit down, do some weaving for me.”

Then the witch went into the cellar to sharpen her teeth. She
sharpened

and sharpened for a while and said, “Niece! Are you here?”

“I’m here, auntie!” Then she (the niece) spat in all four directions.

The witch asked, “Niece! Are you here?”

“Here, auntie.” Then the niece left for home. She gave the cat a lump
of

butter, she put a stag-beetle55 in the house with a prayer. She

sprinkled the

door with water and closed it with a prayer. And she gave a piece of
beef to

the dog, and she left.

Baba Yaga came. She saw that the girl was gone. “Cat, why did you
let
her go?”

He said, “She gave me a lump of butter. I’ve lived with you so long,
and

I’ve never seen even a burnt crust.”

Then she said, “Stag-beetle, why did you let her go?”

93

The Daughter-in-Law

It said, “I’ve lived an age with you, and I never saw a burnt crust. But
she

put me here with a prayer!”

“Door, why did you let her go? You could have slammed on her!”

It said, “I’ve lived with you for an age, I never saw a burned crust; but

she closed me with a prayer!”

“You, dog, why didn’t you bite her?”

It said, “I’ve lived for an age with you, I’ve never seen a burnt crust;
but

she gave me a piece of meat!”

So the daughter-in-law got away.

(Khudiakov, no. 59)

94
The Enchanted Princess

Once in a certain kingdom there was a soldier who

served in the king’s horse guard. He served out his

twenty-five years in faith and truth. For his honest

conduct, the king ordered him discharged and grant-

ed him full retirement. As a reward, he gave the sol-

dier the same horse he used to ride in his regiment

with the saddle and all the gear. The soldier said fare-

well to his comrades and rode off to his homeland.

He rode for a day, a second, and a third. Soon a whole week had
passed,

and a second week, and a third. The soldier didn’t have enough
money. He
had no way to feed himself or his horse, and his home was still far, far
away!

Things looked very bad for him. He wanted very much to get
something

to eat. He started to look around, and he saw a great castle off to one
side.

“Well, now,” he thought. “Shouldn’t I head that way? Perhaps at least

they’ll

take me into service for a short time, and I can earn a little
something.”

He turned toward the castle, rode into the courtyard, put his horse in

the stable, and gave her some feed. He himself went into the
chambers. In

the chambers stood a laden table, and on the table both food and
wine, ev-

erything your soul could desire! The soldier ate and drank his fill.
“Now I

can have a bit of a nap, too!” he thought.

Suddenly a she-bear came in. “Don’t be afraid of me, fine young man.

It’s good that you’ve come here. I’m not a wild bear, but a fair maiden
—an

enchanted princess. If you can stand to stay here for three nights,
then the

enchantment will be broken. I’ll turn into a princess as I was before,

and I’ll
marry you. ”56

The soldier agreed. The she-bear went out, and he was left there
alone.

Here such a longing fell upon him that he would rather have died, and
the

longer it lasted the stronger it got. If it weren’t for the wine, it seemed,
he

wouldn’t have been able to hold out for a single night! On the third
day

it got to the point where the soldier decided to give it all up and run
out

of the castle, but no matter how he struggled, no matter how he tried,

he

95

The Enchanted Princess

couldn’t find any way out. There was nothing he could do: he had to
stay

there against his will. He spent the third night, too. In the morning a
queen

of indescribable beauty appeared, thanked him for his service, and

told him

to get dressed for the wedding. Then they held the wedding and
began to

live together, and they had nothing to complain of.

After a certain time the soldier started to think about his native land,

and he felt the desire to spend a bit of time there.

The queen tried to talk him out of it. “Stay here, my friend, don’t go

away. What do you lack here?”

No, she couldn’t talk him out of it. She said good-bye to her husband

and gave him a little sack; it was full of seed. She said, “Whatever
road you

ride on, toss this seed to either side. Wherever it falls, trees will grow
up that

very minute. Rare fruits will begin to glow on the tree branches, all
kinds

of birds will sing songs, and cats from overseas will tell fairy tales.”
The fine

young man mounted the horse he had served on and set off on his
way.

Wherever he rode, he threw seeds to both sides, and forests rose up

in his

tracks as if they were crawling up out of the damp earth!

He rode for one day, a second, a third, and he saw a caravan

standing on

the grass in an empty field. There were merchants sitting on the

ground and

playing cards, while a cauldron hung beside them. Even though there
was no
fire under the kettle, the broth was boiling hard. “What a marvel!”
thought

the soldier. “There’s no fire, but broth’s boiling up in the kettle like a
spring.

Let me take a closer look.” He turned his horse to the side, rode over
to the

merchants, and said, “Hello, honest gentlemen!”

But he didn’t realize that they weren’t merchants, they were unclean

spirits. “That’s a good trick, a kettle that boils without fire! But I have a
bet-

ter one.” He pulled one grain of the seed out of his little bag and
threw it to

the ground—and that instant a thousand-year tree grew up, precious

fruits

glowed on the tree, all kinds of birds sang songs, and cats from
overseas

told tales.

The unclean ones recognized him by his boasting. “Ah,” they said
among

themselves. “Why, this must be that same one who rescued the
queen. Let’s

put him to sleep with a potion, brothers, and let him sleep for half a
year.”

They started offering him food and drink, and they plied him with
magi-
cal herbs. The soldier fell down on the grass and fell into a sound,
unwak-

ing sleep, but the merchants, the caravan, and the kettle disappeared
in an

instant.

Not long after that the queen went out to take a walk in her garden.
She

looked and saw that all the tops of the trees had begun to wither.
“That’s a

96

The Enchanted Princess

Illustration by Viktor Zami-

railo (1898–1939).

bad sign!” she thought. “I can tell something bad has happened to my
hus-

band. Three months have passed, it’s time for him to be coming back,
but

there’s no sign of him!” The queen prepared her things and set off to
find

him. She rode along the same road where the soldier had made his
way, with

trees growing on both sides, and birds singing, and the cats from
overseas

meowing. She came to a place where the trees stopped and the road
wound

off through the open field. She thought, “Where could he have gotten
to?

The earth can’t have swallowed him up!” She looked to one side and
saw the

same kind of wondrous tree, with her dear friend lying under it.

She ran up to him and began to shake and poke him, but no, he
wouldn’t

wake up. She started to pinch him, to prick his side with pins, she
pricked

and pricked him, but he didn’t feel the pain either, he lay there as if he
were
dead and didn’t stir.

The queen got angry, and in her anger she spoke a curse. “You
worthless

sleepy-head, may the wild whirlwind pick you up and carry you off to
un-

known lands!” No sooner had she said it than suddenly the winds
began to

rustle and whistle, and in one moment they had picked up the soldier
with

a wild whirlwind and carried him out of her sight. The queen realized
too

late that she had said a bad thing. She went back home and started
to live

all on her own.

But the whirlwind carried the poor soldier far, far away, over thrice-
nine

lands, and it threw him onto a neck of land between two seas. He fell
on the

narrowest spit of land. If he had rolled to the left or if he had turned

over to

the right in his sleep, he would have fallen right into the sea, and that
would

97

The Enchanted Princess

have been the end of him! The fine young man slept for half a year
without

moving even a finger. But when he awoke he jumped right to his feet
and

took a look: on either side he saw waves rising, and there was no end
in

sight to the wide sea. He stood there deep in thought and asked
himself,

“What miracle brought me here? Who lugged me all this way?” He

walked

along the spit of land and came out onto an island. There was a
steep, high

mountain on that island. Its summit reached up to the clouds, and on

the

mountain lay a great boulder.

He walked over to that mountain and saw three devils brawling. Blood

was pouring from all of them, and tufts of fur were flying! “Wait, you
evil

ones! What are you fighting about?”

“Well, you see, our father died three days ago, and he left us three
mar-

velous things, a flying carpet, seven-league boots, and an invisible

hat. So we

can’t divide them up.”

“Oh, you cursed ones! You’ve started a battle over such trifles. If you
want, I’ll divide everything for you. You’ll be satisfied—I won’t slight
anyone.”

“Well then, countryman, divide it all, please!”

“All right! Run off right now to the pine forests, gather a hundred

poods57 of pitch, and bring it here.”

The devils raced off to the pine forests, gathered three hundred
poods of

pitch, and brought it to the soldier.

“Now bring the very biggest cauldron in hell.”

The devils dragged up a huge cauldron—forty barrels would have fit

inside it!—and they poured all the pitch into it.

The soldier started a fire, and as soon as the pitch was melted he or-

dered the devils to drag the cauldron up the mountain and pour the
pitch

down it from top to bottom. The devils did this at once. “Well, then,”
said

the soldier. “Now tip over that boulder there. Let it roll down the
mountain,

and you three go running after it. The first of you to catch it will be the
first

to choose one of these three marvelous things. The second one to

catch it

will be the second to have his choice of the two objects left. And then
the
last marvelous thing will go to the third.”

The devils tipped over the boulder, and it went rolling off down the

mountain. All three raced after it. One devil caught up with it and
grabbed

the boulder, but the boulder turned right over, flipped him under it,
and

smashed him down into the pitch. The second devil caught up to it,
and

then the third, and the same thing happened to them! They were
stuck to

the pitch, firmly as could be! The soldier took the seven-league boots
and

98

The Enchanted Princess

the invisible hat under his arm, took a seat on the flying carpet, and
flew off

to look for his own kingdom.

After a long time or for a short time, he flew up to a little house and

went inside. In the house sat a Baba Yaga, bony leg, old and
toothless.

“Hello, granny! Tell me, how can I find my beautiful queen?”

“I don’t know, dear! I haven’t seen any sight of her, nor heard any
news of
her. Off you go and cross over so many seas, over so many lands;
my middle

sister lives there. She knows more than I do, perhaps she’ll be able to
tell you.”

The soldier took a seat on the flying carpet and flew off. He had to
wan-

der for a long time through the white world. If he started to get hungry
and

thirsty, he’d put on the invisible hat right away, fly down into some city,
go

into the shops, take whatever his heart desired, get back on the
carpet, and

fly on farther. He flew up to another little house and went in. A Baba
Yaga

was sitting there, bony leg, old and toothless. “Hello, granny! You
don’t hap-

pen to know where I could find my beautiful queen?”

“No, dear, I don’t know. You must travel over so many seas, over so
many

lands. My older sister lives there, perhaps she knows it.”

“Eh, you old grouch! You’ve lived in the world so many years, all your

teeth have fallen out, but you don’t know anything useful.” He took a
seat on

the flying carpet and flew off to see the oldest sister.

He wandered for a long, long time, saw many lands and many seas,
and finally flew to the end of the world. There was a little house
standing

there, but there was nowhere farther to go—nothing but pitch

darkness,

you couldn’t see a thing! “Well,” he said. “If I can’t get an answer
here, there’s

nowhere else to fly!”

He went into the little house, and there he saw a Baba Yaga, bony
leg,

gray and toothless. “Hello, granny! Tell me, where’s my beautiful

queen!”

“Wait a bit, let me call all the winds together, and I’ll ask them. After
all,

they blow all over the world, so they ought to know where she’s living
now.”

The old woman went out on the porch, shouted in a loud voice, and
whis-

tled a bogatyr whistle. Suddenly the restless winds appeared and

started to

blow from all directions, so that the house started to shake! “Softer,
softer!”

shouted Baba Yaga. And as soon as the winds had gathered she
started ask-

ing them, “My wild winds, you blow over the whole world. Have you
seen

the beautiful queen?”

“No, we haven’t seen her anywhere!” the winds answered in unison.

“And are you all present?”

“All of us, except the south wind.”

99

The Enchanted Princess

The south wind came flying a little bit later. The old woman asked it,

“Where were you all this time? We almost stopped waiting for you!”

“I’m to blame, granny! I dropped by a new kingdom, where a beautiful

queen lives. Her husband disappeared without a trace, so now she’s

being

courted by all kinds of tsars and tsars’ sons, kings and princes.”

“And how far is it to the new kingdom?”

“On foot you’d have to go thirty years, on wings you would have to fly

for ten, but if I blow I can get you there in only three hours.”

The soldier began to plead tearfully for the south wind to take him to

the new kingdom. “Certainly!” said the south wind. “I’ll take you there,
if

you give me leave to stroll as much as I wish in your kingdom for

three days

and three nights.”

“Stroll for three weeks if you want!”

“All right. I’ll just rest for a day or two, to gather my strength, and then

we’ll be on the road.”

The south wind rested, gathered his strength, and said to the soldier,

“Well, brother, get ready, we’re leaving now. And listen, don’t be
afraid. You

won’t get hurt!” Suddenly a fierce whirlwind began to rustle and

whistle;

it lifted the soldier into the air and carried him over mountains and
seas

beneath the very clouds, and after exactly three hours he was in the
new

kingdom, where his beautiful queen lived. The south wind said to him,

“Farewell, fine young man! I’ve taken pity on you, I won’t go strolling
in

your kingdom.”

“Why is that?”

“Because, if I started strolling, not a house would be left in the city,

and

not a tree would be left in the gardens. I’d turn everything upside-
down!”

“Farewell then! Thank you!” said the soldier. He put on his invisible
hat

and went into the white stone chambers.

Now, while he was away from the kingdom all the trees in the garden

had stood with withered leaves, but as soon as he appeared they

came to life

at once and started to flower. He came into the great room, and there
at the

table sat all kinds of tsars and tsars’ sons, kings and princes, who
had come

to pay court to the beautiful queen. They sat there and treated
themselves to

sweet wines. Whenever a suitor poured a glass, the moment he lifted

it to his

lips the soldier would immediately whap! the glass with his fist and
knock

it right away. All the guests were surprised at this, but the beautiful
queen

guessed at once. “It must be that my friend has returned!” she

thought.

She looked out the window. All the treetops had come to life in the

garden, and she began to tell a riddle to her guests. “I had a

handmade cas-

100

The Enchanted Princess

ket with a golden key. I lost the key and had no hope of finding it, but
now
that key has shown up by itself. Whoever can guess that riddle, I will
marry

him.” The tsars and tsars’ sons, the kings and princes cracked their
heads

over this riddle for a long time, but there was no way they could solve
it. The

beautiful queen said, “Show yourself, my friend!”

The soldier took off the invisible hat, took her by the white hands and

began to kiss her sugared lips. “And there’s the solution for you!” said
the

beautiful queen. “The handmade casket—that’s me, and the little

golden

key—that’s my faithful husband.” The suitors had to turn their

carriages

around. They all drove off to their own homes, but the queen began
to live

with her husband and to earn riches.

(Afanas’ev, no. 272)

101
The Feather of Finist the

Bright Falcon

Once there lived an old man who had three daugh-

ters. 58 The eldest one and the middle one were fancy

dressers, but the youngest one cared only about

keeping house.

The father got ready to go to town and he asked

his daughters what he should buy for each of them.

The eldest asked, “Buy me a dress!”

And the middle one said the same thing.

“And what for you, my beloved daughter?” he asked the youngest.

“Buy me a feather of Finist the bright falcon, Father.”

The father said good-bye to them and left for the city. He bought ma-
terial for dresses for the older daughters, but he couldn’t find a
feather of

Finist the bright falcon anywhere.

He returned home and made the eldest and middle daughter glad
with

the new clothes. “But I didn’t find a feather of Finist the bright falcon
for

you,” he said to the youngest.

“So be it,” she said. “Perhaps another time you’ll have the good
fortune

to find it.”

The older sisters cut and sewed new dresses for themselves. They

laughed at her, but she knew how to keep her peace.

Once again as the father was getting ready to go to the city he asked,

“Well, daughters, what should I buy you?”

The eldest and the middle one asked for kerchiefs, but the younger
one

said, “Buy me a feather of Finist the bright falcon, Father.”

The father went to the city and bought two kerchiefs, but he didn’t see

any feathers. He returned home and said, “Ah, daughter! You know, I
didn’t

find a feather of Finist the bright falcon this time either!”

“It’s nothing, Father. Perhaps next time you’ll have better luck.”
The father was getting ready to go to the city a third time and he
asked,

“Tell me, daughters, what should I buy you?”

The older ones said, “Buy us earrings.”

102

The Feather of Finist the Bright Falcon

But the youngest kept on with her “Buy me a feather of Finist the
bright

falcon.”

The father bought the golden earrings and hurried off to search for
the

feather, but no one had even heard of it. He was sad and left the city.
No

sooner had he gone through the gates, when an old man came
toward him

carrying a little box. “What do you have there, old man?”

“A feather of Finist, the bright falcon.”

“What are you asking for it?”

“Give me a thousand.”

The father paid the money and galloped home with the little box. His

daughters met him. “Well, my dear daughter,” he said to the

youngest, “at last
I’ve bought you a present. Here, take it!”

The youngest daughter almost jumped for joy, took the little box,
began

to kiss and caress it, and pressed it tightly to her heart.

After dinner they all parted to go sleep in their own rooms. She too

went into her bedroom. She opened the little box, and the feather of
Finist

the bright falcon flew out at once, struck against the floor, and a
handsome

prince appeared before her. They exchanged words that were sweet
and

good.

The sisters heard and asked, “Who’s that you’re talking with, sister?”

“Just with myself,” answered the fair maiden.

“Well then, open up!”

The prince struck the floor and turned into a feather. She picked it up,

put the feather in the little box, and opened the door. Her sisters
looked this

way and peered that way—no one was there!

No sooner had they left than the fair maiden opened the window, took

out the feather, and said, “Fly away, my feather, into the open field;
stroll

around there until the time comes!” The feather turned into a bright
falcon
and flew away into the open field.

The next night, too, Finist the bright falcon came flying to his maiden.

They began to have merry conversations.

The sisters overheard and ran to their father. “Father! Someone is

visit-

ing our sister at night. Even now he’s sitting and talking with her.”

The father got up and went to see his youngest daughter, but when
he

went into her chamber the prince had long ago turned into a feather
and

was lying in the little box. “You naughty girls!” the father laid into the
older

daughters. “Why are you telling false tales about her? Better keep an
eye on

yourselves!”

The next day the sisters turned to cunning. In the evening, when it
was

103

The Feather of Finist the Bright Falcon

completely dark in the yard, they put up a ladder, gathered many

sharp knives

and needles, and fastened them outside the window of the fair
maiden.
At night Finist the bright falcon came flying, and he struggled and

struggled. He couldn’t get into the room; he only cut his wings all
over.

“Farewell, fair maiden!” he said. “If you wish to search for me, then
seek me

over thrice-nine lands, in the thrice-tenth kingdom. You’ll wear out

three

pairs of iron shoes, break three iron staffs, and gnaw through three
stone

loaves before you find me, the fine young man!” But the maiden kept
on

sleeping. Even though she heard these unwelcoming words through

her

dream, she couldn’t wake or get up.

In the morning she woke up and looked. Knives and needles were
fas-

tened to her window, and blood kept dripping from them. She threw
up her

hands. “Oh, my God! That means my sisters have wounded my dear

friend!”

That very hour she got ready and left the house. She ran to the
smithy

and had them forge her three pairs of iron shoes and three iron staffs.
She

packed away three stone loaves and set off on her way to find Finist
the
bright falcon.

She walked and walked, wore out one pair of shoes, broke an iron
staff,

and gnawed through a stone loaf. She came to a little house and
knocked.

“Master and mistress of the house! Shelter me from the dark night.”

An old woman answered, “Welcome, fair maiden! Where are you

going,

my dove?”

“Ah, granny! I’m looking for Finist the bright falcon.” 59

“Well, fair maiden, you’ll have a long way to search.”

In the morning the old woman said, “Now go see my middle sister,
she’ll

give you good advice. And here’s my gift to you: a silver distaff and a
golden

spindle. If you start to spin fleece, it stretches out into a golden

thread.”

Then she took a ball of thread, rolled it along the path and told the
maiden

to follow after it. Wherever the ball rolled, she should follow that road!

The maiden thanked the old woman and set off after the ball of
thread.

For a long time or a short time, the second pair of iron shoes was
worn
out, the second staff broken, and one more stone loaf gnawed away.
Finally

the ball of thread rolled up to a little house. She knocked. “Good

hosts!

Keep a fair maiden from the dark night!”

“Welcome!” answered an old woman. “Where are you going, fair

maiden?”

“I’m looking for Finist the bright falcon, granny.”

“You’ll have to search a long way!”

104

The Feather of Finist the Bright Falcon

In the morning the old woman gave her a silver saucer and a golden
egg

and sent her along to her eldest sister. She would know where to find
Finist

the bright falcon!

The fair maiden said good-bye to the old woman and set off on her

way. She walked and walked. The third pair of iron shoes was worn
out,

the third staff broken, and the last stone loaf gnawed away when the
ball of

thread rolled up to a little house. She knocked. “Good owners! Protect

a fair
maiden from the dark night!”

Again an old woman came out. “Come in, my dear! Welcome! Where
do

you come from and where are you going?”

“I’m looking for Finist the bright falcon, granny.”

“Oh, it’s very, very hard to find him! Now he lives in such and such a
city,

he’s married to the wafer-baker’s daughter there.”

In the morning the old woman said to the fair maiden, “Here’s a
present

for you: a golden embroidery frame and a needle. You just hold the
frame,

and the needle will embroider by itself. Well, go with God. Ask the
wafer-

baker to hire you as a servant.”

No sooner said than done. The fair maiden came to the wafer-baker’s

yard and got herself hired as a worker. Her hands did the work
quickly: she

stoked the stove, brought the water, and prepared dinner.

The wafer-baker watched and rejoiced. “Thank God!” she said to her

daughter. “We have a worker who’s both obliging and good. She does
every-

thing with no reward!”

But when the fair maiden had finished her domestic tasks around the
house, she took the silver distaff and the golden spindle and sat down
to

spin. She spun, and a thread stretched from the fleece, not a plain
thread but

pure gold.

The wafer-baker’s daughter saw this. “Ah, fair maiden! Won’t you sell
me

your toy?”

“Perhaps I will!”

“And what’s the price?”

“Let me spend the night with your husband.”

The wafer-baker’s daughter agreed. “It’s no trouble,” she thought. “I

can

get my husband drunk with a sleeping potion, but that spindle will
cover me

and my mother with gold!”

But Finist the bright falcon was not at home. The whole day he
roamed

the skies, and he only returned toward evening. They sat down to
dine; the

105
The Feather of Finist the Bright Falcon

Baba Yaga and the Black

Sunflower, The Raleigh Little

Theatre 2007–2008 Season.

Ellen Landau, http://tinyurl

.com/2f3anmt. Photo by

Stuart Wagner.

106

The Feather of Finist the Bright Falcon

fair maiden served the food at the table and kept looking at him, but
he, the

handsome young man, did not recognize her.

The wafer-baker’s daughter mixed some sleeping-potion into Finist

the

bright falcon’s drink, put him to bed, and said to the maidservant, “Go
in to

his bedroom and chase the flies away!”

So the fair maiden chased away the flies, but she herself cried
tearfully,

“Wake up, wake up, Finist, bright falcon! It’s me, the fair maiden—I’ve
come
to you. I broke three iron staffs, I wore through three pairs of iron
shoes, I

gnawed away three stone loaves and kept on searching for you, my
dear!”

But Finist slept and didn’t hear anything. So the night passed.

The next day the servant took her silver dish and rolled a golden egg

from it. She rolled many golden eggs!

The wafer-baker’s daughter saw this. “Sell me your toy,” she said.

“All right, buy it.”

“And what’s the price?”

“Let me spend one more night with your husband.”

“Very well, I agree!”

But Finist the bright falcon once again spent the whole day roaming

the skies and flew home only toward evening. They sat down to dine,
the

fair maiden served the food and kept looking at him, but it was as if
he had

never even known her.

Again the wafer-baker’s daughter put him to sleep with a potion,

tucked

him into bed, and sent in the servant to chase the flies away. This
time too,

no matter how she cried, no matter how the fair maiden tried to wake
him,
he slept until morning and didn’t hear a thing.

On the third day the fair maiden was sitting, holding the golden em-

broidery frame in her hands, while the needle embroidered by itself,

and

such marvelous patterns!

The wafer-baker’s daughter could not stop watching. “Sell it to me,

fair

maiden, sell me your toy!” she said.

“All right, buy it!”

“And what’s the price?”

“Let me spend a third night with your husband.”

“All right, I agree!”

In the evening Finist the bright falcon came flying back. His wife plied

him with a sleeping potion, put him to bed, and sent in the servant to
chase

away the flies.

So the fair maiden chased away the flies, but all the while she cried

tearfully. “Wake up, wake up, Finist, bright falcon! I, the fair maiden,
have

107

The Feather of Finist the Bright Falcon

come to you. I broke three iron staffs, I wore out three pairs of iron
shoes, I

gnawed through three stone loaves—as I kept searching for you, my

dear!”

But Finist the bright falcon slept soundly, he didn’t hear anything.

For a long time she cried, for a long time she tried to wake him.
Suddenly

the fair maiden’s tear fell onto his cheek, and at that very moment he
woke up.

“Ah,” he said, “something burned me!”

“Finist, bright falcon!” the maiden answered him. “I have come to you.
I

broke three iron staffs, I wore out three pairs of iron shoes, I gnawed
away

three stone loaves—I kept looking for you! And for three nights I’ve
been

standing here over you, while you go on sleeping—you don’t wake

up, you

don’t answer my tears!”

Only then did Finist recognize her, and he was so glad that words

can’t tell it. They agreed about what to do, and they left the home of
the

wafer-baker.

In the morning when the wafer-baker’s daughter went to get her hus-
band, neither he nor the maidservant was there! She complained to
her

mother. The wafer-baker ordered horses and raced off to chase them.
She

drove and drove, and she drove by the three old women’s houses,
but she

didn’t catch Finist the bright falcon: even his tracks were long faded!

Finist the bright falcon found himself with his intended beside her par-

ents’ house. He struck the damp earth and turned into a feather; the
fair

maiden took him, hid him inside her blouse, and went to her father.
“Ah,

my beloved daughter! I thought that you were no longer among the

living.

Where were you for so long?”

“I went to pray to God.”

This happened just around Holy Week. The father and the older

daughters were getting ready to go to morning mass. “What is it, my

dear

daughter?” he asked the youngest. “Get ready and let’s go. Today is
such a

joyous day.”

“Father! I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Put on our fine clothes,” said the older sisters.

“Ah, my sisters! Your dresses aren’t made to fit me.60 I’d better stay
at home.”

The father and two of his daughters left for morning mass. Then the

fair maiden pulled out her feather. It struck the ground and turned into
a

handsome prince. The prince whistled out the window, and all at once
fine

clothes, and finery, and a golden carriage all appeared. They

dressed, got

into the carriage, and set off. They went into the church and stood
there

in front of everyone. The people marveled: such-and-such a prince

with

his princess has deigned to pay a visit! At the end of the service they
went

108

The Feather of Finist the Bright Falcon

out before everyone else and drove off home. The carriage
disappeared, the

dresses and finery vanished as if they had never been, and the prince
turned

into a feather.

The father returned home with his daughters. “Ah, dear sister! You
didn’t come with us, but in the church there was a handsome prince
with an

unimaginably beautiful princess.”

“It’s all right, sisters! You told me, so it’s just as if I’d been there
myself.”

The next day the same thing happened. On the third day, as the
prince

and princess were getting into the carriage, the father left the church,
and

with his own eyes he saw the carriage drive up to his house and
disappear.

The father came home and began to question his youngest daughter.
She

said, “There’s nothing to be done, I have to confess!”

She took out the feather. The feather struck against the floor and
turned

into the prince. They were married immediately, and it was a rich
wedding!

I was at that wedding. I drank wine, it ran down my mustache, but it

didn’t get into my mouth. They put a cap on my noggin and got their
elbows

going. They put a basket on me and said, “Now, kiddo, don’t you
delay, out

of the yard with you right away!”

(Afanas’ev, no. 234)

109

The Firebird

In a certain kingdom, but not in our country, there lived a tsar.

This tsar had three sons, Prince Pyotr, Prince Dimitrii, and

Prince Ivan. They had an orchard, too. An apple tree grew in

that orchard with golden apples on it. Only the tsar began to

notice that every night one apple would disappear. A certain

amount of time passed, and a lot of the apples were already

missing. So he called his sons together and said, “My dearest

children! If you love me, then stand guard and catch this thief.

If one of you catches this thief, I’ll give that one half the kingdom.”

On the first night the eldest brother went out. He sat until twelve
o’clock, but after twelve he fell asleep. When he woke up in the
morning, he

looked and saw that one more apple was missing. He went to his
father and

told him about everything in detail. On the second night the middle
brother

went out. The very same thing happened with him.

On the third night the youngest brother started to ask to go out, but

his father would not agree to let him go. He said, “You’re very small,”
and

“Something could frighten you.” But the prince begged persuasively

to be let

out. At last his father agreed and let him go, so he went out to the
garden

and sat down under the apple tree.

He had been sitting for only a little while when the whole garden was
lit

up. Prince Ivan saw the Firebird flying. He hid beneath the tree, and
the bird

flew up and sat on a branch. Just as she was about to peck at an

apple, the

youngest brother crept up to her and grabbed her by the tail. She tore
loose

and flew away, but one feather was left in his hand. He wrapped the
feather
right up in a handkerchief and stayed there until morning.

In the morning he went to his father. His father asked, “What then, my

dear son—did you see the thief?”

“I saw it,” said Prince Ivan, and then he unwrapped the handkerchief.

The feather just lit up the whole room. “Ah, my dear son!” said the
tsar.

“What kind of bird was it?”

110

The Firebird

After that the father called the other two sons. “Well, my good chil-

dren,” he said. “We’ve seen the thief but we haven’t caught it. But
now I beg

you: go out on a journey and find me this Firebird. If one of you finds
it, I’ll

give that one the whole kingdom.”

The older two got ready to set out, but the father wouldn’t let the
young-

est go. He started to beg. His father didn’t agree for a long time, then
finally

he agreed, blessed them all, and they all set out on the journey.

They rode for a long or a short time, and they rode up to a pillar.
Three
roads led away from this pillar, and on the pillar was written: “If you
ride to

the right, you’ll be killed; if you ride to the left, you’ll be hungry
yourself;

if you take the middle road, your horse will be hungry.” They thought
over

who should go which way. The youngest brother went to the right,
and the

other two took the other roads.

Finally the youngest brother was riding along for a while, and he saw
a

little house on chicken legs standing by the road; it was turning

around by

itself. Prince Ivan said, “Little house, little house! Turn your face to me
and

your back to the woods!” The little house turned its face toward him.

He stepped up into the house. On the stove lay Baba Yaga, bony leg,
she

had her nose stuck in the ceiling, and she yelled from there, “What is
it here

that smells of Russian spirit?”

And he shouted at her, “Here! I’ll knock you off your seat on the
stove,

you old she-devil!”

She jumped down off the stove and began to beg him, “Young man,
don’t beat me. I’ll come in handy to you.”

He said to her, “Instead of yelling at me, you’d do better to feed me,

give

me something to drink, and put me to bed.”

She began to ask him, “Who are you?”

He said, “I’m Prince Ivan.”

Then she fed him, gave him something to drink, and made up a bed

for him.

In the morning Prince Ivan woke up, washed, dressed, prayed to

God,

and asked her, “Do you happen to know where the Firebird is?”

She answered him, “I don’t know, but you ride on farther. My middle

sister will be there, she’ll tell you. And here, take this ball of thread.
When

you take away the Firebird, they’ll chase after you, so you say, ‘Little
ball,

little ball, turn into a mountain!’ It’ll turn into a mountain, and you’ll ride

on farther.” Then he thanked her and rode on farther to her sister’s

house.

He rode for a while, and on the road stood a little house on chicken
legs,

111
The Firebird

turning around by itself. Prince Ivan said, “Little house, little house!
Turn

your face toward me, and your back to the woods.” The little house
turned

its face toward him.

He went into the house. On the stove lay a Baba Yaga, the middle
sister,

bony leg, her nose stuck into the ceiling, and she shouted from there,
“What

is it here that smells like Russian spirit?”

“Here,” he said, “I’ll knock you off the stove, you old she-devil!”

She jumped down off the stove, fed Prince Ivan, gave him something

to drink, and put him to bed. In the morning he got up and asked the
Baba

Yaga, “Where’s the Firebird?”

She told him, “Ride on farther to my older sister!” Here she gave him

a comb. “When you ride off with the Firebird,” she said, “they’ll chase
after

you, and you say, ‘Little comb, little comb! You turn into an impassible
for-

est!’ It’ll turn into a forest, and you’ll ride away.” So he thanked her
and rode

on to see the oldest sister.

He rode along for a while, and then he saw another little house on

chicken legs. “Little house, little house! Turn toward me with your
front,

but to the woods with your back!”

He went into the house. On the stove lay a Baba Yaga, bony leg, with

her nose poked up into the ceiling, and she yelled from there, “What
is it

here that smells of Russian spirit?”

“Here,” he said, “you old she-devil, I’ll knock you off the stove!”

She jumped down off the stove, fed Prince Ivan, gave him something

to drink, and put him to bed. In the morning Prince Ivan got up,
prayed to

God, and started asking her about the Firebird.

She gave him a brush and said, “When they chase after you, you say:

‘Little brush, little brush, you turn into a fiery river!’ And it will turn into

a fiery river, and you’ll ride farther. And when you come close to such-

and-such a kingdom, there’ll be a fence, and in that fence there’ll be a

gate.

Behind that gate three cages are hanging. There’s a raven in the
golden cage,

a rook in the silver one, and the Firebird in the copper one. But you
keep

this in mind: don’t take the silver cage, and don’t take the golden or
the cop-
per ones either, but open the little door, pull out the Firebird, and tie it
up

inside a handkerchief.”

Prince Ivan thanked her and set off on his way.

He rode up to the kingdom and saw a stone wall. There was no way
to

climb over it and no way to pass through the gates: there were lions
standing

there. He just took a look and said, “Ah, my horse, my true horse!
Jump over

the wall and let me get the Firebird!” He rode back a bit, broke into a
gallop,

112
The Firebird

Russian Magic: Living Folk

Traditions of an Enchanted

Landscape by Cherry

Gilchrist. Publisher: Quest

Books, 2009.

and jumped over the wall. Then he saw that the Firebird was very big,
there

was no way to tie it in a handkerchief. He thought a bit and then took

the

whole copper cage. Suddenly little bells began to jingle, and the lions
started

to roar. Then he was afraid they would catch him; he broke into a
gallop,

jumped over the wall, and galloped on with the Firebird.

He had ridden only a little way when he saw them chasing after him.
He

took out the ball of thread. “Little ball, little ball, turn into a mountain!”
The

ball of thread turned into a mountain, and he went on. The army
galloped

up to the foot of the mountain and saw that the mountain was
impassible,

so they (the army) turned back, took spades, rode up to the

mountain, and

dug it up. They went back to chasing after Prince Ivan.

As soon as Prince Ivan saw they were after him, he took the comb
and

said, “You, little comb, turn into an impassible forest!” It turned into
one.
The army galloped into the forest and saw that it was an impassible
forest.

They turned back, got axes, and chopped a road through for
themselves.

They galloped off again after him.

Prince Ivan saw them chasing him, so he took the brush and said,
“Little

113

The Firebird

brush, you turn into a fiery river!” The army galloped up and saw that
it was

a fiery river. But just past the river Prince Ivan lay down to take a rest.
The

army found that no matter which of them tried to cross over, they
would get

scalded right away. There was nothing they could do, so the army
headed

back. Prince Ivan got his rest and then set off on his way.

He’d been riding for a only a little while when he came up to that very

same pillar. A tent was pitched by the pillar, and in that tent sat two
fine

young men. He walked up to them and saw that it was his brothers.
He was
very glad at this chance, greeted them, and told them about
everything in

detail. Then he lay down to rest with them. But the brothers were
envious

that he, the youngest brother, would bring the Firebird home to their
father.

“Then we, the older ones, will ride home and without bringing
anything.”

They agreed to throw him into a ditch. They threw him all sleepy into
the

ditch: there were all kinds of vermin in that ditch, beasts, and you
couldn’t

even see the light of the sun from down there. But when he had
nothing

to eat and drink, he fed himself on dirt, and he got the idea of digging
and

climbing upward. As soon as he started to climb, he dug with his

hands and

climbed higher and higher. Finally he climbed higher and higher and
saw

from there a ray of sunlight. Then he climbed farther and came out at
the

top. He rested for a while next to the ditch and then he went on.

As soon as he came close to one city, he saw a crowd of people

standing
in the city. He went up to the people and asked, “What does this
mean—

you’re standing by the lake?”

They answered him, “We’re waiting for a six-headed dragon to come

out

of there. We’re supposed to throw him a maiden, but he’s eaten up all
our

maidens one after the other, so now we have to throw in the tsar’s
daughter.”

But he said to them, “Ah, that makes me so sorry! But show me,
where

are the tsar and his daughter?” When the tsar and his daughter came
out, he

went up to them. “I can save your daughter!” he said.

The tsar said, “That’s impossible now, because of that dragon!”

But Prince Ivan said again, “I’ll save your daughter for you, just order

them to bind up three bundles of honeysuckle sticks!”

When they were done binding them, they brought them. Suddenly the

dragon came swimming, it whistled and roared in all kinds of voices.

The

moment it opened its mouth, Prince Ivan cut off two of its heads with
one

bundle, two more with the second bundle, and two more with the
third. He
cut off all six heads.

Then the tsar began right away to rejoice, he hurried to kiss him and

asked him to visit his palace. All the residents were overjoyed that he
had

114

The Firebird

conquered the dragon, and they held a feast right away. And that
princess,

his daughter, was such a raving beauty that there are few like her in
the

world. The tsar suggested that Prince Ivan should marry her. They
had the

wedding. After marrying them, the tsar began to ask Prince Ivan,
“What

kingdom are you from?”

He answered, “From such-and-such a kingdom, the son of such-and-

such a tsar.”

The tsar began to suggest, “Wouldn’t it be good to go see your

father?

And if you’d like to go see your father, I’ll give you two ravens. Take a
seat on

those ravens, and once you’re on them then say, ‘To such-and-such a
king-
dom,’ and they’ll take you straight there.” So the tsar gave them the
ravens.

They climbed on them and flew off.

But the two older brothers took the Firebird and brought it straight to

their father. Their father was happy to see the Firebird. The day after
that

the Firebird turned into a crow. They were so surprised, and their
father was

surprised, too. “What could something like this mean?”

However, their father hung the crow up in his room. It hung there
look-

ing just like a crow. When Prince Ivan began flying closer to his
father’s pal-

ace, then it suddenly turned from a crow back into the Firebird. The
father

was very surprised to see that it had suddenly turned from a crow
back into

the Firebird. Then he saw two ravens flying, and a man and a young
woman

riding on the ravens. The father was very frightened at this. He

thought,

“Can they have come after the Firebird, and did she turn from a crow
into

the Firebird because her own people were coming?”

But suddenly Prince Ivan came in with his spouse, threw himself on
his

father’s neck, and begged forgiveness for marrying without his

permission.

The father didn’t recognize him at all. “Ah, you’re my son! Why were
you

gone for so long? Your brothers came back, they got the Firebird.”

“No,” he said. “It wasn’t my brothers. I was the one who got the
Firebird.

I rode out with them, they threw me into a deep ditch while I was
sleep-

ing, and they took the Firebird away from me.” And then he told his
father

everything in detail.

Then the father made his two older sons herd cattle, and he gave his

whole kingdom to the youngest. Then they had a great feast. I was
there,

I drank wine and beer, it ran down my mustache, but it didn’t go into
my

mouth. 61

(Khudiakov, no. 1)

115
The Frog and the Bogatyr

In a certain kingdom, in a certain state there lived a king who

had three sons. One day he called his sons to him and said,

“Dear children! Now you’re of age, it’s time for you to think

about marriage. Each of you make an arrow, go out into the

secluded meadows, and shoot in different directions. Each one’s

arrow will land by a house, and the one who shot the arrow will

find his bride in that house.”

Each prince made himself a bow, went out into the seclud-

ed meadows, and took his shot. The eldest brother shot to the right,
the

middle one to the left, and the youngest one, who was called Ivan-
Bogatyr,

let his arrow go straight ahead. After that they went in the different
direc-
tions to search for their arrows. The big brother found his arrow at a
court

minister’s house, while the middle one found his at a general’s house.
The

princes married their beautiful daughters.

But for a long time Ivan- Bogatyr couldn’t find his arrow, and he was

exceedingly sorrowful. For two whole days he walked through the

forests

and mountains, but on the third day he went through a swamp and
saw a

big white frog, holding in its mouth the arrow he had shot. Ivan-
Bogatyr

wanted to run off and get away from what he had found, but the frog
cried

out, “Kvaa-kvaa, Ivan- Bogatyr! Come here and take your arrow, or
else you’ll

be trapped in the swamp forever.”

After saying these words, the frog flipped over, and at that very
moment

a decorated gazebo appeared. Ivan- Bogatyr went into the gazebo. “I

know

you’ve had nothing to eat for three days,” said the frog. “Wouldn’t you
like

something to eat?” Then the frog flipped over again, and all at once a
table
appeared with all kinds of dishes and drinks. Ivan- Bogatyr sat down
at the

table, ate and drank his fill.

“Listen,” the frog told him. “I’m the one who found your arrow, so you

have to marry me. And if you don’t marry me you’ll never get out of
this

swamp!” Ivan- Bogatyr grew sorrowful and didn’t know what to do. He

116

The Frog and the Bogatyr

thought a bit and took the frog with him back to his own state. The
broth-

ers and their brides started to laugh at him.

The day came when Ivan- Bogatyr was to get married. He set off in a
car-

riage, but the frog was carried to the palace on a golden saucer.
When night

came and the bride and groom went into their rooms, the frog took off
her

frog skin and became a beautiful woman, but by day she turned into a
frog.

Ivan Bogatyr lived with her in good fortune and happiness.

After a certain time the king ordered his sons to come to him and said
to them, “Dear children! Now all three of you are married. I’d like to
wear

shirts made by each of your wives, my daughters-in-law.” He gave

each of

them a piece of linen and said that the shirts must be ready by the
next day.

The elder brothers took the cloth to their wives, and they started to
call

their nannies, their nurses, and the lovely chambermaids, to help

them sew

a shirt. Their nannies and their nurses came running right away and
got to

work. One would cut, while another would sew.

At the same time they sent a scullery maid to see how the frog would

sew the shirt. The girl came to Ivan- Bogatyr’s rooms as he brought in
the

cloth and put it on the table with a sorrowful look.

“Why are you so sad, Ivan- Bogatyr?” asked the frog.

And he answered her, “How can I help being sad? My father has or-

dered that a shirt be sewn for him from this cloth by tomorrow.”

“Don’t cry, don’t grieve,” said the frog. “Lie down and go to sleep;
morn-

ing’s wiser than the evening. Everything will be done properly!” She
grabbed
the scissors, cut all the cloth up into tiny scraps, then opened the
window,

threw them into the wind and said, “Wild winds! Take away these
scraps

and sew my father-in-law a shirt.” The scullery maid went and told the
prin-

cesses that the frog had cut all the cloth into little pieces and thrown
them

out the window. They laughed at the frog and said, “And what will her
hus-

band bring the king tomorrow!”

The next day Ivan- Bogatyr woke up, and the frog gave him a shirt.
“Here,

my dear Ivan- Bogatyr! Take this shirt to your father.”

Ivan- Bogatyr took the shirt and brought it to his father. The older

brothers brought their shirts, too. The first to present his shirt was the
big

brother. The king took a look and said, “This shirt is sewn the way
people

usually sew.” He looked at the second son’s shirt and said that shirt
was sewn

no better. But when his youngest son handed him the shirt, the king
could

not marvel enough. You couldn’t see a single stitch in the shirt, and
he said,
“Bring me this shirt for the greatest holidays.”

117

The Frog and the Bogatyr

The king called his sons a second time and said to them, “My dear
chil-

dren! I want to know whether your wives know how to sew with gold
and

silver. Take some silk, some gold and silver thread, and let each of
you have

a carpet ready by tomorrow.”

The wives of the elder brothers began to call nannies, nurses, and
lovely

chambermaids to help them embroider the carpets. Right away the

nannies,

nurses, and lovely chambermaids came and began to embroider the

carpets,

one with silver, one with gold, and another with silk. They sent the
scullery

maid again to take a look at what the frog would do.

Ivan- Bogatyr brought the gold, silver, and silk to his rooms and was

most sorrowful. The frog, sitting on a chair, said, “Kvaa-kvaa-kvaa!

Why are

you sorrowing so, Ivan- Bogatyr?”

“How could I help being sorrowful?” he answered. “Father has
ordered

that a carpet be embroidered with this silver, gold, and silk by

tomorrow.”

“Do not weep and do not grieve,” said the frog. “Lie down to sleep.

Morning’s wiser than the evening!” She herself took the scissors, cut
up all

the silk, tore up the silver and gold, threw it all out the window, and
said,

“Wild winds! Bring that carpet my father used to cover the windows.”
The

daughters-in-law, hearing all that from the scullery maid, got the idea
of

doing the same thing themselves. They waited for a long time, but
once they

saw that the winds were not bringing them any carpets, they sent out
to buy

gold, silver, and silk and began embroidering carpets the way they
had been

doing it before.

In the morning, as soon as Ivan- Bogatyr got up, the frog gave him
the

carpet. So all three brothers brought their carpets to their father. He

took

the carpet first from the eldest, looked at it, and said, “This carpet
would do
to cover a horse from the rain.” He took a look at the middle son’s
and said,

“This carpet could be put in the entryway, for people to wipe their feet
on.”

Then he took the carpet from the youngest son, marveled at it, and
said,

“But this carpet may be spread on my table on the most festive days.”
The

king ordered that Ivan- Bogatyr’s carpet be put away and carefully
kept, but

he gave the carpets back to the other sons. “Take them to your
wives,” said

the king, “and tell them to keep them for themselves.”

For a third time the king spoke to his sons. “Now, my dear children, I

want to have a loaf of bread made by your wives’ hands.” When the
prin-

cesses heard this from their husbands, they immediately sent the
scullery

maid to see what the frog would do. Just then, Ivan- Bogatyr came
into his

rooms most sorrowful.

“Kvaa-kvaa-kvaa! Why are you sorrowing?” the frog asked him.

118
The Frog and the Bogatyr

Baba Yaga paper hut.

“How could I not be sorrowful? Father has ordered you to bake a loaf

of bread.”

“Don’t weep, don’t grieve, everything is done!” and she ordered yeast,
flour, and water brought. She poured the flour into the yeast, poured
in the

water, opened the oven door, poured it into the cold stove, closed the
oven

door, and said, “Bake, bread, clean, delicate, and white as snow!”

The scullery maid went back to the daughters-in-law and said, “I don’t

know why the king keeps praising the frog. It doesn’t know how to do

anything!”

Once they heard all this, the daughters-in-law thought they would do

the same thing as the frog. They dissolved the flour in cold water and
poured

it into cold stoves. But, seeing that their mixtures had poured flat, they
or-

dered still more flour, mixed their dough with warm water, and put it
into

heated stoves. They were afraid they wouldn’t finish in time and they
hur-

ried, so one’s bread burned, while the other’s came out half-baked.
The frog

pulled her bread out of the stove, and it was clean and delicate, white
as snow.

The brothers went to their father and brought their loaves. The king

took the loaf from his big son, took a look, and said, “You’d eat that
kind of
119

The Frog and the Bogatyr

bread only in great poverty!” He took the middle son’s loaf and said,
“This

bread is no better!” Then he took the bread from the youngest son
and or-

dered that this bread be served at his table when he had guests. “My
dear

children!” the king continued. “Your wives have done everything for
me that

I ordered, and therefore I ask you and your wives to come to the
palace

tomorrow for dinner.” The princes went back to their wives.

Ivan- Bogatyr was greatly sorrowed, and he thought, “How will I take
a

frog with me?”

But the frog, sitting in a chair, asked, “Kvaa-kvaa-kvaa! Ivan- Bogatyr,

what are you so sorrowful about?”

Ivan- Bogatyr answered, “How could I help being sorrowful? Father

has

ordered us all to come to his palace tomorrow and bring their wives.
But

how can I bring you?”

“Do not weep, do not grieve,” said the frog. “Morning’s wiser than the

evening. Lie down and sleep!”

The next day Ivan- Bogatyr got ready and went to the palace, but the

daughters-in-law sent the scullery maid again to watch. What would

the

frog be traveling in? Just then the frog opened the window and called
out in

a loud voice. “Ah, you wild winds! Fly to my country and tell them to
send a

rich carriage, with the whole set, with lackeys, with haiduks,62 with
heralds

and with horsemen.” After that she slammed her window shut and sat
down

on the chair.

Everyone had already ridden to the palace; they were only waiting for

the frog. Suddenly they saw footmen running, horsemen galloping,

and

up drove an extremely rich carriage. The king thought some other

king or

queen must be coming to visit him, and he went out to meet them.
“Don’t

trouble yourself, Father!” said Ivan- Bogatyr. “That just means my

froggie’s

dragging along in a box.”

The carriage drove up, and Ivan- Bogatyr’s wife got out, such a
beauty

that everyone began to marvel. They sat at the table. Whatever the
frog

didn’t finish drinking, she poured into her sleeve, and she put the
bones

in her other sleeve. The other daughters-in-law saw and started to do

the

same thing. Whatever they didn’t finish drinking, they would pour into
one

sleeve, and whatever they didn’t finish eating they put into the other.
When

they got up from the table, music began to play, and the frog went to
dance.

She waved one sleeve, and suddenly water stood one arshin high, 63
she waved the other sleeve, and geese and swans sailed off across
the water. When they

saw this, no one could marvel enough at her cunning. But when she
stopped

dancing, it all disappeared—the water, the geese, and the swans.

120

The Frog and the Bogatyr

Then the other daughters-in-law went to dance, and when they

waved
their sleeves they slopped and sprayed on everyone and almost
knocked

people’s eyes out with the bones!

Just then Ivan- Bogatyr headed home, took the frog’s skin, and
burned it

right away. His wife came home and ran to find her frog skin. She
couldn’t

find it, and she said, “Well, Ivan- Bogatyr! Since you couldn’t wait for
even

a little time, then search for me over thrice-nine lands, in the thrice-
tenth

kingdom, in the sunflower kingdom, and know that I am called

Vasilisa the

Wise.” She said this, and then she suddenly disappeared.

Ivan- Bogatyr began to cry inconsolably and set off to search for
Vasilisa

the Wise. He walked for a long time or a short time, near or far—
quickly

may a tale be spun, but not so fast a deed is done!—and he came to

a little

house that stood on chicken legs and spun around by itself. Ivan-
Bogatyr

said, “Little house, little house! Stand with your back to the woods,
your

front to me!” And at his words the little house stopped.

Ivan- Bogatyr went into the house and saw a Baba Yaga sitting in the

front corner. She spoke up in an angry voice. “Until now the Russian
spirit

was unheard by the hearing and unseen by the sight, but nowadays
the

Russian spirit appears before my eyes! What are you doing, Ivan-
Bogatyr?

By free will or by compulsion?”

Ivan- Bogatyr answered that it was this much by free will, but twice as

much by compulsion, and he told her everything that had happened.

“I’m sorry for you,” said the Baba Yaga. “Be my guest, I’ll do you a
good

turn, I’ll show you Vasilisa the Wise. She comes flying to see me
every day

to take a rest. When she comes flying, you try to catch her by the
head.

When you catch her she’ll start to turn into a frog, a toad, a snake,
and other

kinds of unclean creatures, and last of all she’ll turn into an arrow.
You take

that arrow and break it in two, and she’ll be yours forever. Just take
care:

once you catch your wife don’t let her go!”

Then Baba Yaga hid the prince, and hardly had she managed to hide
him when Vasilisa the Wise came flying. Ivan- Bogatyr went over to
her soft-

ly and grabbed her by the head. She began to turn into a frog, a toad,
and

finally a snake. Ivan-Bogatyr was frightened and loosened his grip.

That very

moment Vasilisa the Wise disappeared.

Baba Yaga said to him, “If you couldn’t hold her, you’ll never see her
here

again. But if you wish, go see my sister. Vasilisa the Wise goes to visit
her,

too, to rest.” Ivan- Bogatyr set off to see the second Baba Yaga, and
there too

he couldn’t keep hold of Vasilisa the Wise. He went to see the third
Baba

Yaga sister.

121

The Frog and the Bogatyr

“If you let Vasilisa the Wise go this time, then you’ll never find her

again,” she said. This time, no matter what Vasilisa the Wise turned
into,

Ivan- Bogatyr didn’t let her out of his hands. Finally she turned into an
ar-
row. Ivan- Bogatyr took the arrow and broke it in two. That very
moment

Vasilisa the Wise appeared before him and said, “Well, Ivan- Bogatyr,
now I

give myself to your will!”

The Baba Yaga gave them a flying carpet, and they flew off on the
flying

carpet to their own state. Three days passed, and on the fourth the
carpet

landed right in the palace. The king met his son and daughter-in-law
with

great joy, held a great feast, and afterward made Ivan- Bogatyr king
after him.64

(Afanas’ev, appendix 8 to tales no. 267–69)

122
The Frog Princess

In a certain kingdom, in a certain state there lived a tsar with

his tsaritsa. He had three sons, all young and unmarried, such

brave men that it’s not possible to tell it in a tale or write it

with a pen. The youngest one was called Prince Ivan.

One day the tsar said to them, “My dear children, each of

you take an arrow, draw your bows tight, and shoot in differ-

ent directions. Wherever your arrow falls, go to that house-

hold to find a bride.”

The eldest brother shot his arrow, and it fell in the yard of a boyar, just

outside the maidens’ chambers. 65 The middle son shot; his arrow
flew into

a merchant’s yard and landed by the main porch, and on that porch
stood a

fair maiden, the merchant’s daughter. The youngest son shot, and the
arrow

landed in a muddy swamp, where a croaking frog picked it up.

Prince Ivan said, “How can I take a croaker for a wife? A croaking
frog’s

not a match for me!”

“Marry her,” the tsar answered him. “It means that this is your fate.”

So the princes were married: the eldest to the boyar’s daughter, the
middle one to the merchant’s daughter, and Prince Ivan to the
croaking frog.

The tsar called them together and ordered, “Let each of your wives
bake

me a loaf of soft white bread by tomorrow.”

Prince Ivan returned to his chambers, sorrowful, with his wild head

hanging lower than his shoulders.

“Kvaa-kvaa, Prince Ivan! Why have you grown so sad?” the frog
asked

him. “Or have you heard an unkind word from your father?”

“How can I not be sad? The lord my father orders you to prepare a
loaf

of soft white bread by tomorrow.”

“Don’t grieve, prince! Go to sleep and rest; morning is wiser than the

evening!” She put the prince to bed and threw off her frog skin, and
she

turned into a fair maiden, Vasilisa the Wise. She went out on the main

porch and called in a loud voice, “Nurses and nannies! Gather here,
get

123

The Frog Princess

ready, and make a soft, white loaf of bread, like the ones I ate and
tasted in

my own father’s house.”

In the morning, when Prince Ivan woke up, the frog had the bread
long

ready, and it was so wonderful that you couldn’t imagine it or guess,

but only

tell of it in a tale! The bread was decorated with all kinds of clever
designs;

on the sides you could see the tsar’s cities with banners.

The tsar thanked Prince Ivan for the bread and right away gave
another

order to his three sons: “Let each of your wives weave me a carpet in
a

single night.”

Prince Ivan came back, sorrowful, with his wild head hanging lower

than his shoulders.

“Kvaa-kvaa, Prince Ivan! Why have you grown so sad? Or have you

heard a harsh word, an unkind word from your father?”

“How can I help but be sad? The lord my father has ordered that you

must weave him a silken carpet in a single night.”

“Don’t grieve, Prince! Lie down to sleep and rest. Morning’s wiser

than the evening!” She put him to bed, but she threw off her frog skin
and
turned into a fair maiden, Vasilisa the Wise. She went out on the main

porch and cried in a loud voice, “Nurses and nannies! Gather here,
prepare

yourselves to weave a silken carpet—let it be like the one I sat on in

my

own father’s house!”

No sooner said than done. In the morning Prince Ivan awoke, and the

frog had her carpet long finished. It was so marvelous that you
couldn’t

imagine it or guess at it, but perhaps only tell of it in a tale. The carpet
was

decorated with silver and gold, with clever patterns.

The tsar thanked Prince Ivan for the carpet and right away gave a
new

order: all three princes should come to visit him for inspection,
together

with their wives. Again Prince Ivan came back home sorrowful, with
his

wild head hanging lower than his shoulders.

“Kvaa-kvaa, Prince Ivan! Why are you grieving? Or have you heard
an

unwelcoming word from your father?”

“How can I help but be sad? The lord my father demands that I bring

you to an inspection. But how can I show you to people!?”

“Don’t grieve, prince! Go by yourself to visit your father, and I’ll come

along after you. When you hear knocking and thunder, just say: that’s
my

froggie riding in a little box.”

So the older brothers went to their father for inspection with their

wives, all dressed up and decked out. They stood there and laughed
at

Prince Ivan. “Why did you come without your wife, brother? You could
at

124
The Frog Princess

Baba Yaga as the queen of

hearts (ironically, though

she does aid loving couples)

appears on the face of a

post-Soviet pack of cards,

designed by Palekh art-

ist Aleksei Orleanskii in

the 1990s. The ace of

hearts depicts her hut on

chicken legs, with skulls

(and mushrooms—never

mentioned in Russian fairy

tales), whereas the back of

the box shows the hut as

a four-suit image. The face

cards were later reproduced

by Orleanskii in the form of

postcards. The deck in its

entirety showcases Russian

lower mythology—leshii

(forest spirit; king of hearts),

rusalka (mermaid; queen of

clubs), Koshchei the Death-

less (king of spades), and

so forth.

least have brought her in a handkerchief! And where did you find
such a

beauty? You must’ve searched through all the swamps!”

Suddenly there was a great knocking and thunder—the whole palace

started to shake. The guests were mighty scared; they jumped up
from their

places and didn’t know what to do.

But Prince Ivan said, “Don’t fear, ladies and gentlemen! It’s my
froggie,

riding in a little box.”

A gilded carriage drawn by six horses flew up to the tsar’s porch, and

Vasilisa the Wise stepped out of it. Well, you can’t imagine or guess
what a

beauty she was, but only tell of it in a tale! She took Prince Ivan by
the hand

and led him to the oak tables, to the laden tablecloths.

The guests began to eat and drink, to make merry. Vasilisa the Wise

drank from her glass and poured the last drops into her left sleeve.
She ate

some swan and hid the little bones in her right sleeve. The wives of
the older

brothers saw her tricks and started doing the same things
themselves.

Later, when Vasilisa the Wise went to dance with Prince Ivan, she
waved

her left sleeve and a lake appeared, waved her right sleeve and white
swans

swam across the water. The tsar and his guests were astounded.
But when the older daughters-in-law went to dance, they waved their

left sleeves and spattered the guests. They waved their right sleeves
and a

125

The Frog Princess

bone flew right into the tsar’s eye! The tsar got angry and sent them
away

without honor.

Meanwhile, Prince Ivan chose a good moment, ran home, found the
frog

skin, and burned it in a great fire.

When Vasilisa the Wise returned, she took a look, but her frog skin

wasn’t anywhere. She grew dejected and sad, and she said to the
prince, “Oh,

Prince Ivan! What have you done? If you had waited just a little bit
longer

I would have been yours forever; but now farewell! Seek me beyond
thrice-

nine lands, in the thrice-tenth kingdom, with Koshchei the Deathless.”

She

turned into a white swan66 and flew out the window.

Prince Ivan started crying bitterly, prayed to God in all four directions
and set out—heading wherever his eyes looked.

He walked quickly or slowly, for a long time or a short time, and he

came upon an old, old man. “Hello, you fine young lad!” he said.
“What do

you seek and where are you going?”

The prince told him about his misfortune.

“Eh, Prince Ivan! Why did you burn the frog skin? You weren’t the one

who put it on her, so it wasn’t your place to take it off! Vasilisa the
Wise was

born craftier and more clever than her father. He got angry with her
for that

and turned her into a croaker for three years. Here’s a ball of thread
for you,

follow it bravely wherever it rolls.”

Prince Ivan thanked the old man and set off after the ball of thread.
He

was walking through an open field when he met a bear. “Here, let me
kill

this beast!” he said.

But the bear spoke to him, “Don’t strike me, Prince Ivan! Some day I’ll

be of use to you.”

He went on and saw a drake flying over him. The prince aimed his
rifle
and was ready to shoot the bird, when suddenly it spoke to him in a
human

voice. “Don’t shoot me, Prince Ivan! I’ll be of use to you some day.”

He took pity on it and went on. A crooked hare ran by. The prince
took

his rifle again and began to aim, but the hare spoke to him in a
human voice.

“Don’t shoot me, Prince Ivan! I’ll come in handy to you some day.”

Prince Ivan took pity on him and went along farther, up to the blue

sea, 67 and he saw a pike-fish lying on the sand, unable to breathe.

“Ah, Prince Ivan,” the fish spoke up. “Take pity on me, let me back
into the sea.” He

threw the fish into the sea and set off along the shore.

After a long time or a short time, the ball of thread rolled up to a little

house. The little house stood on chicken legs and spun around.
Prince Ivan

126

The Frog Princess

said, “Little house, little house! Stand in the old way, as your mother
set

you—with your face to me, your back to the sea.”

The little house turned its back to the sea and its front to him. The
prince went into the house and saw on the stove, on the ninth brick
shelf, a

Baba Yaga, bony leg, nose grown into the ceiling, her snot hanging
across the

threshold, her tits slung up on a hook, and she was sharpening her
teeth. 68

“Hail, good young man! Why have you come to see me?” the Baba
Yaga

asked Prince Ivan.

“Ah, you old hag! You’d do better to feed me first, give me a drink,
and

steam me in the bathhouse, fine young man that I am, and then you
could

ask questions.”

Baba Yaga fed him, gave him a drink, and steamed him in the
bathhouse.

The prince told her he was looking for his wife, Vasilisa the Wise.

“Ah, I know!” said the Baba Yaga. “Now she’s with Koshchei the

Deathless. It’s hard to get to her, and not easy to handle Koshchei.
His death

is on the tip of a needle, that needle’s in an egg. The egg’s inside a

duck, the

duck’s inside a hare, the hare’s in a trunk, and the trunk’s at the top of
a tall

oak tree, and Koshchei cares for that tree like the apple of his eye.”
Yaga pointed out the place where the oak tree grew. Prince Ivan went

there and didn’t know what to do: how could he get the trunk down?

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a bear ran up and tore the tree up by the
roots; the

trunk fell down and broke into little pieces. A hare dashed out of the
trunk

and ran off at full speed. Before he could take a second look, another
hare ran

after it, caught up with it, seized it, and tore it into little pieces. A duck
flew

up out of the hare and rose high into the sky. As she flew, the drake
raced

after her. When he hit the duck, she immediately dropped an egg,
and the

egg fell into the sea. Prince Ivan, seeing inevitable disaster, dissolved
in tears.

Suddenly the pike-fish swam to the shore, holding the egg in its teeth.

Prince Ivan took the egg, broke it, got the needle out, and snapped
off

its tip. No matter how Koshchei struggled, no matter how he thrashed

here

and there, still the time had come for him to die! 69

Prince Ivan went to Koshchei’s house, took Vasilisa the Wise and re-

turned home. After that they lived together long and happily.
(Afanas’ev, no. 269)

127

The Geese and Swans

There once lived an old man and an old woman. They

had a daughter and a baby son. “Daughter, daughter!”

said her mother. “We’re going to work. We’ll bring you a

bread-roll, we’ll sew you a dress and buy you a handker-

chief. Be good, take care of your little brother, and don’t

go out of the yard.”

The parents left, but the daughter forgot what they

had told her. She set her brother down on the grass un-

der the window, and she herself ran out onto the street and lost track
of the
time, playing and running around. The geese and swans flew over,
grabbed

the boy, and flew away with him.

The girl came back and looked, and her brother wasn’t there! She
gasped

and ran here and there, but he wasn’t anywhere! She called, she
sobbed, she

lamented—she was going to be in trouble with her father and mother

—but

her brother didn’t answer! She ran out into the empty field. She
caught sight

of the geese and swans far away, and then they disappeared beyond
the dark

forest. These geese and swans had had a bad reputation for a long
time; they

did a lot of harm and would steal little children. The girl guessed that
they

were the ones who had taken away her brother, and she ran off after
them.

She ran and ran and saw a stove standing there. “Stove, stove! Tell
me,

where did the geese fly?”

“Eat my rye pastry, and I’ll tell you.”

“Oh, in my dad’s house we don’t even eat wheat ones!”

The stove wouldn’t tell her. She ran farther and saw an apple tree
stand-

ing there. “Apple tree, apple tree! Tell me where the geese flew?”

“Eat some of my wild apple, and I’ll tell you.”

“Oh, in my dad’s house we don’t even eat orchard apples!”

She ran farther, and there was a river of milk, with banks of custard.

“Milk river, custard banks! Where did the geese fly?”

“Eat some of my simple custard with milk, and I’ll tell you.”

“Oh, at my dad’s we don’t even eat cream!”

128
The Geese and Swans
Baba Yaga / Geese and

Swans, by Katherine Bykova.

A lacquer box illustrating

Geese and Swans by the

young Palekh artist Kather-

ine Bykova, who also pro-

duces art for children. The

owl and the flying bats in the

background betray a Western

influence, for they are not

part of the Russian folkloric

tradition. Artist: Katherine

Bykova, from the village

of Palekh, http://www.rus

sianlacquerart.com/gallery/

Mstera/0000/001000.

And she would have run through the fields and wandered in the forest

for a long time, but fortunately she ran into a hedgehog. She wanted
to give

him a poke, but she was afraid of pricking herself, so she asked,
“Hedgehog,
hedgehog, did you happen to see where the geese flew?”

“Right that way,” he showed her.

She ran off, and there stood a little house on chicken legs: it stood
there

and turned around. Inside the house sat a Baba Yaga, sinewy snout,
leg

made of clay. She was sitting there, and the little brother was on a
bench

playing with golden apples. The sister saw him, stole up, grabbed
him, and

129
The Geese and Swans

A lacquer box titled Geese

and Swans by Dobrin Evgeny

Yurievich, a contemporary

Kholui specialist in minia-

tures. The green-dominated

and somewhat eerie image

illustrates one of the many

sibling plots in Russian

fairy tales. As so often, the

heroine (Alenushka) rescues

her little brother, Ivanushka,

who is kidnapped by Baba-

Yaga’s servants, the geese

and swans. Baba Yaga, with

her customary mortar and

broom, hut, and so forth,

plus the owl and walking

stick that are a recent in-

novation, threatens the boy

while her obedient geese

soar overhead. Artist: Dobrin

Evgeny Yurievich, from the

village of Kholuy, http://

tinyurl.com/bqtdfvk.

carried him away. But the geese flew after them and chased her. The
villains

were about to catch her; where could she hide?

The milk river was flowing by, with its banks of custard. “Mother river,

hide me!”

“Eat some of my custard!”

The girl had no choice, so she ate it. The river set her down under its

bank, and the geese flew past.

She came out and said, “Thank you!”

Again she went running with her little brother, but the geese had
turned

around and were flying toward her. What could she do? Oh no! There
stood

the apple tree. “Apple tree, mother apple tree! Hide me!”

“Eat my sour apple!” She ate it on the double. The apple tree shielded

her with its branches, covered her with its leaves, and the geese flew
by.

She came out and ran again with her brother, but the geese saw
them

and took off after her. They were ever so close, already hitting her
with
130

The Geese and Swans

their wings—just look, any second they would pull him out of her
arms!

Fortunately, the stove was just ahead of her. “My lady stove, hide
me!”

“Eat my rye pastry!”

The girl popped the pastry right into her mouth, and she herself
jumped

into the stove and sat down in its mouth. The geese flew and flew,
called and

called, and flew away with nothing. But the girl ran home, and it’s a
good

thing she managed to run home, because her father and mother had
just

come back.

(Afanas’ev, no. 113)

131
The Stepdaughter and the

Stepmother’s Daughter

There lived an old man and an old woman. They had

only one daughter. The old woman died, and the old

man married another woman. He had a daughter with

the second wife as well. The old woman didn’t like her

stepdaughter and was always trying to hurt her. Once

the old woman sent her to the river to wash thread

and told her, “Watch out! If you let the threads sink to

the bottom, then don’t bother coming home!”

The girl went to the river and laid the thread on the water. The thread

floated along the river, and she walked slowly along the bank after it.
The

thread floated all the way to the forest and sank.

She went into the forest and saw a little house on chicken legs. She

said, “Little house, little house! Stand with your back to the woods,
your

front to me!” The little house obeyed.

The stepdaughter went into it and saw a Yaga-Baba. Her head lay in

one corner of the house, her feet in another. The Baba Yaga saw her
and

said, “Fie, fie, fie! I can smell a Russian soul. What are you up to, girl,
doing

a deed or fleeing a deed?”

The girl told her that her mother had sent her to wash thread and said

that if she let it sink, she shouldn’t come home.

Baba Yaga made her heat up the bathhouse. The girl asked the
Yaga-

Baba, “Where’s your firewood?”

And the Yaga-Baba answered, “My firewood is behind the

bathhouse!”

But the fuel stacked there was really human bones.

The girl went to heat up the bathhouse, hauled in lots of bones, and

put them in the stove, but no matter how she tried she couldn’t make

them catch fire. The bones only smoldered. Then she sat on the
ground

and cried, and she saw a sparrow come flying up to her. The sparrow
said,
“Don’t cry, girl! Go into the woods, gather firewood there, and use it to

stoke the stove!”

132
The Stepdaughter and the Stepmother’s Daughter

The Feather of Finist the

Falcon by Ivan Bilibin, 1900.

Illustration by Ivan Bilibin

(1876–1942).

133

The Stepdaughter and the Stepmother’s Daughter

The girl did just that. Then she went and told the Yaga-Baba that the

bathhouse was heated. But the Yaga-Baba said, “Now go and bring
water

in a sieve!”

She went and thought, “How am I going to bring water in a sieve?”

The sparrow flew up again and said to her, “Why are you crying?
Smear

the sieve with clay!”

The girl did just that. She brought plenty of water and went to call the

Yaga-Baba to the bathhouse, but the Yaga-Baba answered, “You go

to the

bathhouse! I’ll send you my children now!” The girl went into the
bathhouse.
Suddenly she saw worms, frogs, rats, and all sorts of insects come
crawl-

ing up to her in the bathhouse. She washed all of them and gave
them a

good steaming. Then she went to get Baba Yaga and washed her,
too. Then

she washed herself. She came out of the bathhouse, and the Yaga-
Baba told

her to heat up the samovar. She did, and they drank tea.

Baba Yaga sent her into the cellar, too.

“There are two trunks in my cellar,” she said. “A red one and a blue
one.

Take the red one for yourself!” So the girl took the red trunk and went

home to her father. Her father was glad to see her. He opened the
trunk,

and the trunk was full of money.

The stepmother started to envy her and sent her own daughter to the

Baba Yaga, who told the girl to stoke the bathhouse with bones. The
spar-

row flew down to her and said, “Go into the woods and gather
firewood!”

But she swatted the bird with her hand. “Go away,” she said. “I don’t

need you to tell me that.” Yet she herself couldn’t get the bathhouse
heated.
Then the Baba Yaga told her to bring water in a sieve.

The sparrow flew up to her again and said, “You could smear the
sieve

with clay.”

She hit it again. “Go away,” she said. “I don’t need you to tell me
that.”

But then she saw that rats and frogs and all sorts of vermin were
coming

into the bathhouse. She squashed half of them, but the others ran
home

and complained about her to their mother. The stepmother’s daughter

went

back to the Baba Yaga. Baba Yaga told her to heat up the samovar,
and she

did. After tea Baba Yaga sent her to the cellar and told her to take the
blue

trunk. The girl was very happy. She ran into the cellar, grabbed the
trunk,

and ran off home. Her father and mother were waiting for her at the
front

gate. She and her mother went into the shed and opened the lid of
the

trunk. But there was fire in it, and it burned them both up.71

(Khudiakov, no. 14)70

134
The Tale of the Daring Young

Man and the Apples of Youth

Once there lived a tsar with his tsaritsa, and he had

three sons. One day he sent out his sons to find the

water of youth. So the princes set out on their way.

They rode up to a pillar where the road split in three,

and on the pillar it said: if you go to the right, the fine

young man will be sated, but his horse hungry. If you

go to the left, the young man will be hungry, but his

horse sated. If you go straight, there’s no way you’ll

stay alive. The eldest prince set off to the right, the middle one to the
left,

and the youngest went straight ahead. 72 For a long time, for a short
time, the youngest brother rode, and he came upon a deep ditch. He
didn’t think long

about how to cross it. He blessed himself, whipped his horse, jumped
across

to the other side, and saw a little house beside a deep forest—it
stood on

chicken legs. “Little house, little house! Turn your back to the forest,
your

front to me.”

The little house turned around. The prince went inside, and there sat
a

Baba Yaga. “Fie, fie!” she said. “Until now there was no sight of the
Russian

spirit, no sound of it, but now the Russian spirit appears before my
eyes,

puts itself into my mouth! What is it, good young man, are you fleeing
a

deed or doing a deed?”

“Ah, you old hag! You shouldn’t be talking, and I shouldn’t be

listening.

First bring me something to drink and eat, and then ask me

questions.” She

gave him something to drink and eat, asked for his news, and gave
him her

winged horse. “Off you go, sir, to see my middle sister.”

He rode for a long time or a short time and then saw a little house. He
went inside, and there was a Baba Yaga. “Fie, fie!” she said. “Until
now the

Russian spirit wasn’t to be seen by the eyes, wasn’t to be heard with

the

hearing, but now the Russian spirit appears before my eyes, puts
itself into

my mouth! What is it, young man, are you doing a deed or fleeing a
deed?”

“Eh, auntie! Give me something to drink and eat, and then ask me

questions.”

135
The Tale of the Daring Young Man and the Apples of Youth

A Baba Yaga matryoshka.

The matryoshka, otherwise

known as a stacking doll, pi-

oneered in the 1890s during

Russia’s concerted push to

create a traditional national

identity through folk culture,

symbolized the country’s ro-

bust fecundity (matryoshka/

mater/mother), reified in

the womblike construction

of the item. For decades the

matryoshka functioned as

tourists’ favorite memento

and empirical proof of their

visit to Russia. One of many

Baba Yaga matryoshkas,

this set comprises her

pear-shaped figure, the hut,

the egg, and an ambiguous-

looking “needle.”

She gave him something to drink and eat and started to ask, “What

fates have brought you to these distant lands?”

“My father sent me to search for the water of youth.”

“Well, take my best horse for a change and go see my oldest sister.”
The prince set off on his road without delay. For a long time or for a

short time he rode, and again he saw a little house on chicken legs.
“Little

house, little house! Stand with your front to me, your back to the
forest.”

The little house turned around. He went in, and there sat a Baba
Yaga.

“Fie, fie! Until now the Russian spirit wasn’t to be seen or heard, but
now

the Russian spirit appears before my eyes, puts itself into my mouth!
Well,

young man, are you doing a deed or fleeing a deed?”

“Eh, you old hag! You haven’t fed me, haven’t given me anything to

drink, but you’re asking for news.”

The Baba Yaga gave him food, gave him something to drink, asked
him

for his news, and gave him a horse better than the first two. “Go with
God!

There’s a kingdom not far away. Don’t you ride in at the gates. There
are

lions on guard at the gates,73 but give my horse a good lashing and
jump right over the fence. Watch out, don’t snag on the strings. If you
do, the whole

kingdom will rise up, and then you won’t remain alive! And once you
jump
over the fence, open the door softly, and you’ll see the Tsar-Maiden
sleeping.

136

The Tale of the Daring Young Man and the Apples of Youth

She has a vial with the water of youth hidden under her pillow. You
take the

vial and hurry back. Don’t look too long upon her beauty.”

The prince did everything as the Baba Yaga had told him. There was

only one thing he could not resist—he looked too long at the maiden’s

beauty . . . He mounted the horse, and the horse’s legs were shaky.
He went

to jump over the fence, and he hit one of the strings. In a moment the
whole

kingdom awoke; the Tsar-Maiden got up and ordered her horse

saddled. But

the Baba Yaga already knew what was happening to the young man,
and she

was preparing for the response. She barely had time to let the prince
come

in, when the Tsar-Maiden flew up and found the Baba Yaga all
disheveled.

The Tsar-Maiden said to her, “How dare you allow such a rascal into
my kingdom? He lay with me, he drank some kvass and didn’t cover
up

the pitcher.”

“My lady, Tsar-Maiden! You must see how my hair is messed up. I
fought

with him for a long time, but I couldn’t overcome him.” The other two
Baba

Yagas said the same thing.

The Tsar-Maiden raced off in pursuit of the prince and was just about

to grab him when he leapt over the ditch. The Tsar-Maiden called
after him,

“Wait for me in three years’ time. I’ll come on a ship.”

The prince was so happy that he didn’t notice he had come back to
the

pillar and turned to the left. He came to a silver mountain, where a

tent was

pitched. Beside the tent stood a horse, eating bright white wheat and
drink-

ing honeyed ale, and in the tent lay a fine young man—his very own
brother.

The younger prince said to him, “Let’s go and find our older brother.”

They saddled their horses and rode off to the right. They rode up to

a golden mountain, where a tent was pitched. Beside the tent a horse
was
eating bright white wheat, drinking honeyed ale; inside the tent lay a
fine

young man—their older brother. They woke him up and set off all
together

toward the pillar where the three roads came together. They sat down
there

to rest. The two older brothers began to question the younger one:
“Did you

find the water of youth for our father?”

“I found it.”

“How and where?”

He told them everything that had happened, then lay down on the
grass

and fell asleep. The brothers cut him up into tiny pieces and threw
them

all around the empty field. They took the vial with the water of youth
with

them and set off back to their father’s palace.

Suddenly a firebird flew up, collected all the scattered pieces, and put

them together, the way a person is supposed to be. Then she brought
dead

137
The Tale of the Daring Young Man and the Apples of Youth

The Red Horseman or The

Sunrise Horseman by Forest

Rogers. http://www.forestro

gers.com/.

water in her mouth, sprinkled it, and all the pieces grew together. She

brought living water, sprinkled it, and the prince came back to life,
stood up,

and said, “I was asleep for such a long time!”

The firebird answered, “You would have slept forever without waking,

if not for me!”

The prince thanked the bird and set off for home. His father felt no
love

for him and refused to have him within his sight, so for three whole
years he

wandered around in various corners.

But once three years had passed, the Tsar-Maiden came sailing on a

ship and sent the tsar a letter, asking him to send out the guilty man.
If he

resisted, she would burn and slash his whole kingdom to the ground.
The

tsar sent out his oldest son, and he went to the ship. Two little boys,
the

Tsar-Maiden’s sons, saw him and asked their mother, “Isn’t this our
father?”

“No, that’s your uncle.”

“Then how should we welcome him?”

“Each of you take a whip and send that one back.”

The older brother went back home, looking as if he had tasted some-

thing unsalted! But the Tsar-Maiden made the same threats and
demanded

that the tsar hand over the guilty party. The tsar sent out his second
son,

and the same thing happened to him as to the first one.

Then the tsar ordered that the youngest prince be found, and as soon
as they found him, his father started to send him to the ship to the
Tsar-

138

The Tale of the Daring Young Man and the Apples of Youth

Maiden. But he said, “I’ll go only when there is a crystal bridge built,

reaching all the way to the ship, and all kinds of food and wines laid
out

on the bridge.”

There was nothing to be done: they built the bridge, prepared lots of

dishes, and stocked up on wine and mead. The prince gathered his
com-

rades and said, “Come along with me as my company, eat and drink,
don’t

stint yourselves!”

Then he walked over the bridge, and the boys shouted, “Mother!

Who’s that?”

“That is your dad.”

“How should we welcome him?”

“Take him by the hands and bring him to me.”

Here they kissed, embraced, caressed, and afterward they went to

the
tsar and told him everything that had happened. The tsar drove his
older

sons away from the court, but he began to live and live well with the
young-

est, and to earn riches.

(Afanas’ev, no. 172)

139

The Tale of the Fine Young Man

and the Apples of Youth

Over the waters, over the lands, over the Russian

cities there was a tsar. He had three sons, and the

youngest son was Prince Ivan. Near that kingdom

was a mountain no one could climb, on foot or on

horseback. The tsar heard a knock that knocked and

a thunder that thundered on the mountain, but what

could it be? No one knew, and he sent his first son

to find out why a knock was knocking and thunder

thundering on the mountain. The first son rode up only one third of
the

mountain and came back. He went to his father and said, “My lord
father! I

rode as you ordered, but I could barely get a third of the way up the
moun-

tain.” After some time the tsar sent off his middle son, who rode
halfway up

the mountain but could do no more and turned back. Then the tsar
sent his

youngest son, Prince Ivan.

Prince Ivan chose a good horse for himself in the tsar’s stables, said

farewell to his father, and in a moment he had disappeared. He rode

up to

the top of the mountain, as if a falcon had flown up it, and he saw a
palace

standing there. Prince Ivan got off his good horse and went into the
house.

In the house an old Baba Yaga was sitting on a chair and spinning
fine silk.

“Hello, old Baba Yaga!” said Prince Ivan.

“Hello, young man! Until now a Russian bone wasn’t to be seen or

smelled, but now it’s come into my yard by itself.” And she began to
ask

him, “What families are you from, and what cities, and whose father’s
son

are you?”

Prince Ivan answered her, “I’m Prince Ivan, the son of the Russian
tsar.

I rode into your mountains to find out what kind of knock is knocking
and

what kind of thunder is thundering.”

The Baba Yaga told him, “The knock is knocking and the thunder’s

thundering in our mountains because the black-braided Tsar-Maiden,

the

beautiful beauty, is riding.”

“Is that Tsar-Maiden far away?” asked Prince Ivan.

140
The Tale of the Fine Young Man and the Apples of Youth

The Adventures of Baba

Yaga: Little Girl Stew,

Messenger Theatre Co.

Adapted and directed by

Emily Davis, produced by

Agathe David-Weill, http://

tinyurl.com/c4vsajp. Photo

by Stuart Wagner.
“Twice as far as you’ve already ridden!” said the Baba Yaga. She
gave

him a drink, fed him and put him to sleep. And in the morning Prince
Ivan

got up early-early, said farewell to the old Baba Yaga, and rode
onward.

He’d ridden for exactly four months when he saw a castle standing.
He

got off his horse, went into the house, and in the house sat an old
Baba Yaga.

“Hello, Baba Yaga!” said Prince Ivan.

“Hi, boy! Is your road a long one? How has God brought you this
way?”

He told her everything. The Baba Yaga gave him drink and food and
put

him to bed, and in the morning Prince Ivan got up early-early, said
farewell

to the Baba Yaga, and rode onward. Again he rode for exactly four
months,

and then he saw a courtyard standing there. He got off his good
horse and

went into the house, and in the house sat a Baba Yaga. “Hello, old
Baba

Yaga!” said Prince Ivan.

“Hello, Prince Ivan! How has God brought you here?”

He told her everything, where and why he was riding. “Many tsars
and

princes have come to see our Tsar-Maiden,” said the Baba Yaga,
“and they

didn’t ride back out alive! The walls around her city are high, and
there are

strings tightened on the walls, and if you touch even one string, then
all of a

sudden the strings sing out, the drums begin to beat, all the bogatyr
men will

be disturbed, and the guards will kill you, too.”

141
The Tale of the Fine Young Man and the Apples of Youth

Vasilisa goes into the Woods,

to borrow light from Baba

Yaga by Forest Rogers. Image

by the versatile contempo-

rary American artist Forest

Rogers, who specializes in

fantasy art, favors female

subjects, and obviously was

influenced by the renowned

fairy-tale illustrations of Ar-

thur Rackham and Edmund

Dulac. Inspired by the most

popular version of “Vasilisa

the Beautiful” (Afanas’ev,

no. 104), the visual depicts

Vasilisa’s journey through

the forest to obtain light

from Baba Yaga. As con-

ceived by Rogers, this scene

resembles a sequence in

Aleksandr Rou’s film Vasilisa

the Beautiful (1939), based

on motifs from sundry fairy

tales, including the best-

known version of “The Frog

Princess” (Afanas’ev, no.

150). Rogers’s dense forest

recalls the mysterious, dark

domain of Baba Yaga and the

three-headed dragon Zmei

Gorynych, from whom the

on-screen simpleton Ivan

must rescue his beloved.

Illustration by Forest Rogers,

http://www.forestrogers

.com/.

Prince Ivan waited for the dark of night, mounted his horse, and gal-

loped on his good horse over the high walls. He didn’t touch a single
one of

the strings. Prince Ivan got off his horse, but at that time the bogatyr
men

and sentries were all sleeping, so he went right into the royal palace
—into
the bedroom of the Tsar-Maiden. The Tsar-Maiden was sleeping, too.
The

fine young man looked a long time at her indescribable beauty, and
forget-

ting that death was just over his shoulder he sweetly kissed her. He
left the

bedroom, mounted his good horse, and rode out of the city. The
horse leapt

up and caught on the tight strings. At once the strings sang out, the
drums

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The Tale of the Fine Young Man and the Apples of Youth

thundered, the bogatyr men, guards, and the whole army awoke, and
the

beauteous beauty, the black-braided Tsar-Maiden, awoke and

realized that

someone had been in her bedroom and that she was pregnant from
him.

She ordered her carriage prepared, took along provisions for a whole
year,

and set off after Prince Ivan. She rode up to the old Yaga-Baba and
said to

her very angrily, “Why didn’t you catch a man like that? He rode into
my
kingdom, dared to come into my bedroom and kiss me.”

The Baba Yaga answered her, “I couldn’t restrain that man, and even
you

will have trouble catching him!”

The Tsar-Maiden went off farther to catch up and drove up to the mid-

dle Baba Yaga, “Why didn’t you catch a man like that?”

The old Baba Yaga answered her, “How is an old woman like me sup-

posed to hold onto a fine young man? Even you will hardly be able to
catch

up to him!”

Again the Tsar-Maiden set out on the road. A little while before she

reached the oldest Baba Yaga she gave birth to a son. Her son grew
not by

the year, but by the hour. At three hours her child looked the way a
child

looks at three months, and at three months hers looked the way a
child

looks at three years. She came to the last Yaga-Baba and asked,
“Why didn’t

you hold onto the good young man?”

“How is an old woman like me supposed to stop a fine young man

like that?”

Without waiting at all the Tsar-Maiden rushed ahead, rode as far as

the
mountain, and saw that Prince Ivan was halfway down the mountain,
and she

herself set off down the mountain after him. She drove to the border
of his

kingdom. There she pitched her white tents, spread the whole road to
the city

with red cloths, and sent an emissary to the tsar with the request:
“Whoever

it might be from his kingdom who came into her chambers at night-
time, let

the tsar give that one up to her. If you don’t give him up, then I’ll
capture your

kingdom, burn it down with fire, and roll it like a charred log.”

The tsar summoned his oldest son and sent him out to answer to the

Tsar-Maiden. The prince set off and came to the place where the red
cloths

were spread out, washed his feet until they were white as could be,
and went

along barefoot. The Tsar-Maiden’s son saw him and said to his
mother,

“Here comes my dad!”

“No, darling son! That’s your uncle.”

As soon as the oldest prince came to the Tsar-Maiden, she gave him
one
blow with her lash74 and knocked two bones out of his spine: why
was an

innocent person coming to answer? The next day she once again
demanded

143

The Tale of the Fine Young Man and the Apples of Youth

the guilty one from the tsar. The tsar sent out his middle son. The
prince

came to the red cloths, took off his boots and went barefoot. The
Tsar-

Maiden gave him a blow of her lash and knocked two bones out of his
spine.

On the third day the tsar sent out his youngest son, Prince Ivan.
Prince

Ivan mounted his good horse, rode up to the red cloths, and trampled
all the

cloths into the mud. When the Tsar-Maiden’s son saw him he said to
his

mother, “What kind of fool is that riding?”

“Darling son, it’s your father riding,” the Tsar-Maiden answered. She

went out herself to meet him, took him by his white hands, kissed his
sug-

ared lips and led him into the white tents, sat him down at oak tables,
and
gave him all the food and drink he wanted. Then they went to see the
tsar

and receive lawful marriage and, after spending a little while in that
king-

dom, they set out on ships to the realm of the Tsar-Maiden. There
they

ruled long and with good fortune.

(Afanas’ev, no. 178)

144

The Tale of the Fine Young Man

and the Apples of Youth II

Once there lived a tsar. The tsar had three sons,

Fyodor, Yegor and Ivan. Ivan was not quite all there

in the head. The tsar sent his oldest son out to get
living water, and to get the sweet apples of youth.

He set out and rode until he came to a fork in the

road. Here stood a pillar, and on the pillar was an

inscription: “If you go to the right, you’ll drink and

eat; if you go to the left, you’ll lose your head.” He

headed to the right and came to a house. He went into the house,
and there

a maiden said to him, “Prince Fyodor! Come sleep with me.” He lay
down,

and she up and shoved him into who knows where. The tsar didn’t
wait for

him long but sent out his second son. This one set off and came to
the same

place. He went into the house. The maiden took care of this one as
well. The

tsar sent his third son: “You go!”

The youngest son set off, rode up to the same fork in the road, and
said,

“For the sake of my father I’ll go and lose my head!” And he rode to
the left.

He came to a house, went in, and in the house was a yagishna.75

She was

sitting at a spinning wheel, spinning silk thread on a gold spindle, and

she
said, “Where, Russian bone Prince Ivan, have you set out to go?”

He answered, “Give me something to drink and eat, then ask me

about

everything.”

She gave him something to eat and drink and asked him questions.
He

said, “I’ve set off to get living water, and the sweet apples of youth—
there,

where White Swan Zakhar’evna lives.”

Yagishna said to him, “You’re not likely to get them! Perhaps I’ll help

you,” and she gave him her horse.

He mounted and rode off, and he came to the house of a second ya-

gishna sister. He went into the house, and she said to him, “Fie-fie,
there

was no scent or sight of Russian bone, but now it’s come right into my
yard.

Where are you headed, Prince Ivan?”

145

The Tale of the Fine Young Man and the Apples of Youth II

He answered, “First give me something to eat and drink, then ask me

questions.” She gave him something to drink and eat, and he said,
“I’ve set
off to get hold of living water and the sweet apples of youth—there
where

White Swan Zakhar’evna lives.”

“You’re not likely to get them!” said the old woman, and she gave him

her horse.

The prince set off to see the third yagishna. He went into the house,

and she said, “Fie, fie, there was no smell and no sight of Russian
bone, but

now Russian bone has come into the yard by itself. Where are you
headed,

Prince Ivan?”

“First give me something to eat and drink, then ask me questions.”

She

gave him something to eat and drink, and then he said, “I’m off to get
living

water and the sweet apples of youth.”

“That’s hard, prince! You’re not likely to get them.” Then she gave him

her horse and a seven-hundred club, and she told him, “When you
ride up

to the city, hit the horse with the club so he’ll jump over the fortress
wall.”

So that’s what he did. He leapt over the fortress wall, hitched his
horse
to a pillar, and went into the palace of White Swan Zakhar’evna. The
ser-

vants did not want to let him pass, but he pushed his way through
them.

“I’m bringing a message for White Swan Zakhar’evna,” he said. He

fought

his way to the chambers of White Swan Zakhar’evna. At that time she
was

sound asleep, stretched out on a feather bed, and the living water
was under

her pillow. He took the water, kissed the maiden, and wickedly had
his way

with her. Later, after he had gathered some of the apples of youth, he
set

off to go back. His horse leapt over the fortress wall and clipped its
edge.

Suddenly all the bells sounded, all the gongs, and the whole city
awoke.

White Swan Zakhar’evna ran about—first she beat this nurse, then
she

pounded that one, and she shouted, “Get up! Someone was in the
house and

drank some water, but he didn’t close the well.”

Meanwhile, the prince rode up to the house of the first yagishna and

changed horses. But Swan Zakhar’evna was chasing him. She came
to the
yagishna at the house where the prince had just changed horses, and
asked

her, “Where did you go riding? Your horse is all in a lather.”

She answered, “I rode out into the field to drive the livestock.”

Prince Ivan changed horses at the second yagishna’s house. But

Swan

Zakhar’evna arrived right after him and said, “Where, yagishna, have
you

been riding? Your horse is in a lather.”

“I rode into the field to drive out the livestock, that’s why my horse

is sweaty.”

146

The Tale of the Fine Young Man and the Apples of Youth II

Prince Ivan came to the last yagishna and changed horses. But Swan

Zakhar’evna was still chasing, and she came up just after him. She
asked the

yagishna, “Why is your horse sweaty?”

She answered, “I rode out in the field to drive the livestock out.”

After that, White Swan Zakhar’evna returned home, but Prince Ivan

rode to find his brothers. He came to where they were. The maiden
leapt out
onto the porch and said, “Welcome!” Then she invited him to sleep
with her.

The prince said, “Give me something to drink and eat, then put me to
bed.”

She gave him something to drink and eat and said again, “Come to
bed

with me!”

The prince answered, “You lie down first!”

She lay down first, and he shoved her. The maiden flew who knows

where. Prince Ivan thought, “Well, let’s open up this trap. Could this
be

where my brothers are?” He opened it—and they were sitting right

there.

He said to them, “Come out, my brothers! What are you doing here?
Aren’t

you ashamed?”

They got their things together and set out homeward to see their
father.

Along the way the older brothers got the idea of killing the younger
one.

Prince Ivan realized what they were thinking and said, “Don’t strike
me, I’ll

give you everything!”

They didn’t agree to that. Instead, they killed him and scattered his
bones over the empty field. Prince Ivan’s horse gathered his bones
into one

place and sprinkled them with the water of life. His bones and joints
healed

back together. The prince came back to life and said, “I slept a long
time, but

woke up quickly!”

He came to his father wearing a rude canvas caftan,76 and his father
said,

“Where have you been? Go and clean the latrines.”

At the same time White Swan Zakhar’evna rode out onto the
hereditary

meadows of the tsar and sent the tsar a letter, telling him to hand
over the

guilty one. The tsar sent his oldest son.

White Swan’s little children, catching sight of him, shouted, “Here

comes

our father! How should we welcome him?”

But their mother said, “No, that’s not your father, it’s your uncle. Treat

him to what you have in your hands.”

And each of them was holding an oak club. They gave his sides such
a

drubbing77 that he could hardly walk back home.

Then the tsar sent his second son. When that one arrived, the
children

rejoiced and shouted, “Here comes our father!”

But their mother said, “No, that’s your uncle.”

147

The Tale of the Fine Young Man and the Apples of Youth II

“How should we welcome him?”

“Why, treat him to what you have in your hands!”

They gave his sides a drubbing just like the one they had given to the

oldest brother.

Then White Swan Zakhar’evna sent a message to the tsar saying

that

he must send out the guilty one. The tsar finally sent his youngest
son. He

wandered over—he was wearing ragged bast shoes78 and a ragged

canvas

caftan. The children shouted, “Here comes some kind of beggar!”

But their mother said, “No, that’s your father!”

“And how should we treat him?”

“To whatever God has sent!” When Prince Ivan came up, she put
good
clothing on him, 79 and they went to see the tsar. When he got there
Prince

Ivan told his father about his adventure: how he had rescued his
brothers

from the trap, and how they had killed him. His father was so angry
that he

up and disinherited them and made them take up low duties, but he
made

the youngest son his heir.

(Afanas’ev, no. 174)

148

The Three Kingdoms

In a certain kingdom, in a certain state there lived a tsar

named Bel Belyanin; 80 he had a wife, Nastasia Zlatokos, 81

and three sons: Prince Pyotr, Prince Vasilii, and Prince Ivan.

The tsaritsa went out to walk in the garden with her nurses

and nannies. Suddenly a strong whirlwind arose and—oh my

God!—grabbed the tsar’s wife and carried her off, no one knew

to where. The tsar was sorrowful and mournful and he didn’t

know what to do. The tsar’s sons grew up, and he said to them,

“My dear children! Who among you will go to seek and find your
mother?”

The two older sons got together and set out, and after that the
youngest

began to ask his father to go. “No,” said the tsar, “don’t you go away,
my son!

Don’t leave me alone, an old man.”

“Permit me, Dad! I have a terrible desire to go wander through the

white world and to search out my mother.”

The tsar tried and tried, but he couldn’t talk him out of it. “Well, there’s

nothing to be done. Go, and may God be with you!”

Prince Ivan saddled his good horse and set off on his way. He rode
and

rode, for a long time or a short time; quickly may a tale be spun, but
not

so soon a deed is done. He came to a forest. In that forest stood a

very rich
palace. Prince Ivan rode into the broad courtyard; he saw an old man
and

said, “May you be well for many years, old man!”

“Welcome! Who may you be, good lad?”

“I am Prince Ivan, son of tsar Bel Belyanin and tsaritsa Nastasia

Zlatokos.”

“Ah, my own nephew! And where is God taking you?”

“Well, it’s like this and like that,” he said. “I’m traveling to search out
my

mother. Can you not tell me, dear uncle, where to find her?”

“No, nephew, I don’t know. I’ll be of service to you as much as I can.

Here’s a ball for you, toss it in front of you, and it will roll and lead you
to

steep, high mountains. In those mountains there’s a cave. Go inside

it, take

149

The Three Kingdoms

the iron claws, put them on your hands and feet, and climb up on the
moun-

tains. Mayhap you’ll find your mother Nastasia Zlatokos there.”

So very well. Prince Ivan said good-bye to his uncle and let the ball
go
ahead of him. The ball rolled and rolled, while he rode after it, for a
long

time or for a short time, and then he saw his brothers Prince Pyotr
and

Prince Vasilii standing in the open field in a camp, and they had a
multitude

of soldiers with them. The brothers met him, “Bah! Where are you
going,

Prince Ivan?”

“What do you think?” he said. “I got lonely at home and got the idea

of riding out to look for our mother. Send the armies home, and let’s
go

together.”

That’s what they did; they let the army go and rode off all three
together

after the ball. They caught sight of the mountains from far away—so
steep,

so high, that oh my God! their summits pierced the clouds. The ball
rolled

right up to the cave. Prince Ivan dismounted and said to his brothers,
“Here

you are, brothers, take my good horse. I’m going into the mountains
to look

for our mother, and you remain here; wait for me exactly three
months, and
if I’m not back here in three months there’s nothing to wait for!”

The brothers thought, “How can you climb up on these mountains,

you

could crack your head open here!”

“Well,” they said, “go with God, and we’ll wait for you here.”

Prince Ivan went up to the cave. He saw an iron door and pushed it

with all his might, and the door opened. He went inside; the iron
claws put

themselves onto his hands and his feet. He began to make his way
onto the

mountains, climbed and climbed; he labored for a whole month and

barely

made it to the top. “Well,” he said, “God be praised!”

He rested a little bit and then set off through the mountains. He
walked

and walked, walked and walked, and looked: there stood a copper
palace.

At the gates terrible dragons were shackled on copper chains, they

were

just teeming! But a bronze dipper was hanging at the well on a fine
bronze

chain. Prince Ivan took the dipper, dipped some water, and gave a
drink to

the dragons. They calmed down and lay down, and he passed
through into
the palace.

The tsaritsa of the copper kingdom jumped out to meet him: “Who are

you, good lad?”

“I am Prince Ivan.”

“What,” she asked, “by your own will, or have you come here unwill-

ingly, Prince Ivan?”

150

The Three Kingdoms

“By my own will; I’m searching for my mother, Nastasia Zlatokos.

Some Whirlwind snatched her out of our garden. Do you happen to

know

where she is?”

“No, I don’t know; but not far from here lives my middle sister, the

tsaritsa of the silver kingdom; perhaps she will tell you.” She gave him
a

copper ball and a little copper ring. “The ball,” she said, “will lead you
to my

middle sister, and that ring contains the whole copper kingdom. After
you

vanquish the Whirlwind, who keeps me here too and flies to see me
every
three months, then don’t forget poor me. Rescue me from here and
take me

with you to the free world.”

“Very well,” said Prince Ivan. He took the copper ball and threw it.
The

ball rolled off, and the prince set off after it.

He came to the silver kingdom and saw a palace better than the first

one—all made of silver. Frightful dragons were shackled on silver

chains

at the gates, and beside them was a well with a silver dipper. Prince
Ivan

dipped some wine and gave the dragons a drink; they lay down and
let him

into the palace. Out came the tsaritsa of the silver kingdom. “For
almost

three years,” she said, “since the mighty Whirlwind started keeping
me here,

I’ve had neither sight nor sound83 of the Russian spirit, but now the
Russian

spirit takes its place in plain view. Who are you, good lad?”

“I’m Prince Ivan.”

“How did you make your way here—by your own will or under

compulsion?”

“By my own will; I’m searching for my mother. She went out into the
green garden to take a stroll, when a Whirlwind arose and rushed her
off, no

one knows where. Do you happen to know where to find her?”

“No, I don’t know; but not far from here lives my oldest sister, the tsar-

itsa of the golden kingdom, Elena the Beautiful. Perhaps she’ll be

able to tell

you. Here’s a silver ball for you. Roll it ahead of you and follow after
it; it

will lead you to the golden kingdom. But look, when you kill the
Whirlwind,

don’t forget poor me; rescue me from here and take me with you into
the

free world. The Whirlwind keeps me in captivity and flies to see me

every

two months.” Then she gave him a little silver ring. “This ring contains
the

whole silver kingdom!”

Prince Ivan rolled the sphere; wherever the sphere rolled, he would
fol-

low in that direction.

For a long time, or for a short time, he saw a golden palace standing

there; it burned like fire. Frightful dragons teemed at the gates,

shackled on

151
The Three Kingdoms

Artist unknown.

golden chains, but a well stood nearby, and at the well hung a golden
dipper

on a golden chain. Prince Ivan dipped some water and gave the
dragons
a drink; they lay down and got peaceful. The prince went into the
palace;

Elena the Beautiful greeted him, “Who are you, good lad?”

“I’m Prince Ivan.”

“How did you make your way here—by your own will, or under

compulsion?”

“I came of my own will; I’m looking for my mother, Nastasia Zlatokos.

Do you happen to know where to find her?”

“How could I not know! She lives not far from here, and the Whirlwind

flies to see her once a week, but he comes to me once a month.

Here’s a

golden ball for you, roll it ahead of you and follow after it: it will lead
you

where you need to go. And take this little golden ring, too. This little
ring

contains the whole golden kingdom! Look, prince: when you conquer
the

Whirlwind, don’t forget poor me. Take me with you into the free
world.”

“Very well,” he said, “I’ll take you!”

Prince Ivan rolled the sphere and set out after it: he walked and
walked

and came to such a palace that, oh my Lord God! It’s as if it was on

fire with
diamonds and precious gemstones. At the gates, six-headed dragons
hissed;

152

The Three Kingdoms

Prince Ivan gave them a drink, and the dragons calmed down and let
him go

into the palace. The prince passed through large chambers, and in
the very

farthest he found his mother: she was sitting on a high throne,

dressed up in

royal garb, crowned with a precious crown. She took a look at her
guest and

cried out, “Ah, my God! Is it you, my darling son? How did you get
here?”

“Like this and like that,” he said. “I’ve come to get you.”

“Well, my son! It won’t be easy for you. For a cruel, mighty Whirlwind

rules here in the mountains, and all the spirits are subject to him; he’s
the

one who carried me away. You must fight with him! Let’s go to the
cellar

right now.”

So they went down to the cellar. There stood two tubs with water, one
on the right hand, the other on the left. Tsaritsa Nastasia Zlatokos
said,

“Drink some of the water that stands on the right.”

Prince Ivan drank some.

“So, well, how much strength is in you?”

“Why, I’m so strong that I could turn the whole palace over with one
hand.”

“Ah then, drink some more.”

Prince Ivan drank up some more.

“How much strength is in you now?”

“Now if I wanted to I could turn the whole world over.”

“Oh, that’s already a great deal! 84 Switch these tubs into each
other’s

places: move the one on the right to the left side, and move the one
on the

left to the right.”

Prince Ivan took the tubs and switched their places.

“Do you see there, my dear son: one tub has strengthening water,
and the

other has weakening water. Whoever drinks from the first will be a
strong

and powerful bogatyr, but whoever drinks from the second will lose all
his
strength. The Whirlwind always drinks the strong water and keeps it
on the

right side; so we have to fool him, or else there’s no way to handle

him!”

They went back into the palace. “Soon the Whirlwind will come
flying,”

said the tsaritsa to Prince Ivan. “Sit here under my purple robes, so
he won’t

see you. But when the Whirlwind flies up and rushes to hug and kiss
me,

then you grab his cudgel. He’ll fly up high-high; he’ll carry you over
seas

and over abysses. You watch out, don’t let go of the cudgel. The
Whirlwind

will get tired, he’ll want to drink some of the strengthening water, he’ll
go

down into the cellar and throw himself on the tub on the right side; but

you drink from the tub on the left side. Then he’ll lose all his strength.
You

take away his sword and cut off his head with one stroke. Once you
cut his

head off, voices behind you will shout, ‘Cut again! Cut again!’ But
you, my

153
The Three Kingdoms

son, don’t cut, instead say: ‘The hand of a bogatyr doesn’t strike
twice, but

all the first time!’”

No sooner had Prince Ivan managed to hide under the purple robe
than

suddenly it got dark in the yard, and everything around began to

shake. The

Whirlwind had come flying up; he struck the ground, turned into a
goodly

young man, and walked into the palace. In his hands he had a
cudgel.

“Fie-fie-fie! What is it here that smells of Russian spirit? Has

someone

been visiting?”

The tsaritsa answered, “I don’t know why it seems that way to you.”

The Whirlwind rushed to hug and kiss her, but Prince Ivan went

straight for the cudgel. “I’ll eat you up!” the Whirlwind shouted at him.

“Well, maybe you will and maybe you won’t:85 either you’ll eat me or

else you won’t!”

The Whirlwind leapt up—through the window and up into the skies;

he carried Prince Ivan farther and farther. Over the mountains, he

said, “Do
you want me to crush you?” And over the seas, he threatened, “Do
you want

me to drown you?” But no, the prince didn’t let go of the cudgel.

The Whirlwind flew through85 the whole world, got tired out, and be-

gan to fly lower. He went down right into the cellar, ran over to the tub

that was standing on the right, and started to drink the weakening
water,

while Prince Ivan went to the left, drank his fill of strengthening water,
and

became the most powerful bogatyr in the world. He saw that the
Whirlwind

had lost all his strength, snatched his sharp sword away, and cut off
his head

with one blow. Voices started to shout behind him, “Strike again!
Strike

again! Or else he’ll come back to life.”

“No,” answered the prince, “the hand of a bogatyr doesn’t strike twice,

but finishes everything the first time!”

Then right away he made a fire, burned both the body and the head,
and

scattered the ashes in the wind. 86

Prince Ivan’s mother was so glad! “Well,” she said, “my darling son!
Let’s
celebrate, let’s have something to eat, and then can we go right
home; it is

boring here, there are no people.”

“But who serves you here?

“You’ll see.”

The moment they thought about eating something, right away the
table

set itself: various dishes and wines appeared by themselves on the

table. The

tsaritsa and the prince ate, and invisible music played wonderful
songs for

them. They ate and drank their fill, and they rested; then Prince Ivan
said,

“Let’s go, Mother; it’s time! For my brothers are waiting for us below
the

154
The Three Kingdoms

The Dream World of

Aleksandr Pushkin by the

Palekh miniaturist Fedor

Kritov. Observing the con-

ventions of narrative icons,

this lacquer box places its

“sacred subject”—Rus-

sia’s premier poet, Pushkin

(1799–1837)—at the center,

framed by illustrations of
the various folkloric works

he penned. These included

fairy tales in verse, short

lyrics, and mock epic po-

ems that drew on popular

lore and inspired graphic

artists, filmmakers, and

composers. The relegation

of Baba Yaga to the upper

right corner of the visual is

mountains, and on our way I have to rescue the three tsaritsas who
were doubtless motivated by her living here with the Whirlwind.”

absence from Pushkin’s

cast of magical characters

They took everything they needed and set out on their way. First they
apart from a brief mention

stopped by for the tsaritsa of the golden kingdom, then for the tsaritsa
of in his narrative poem the silver kingdom, and then for the tsaritsa
of the copper kingdom. They “Ruslan and Ludmila”

(1820). Artist: Fedor Kritov,

took them along, grabbed some canvas and all kinds of things, and in
a short from the village of Palekh, time they came to the place where
they had to go down from the moun- http://catalog.instaplanet
tains. Prince Ivan used the canvas to lower first his mother, then
Elena the .com/PALEKH_Russian_

Beautiful and her two sisters. The brothers were standing down
below, wait- Lacquer_Pushkin.html.

ing, but they thought to themselves, “Let’s leave Prince Ivan up

above, and

we’ll take Mother and the tsaritsas to our father and tell him that we’re
the

ones who found them.”

“I’ll take Elena the Beautiful for myself,” said Prince Pyotr. “You take
the

tsaritsa of the silver kingdom, Vasilii, and perhaps we’ll leave the
tsaritsa of

the copper kingdom for a general.”

So when it was time for Prince Ivan to come down from the
mountains,

his older brothers grabbed the canvas, pulled on it, and tore it off
com-

pletely. Prince Ivan was left behind in the mountains. What could he
do?

He started to cry bitterly and headed back; he walked and walked

through

the copper kingdom, and through the silver kingdom, and through the
gold

kingdom—there wasn’t a soul! Well, what could he do alone? Deadly

bore-
dom! He looked, and he saw a whistle lying on one window.87

The moment he whistled, a lame man and a crooked man jumped

out.

“What is your will, Prince Ivan?”

155

The Three Kingdoms

“I want to eat.”

Right away from who knows where a table was set, and on the table
both

wines and dishes of the very first sort. Prince Ivan ate and thought,
“Now it

wouldn’t be a bad thing to have a rest.”

He whistled into the whistle, and the lame man and the crooked man

appeared. “What is your will, Prince Ivan?”

“For a bed to be prepared.” Before he finished speaking, a bed was

spread—nothing could be better.

So he lay down, slept wonderfully, and then once again blew into his

whistle. “What is your will?” the lame man and the crooked man
asked him.

“So, could it be that you can do anything?” asked the prince.

“We can do anything, Prince Ivan! Whoever blows into this whistle,
we’ll

do everything for him. Just as we served the Whirlwind before, now

we’re

happy to serve you; all you need to do is keep this whistle always
with you.”

“Very well,” said Prince Ivan, “I want to be in my own kingdom now!”

He

had only just said it, and that moment he found himself in his own
kingdom

in the middle of a market. He was walking along through the bazaar,

and

a shoemaker came toward him, such a merry man! The prince asked
him,

“Where are you going, my man?”

“I’m taking slippers88 to sell; I’m a shoemaker.”

“Take me as your apprentice.”

“And do you really know how to sew slippers?”

“Yes, I can do anything you like; not just slippers, I can sew clothes.”

“Well, then, let’s go!”

They came home, and the shoemaker said, “So then, make
something!

Here’s some first-class material; I’ll take a look to see what you can
do.”
Prince Ivan went into his room, pulled out his pipe, and whistled—

and the lame man and the crooked man appeared. “What is your will,

Prince Ivan?”

“To have a pair of slippers ready by breakfast.”

“Oh, that’s a little task, not a real task!”

“Here’s the material.”

“What kind of material is that? Trash—that’s all! We should throw it

out

the window.” The next morning when the prince woke up a pair of
magnifi-

cent slippers, the finest, stood on the table.

The master got up as well: “So, young man, have you sewed the
slippers?”

“They’re ready.”

“Well then, show me!”

156

The Three Kingdoms

The shoemaker took a look and gasped. “See what a master-

craftsman

I’ve found for myself! Not a master, but a miracle!” He took those
slippers
and went to the market to sell them.

At that very time there were three weddings at the tsar’s palace:

Prince Pyotr was preparing to marry Elena the Beautiful, Prince Vasilii

to marry the tsaritsa of the silver kingdom, and they were marrying
the

tsaritsa of the copper kingdom to a general. They began to buy up

fancy

clothes for the wedding; Elena the Beautiful needed a pair of slippers.

Our shoemaker turned out to have the best slippers of all; they
brought

him into the palace.

Elena the Beautiful took one look. “What’s that,” she said to herself,

“they know how to make slippers like that only in the mountains.” She
paid

the shoemaker well and ordered, “Make me another pair of slippers

with-

out measuring, and let them be marvelously embroidered, decorated

and set

with precious gems, diamonds. And let them be ready tomorrow by

break-

fast, or else—to the gallows!”

The shoemaker took the money and the precious stones, and he
went
home so gloomy! “Oh woe,” he said. “What can I do now? How could
I sew

slippers like that by tomorrow, and what’s more without measuring?

It’s

clear they’re going to hang me tomorrow! Let me at least have some

fun

with my friends first, to ease my grief.”

He stopped into a tavern. He had many friends there, and they all
asked

him, “What are you so gloomy for, brother?”

“Ah, my dear friends, tomorrow they’re going to hang me!”

“For what?”

The shoemaker told them about his misfortune. “How can I think
about

work like that? Better just to enjoy this last evening.”

So they drank and drank, reveled and reveled, and the shoemaker
was

already staggering. “Well,” he said, “I’ll take a cask of wine home and
go to

bed. And tomorrow, when they come for me to hang me, I’ll drink half
a

bucket at once; let them hang me unconscious.”

He came home. “Well, damn you!” he said to Prince Ivan, “Here’s

what
your slippers have done, it’s like this and like that . . . in the morning,
when

they come for me, wake me up at once.”

That night Prince Ivan pulled out his whistle, blew into it, and the lame

and crooked men appeared: “What is your will, Prince Ivan?”

“To have this sort of slippers made.”

“We hear and obey!”

157

The Three Kingdoms

Prince Ivan lay down to sleep; in the morning when he woke up the

slippers were standing there on the table, burning like fire. He went in
and

woke his host. “Master! Time to get up!”

“What, have they come for me? Give me the cask of wine right away,

there’s a mug, pour some; let them hang me drunk.”

“But the slippers are ready.”

“Ready how? Where are they?” The master ran in and looked. “Ah,
when

did you and I make those?”

“Why, last night; can it be, master, that you don’t remember how we
cut
and sewed?”

“I overslept entirely, brother; I barely-barely remember!”

He took the slippers, wrapped them up, and ran to the palace. Elena
the

Beautiful saw the slippers and guessed, “It must be the spirits who
made

them for Prince Ivan.”

“How did you do this?” she asked the shoemaker.

“Well,” he said, “I can do anything!”

“If that’s so, then make me a wedding gown, and let it be

embroidered in

gold, set with diamonds and precious stones. And let it be ready
tomorrow,

or else—off with your head!”

The shoemaker again walked along, all gloomy, but his friends had
been

waiting for him for a long time. “So, what happened?”

“Well, what,” he said. “A damned mess! A leader of the Christian

people

has appeared; she ordered me to sew her a wedding dress by

tomorrow, with

gold and precious stones. But what kind of tailor am I!? Tomorrow
they’ll

take my head off for sure.”

“Eh, brother! Morning’s wiser than the evening: let’s go and have a
party.”

They set out for the tavern, drank and reveled. The shoemaker
slurped

up his fill again, dragged a whole cask of wine home, and said to
Prince Ivan,

“Well, laddie! When you wake me up tomorrow, I’ll snort a whole

bucket;

let them cut off my head when I’m drunk! But I couldn’t make a gown
like

that in all my life.”

The master lay down to sleep, while Prince Ivan blew into his pipe,
and

the lame and the crooked men appeared. “What is your will, Prince?”

“Let a gown be ready by tomorrow—just the sort Elena the Beautiful

wore when she was with the Whirlwind.”

“We hear you and obey! It will be ready.”

As soon as it was light Prince Ivan woke up, and the gown lay on the
ta-

ble, burning like fire; it lit up the whole room. He went to wake the
master.

158

The Three Kingdoms

He opened his eyes: “What, have they come for me, to cut off my
head?

Give me the wine right now!”

“But the gown’s ready . . .”

“Oh really! When did we manage to sew it?”

“Why at night. Do you really not remember? You did the cutting
yourself.”

“Ah, brother, I remember just a little bit; it’s as if I see it in a dream.”

The

shoemaker took the gown and ran to the palace.

Then Elena the Beautiful gave him a lot of money and ordered, “See
to

it that tomorrow by dawn, seven miles from here toward the sea, a
golden

kingdom be standing, and that a golden bridge be made from it to our

pal-

ace. The bridge must be spread with costly velvet, and marvelous
trees must

be growing around the railings on both sides and songbirds singing in

vari-

ous voices. If you don’t have this done by tomorrow, I’ll order you
drawn

and quartered!”

The shoemaker left Elena the Beautiful and hung his head. His
friends
met him. “What is it, brother?”

“Here’s what! I’m ruined; tomorrow they’re going to draw and quarter

me. She ordered such a task that no devil could do it.”

“Eh, that’s enough! Morning’s wiser than the evening; let’s go to the

tavern.”

“Yes, let’s go! I should at least enjoy myself a bit in the end.”

So they drank and drank; by evening the shoemaker was so drunk

that

they had to hold him up as he walked home. “Farewell, laddie!” he

said to

Prince Ivan. “Tomorrow they’re executing me.”

“So is there some new task assigned?”

“Yes, and such and such a task!”

He lay down and started to snore; but Prince Ivan went right into his

room, blew in the whistle, and the lame man and the crooked man
appeared.

“What is your will, Prince Ivan?”

“Can you do such and such a task for me?”

“Yes, Prince Ivan, that is a task indeed! Well, but there’s nothing to be

done—it will all be ready by morning.”

The next morning the moment it started to get light Prince Ivan woke
up, looked out the window—and holy godfathers! everything was
done in

that very way: a golden palace was burning just like fire. He woke the
master.

He jumped up. “What? Have they come for me? Give me some wine

right away! Let them execute me when I’m drunk.”

“But the palace is ready.”

159

The Three Kingdoms

“What are you saying!” The shoemaker glanced out the window and

gasped with surprise. “How was that done?”

“Do you really not remember how you and I put it together?”

“Ah, I must have overslept, I remember just a little bit!”

They ran to the golden palace, and it was full of unseen and unheard-
of

richness. Prince Ivan said, “Here, master, is a bird’s wing for you. Go,
dust

off the railings of the bridge, and when they come to ask who is it that
lives

in the palace, don’t you say anything, just hand over this note.”

Very well, the shoemaker went and started to dust off the railings of
the
bridge. In the morning Elena the Beautiful woke up, saw the golden
palace,

and ran straight to the tsar. “Look, your highness, what has happened
here!

Someone has built a golden palace near the sea; a bridge seven
miles long

leads to it, and around the bridge marvelous trees are growing, and
song-

birds singing in various voices.”

The tsar sent at once to ask, “What could this mean? Has some
bogatyr

come into my kingdom?”

The emissaries came to the shoemaker, and they started to ask him

questions. He said, “I don’t know, but I have a note for your tsar.” In
that

note Prince Ivan told his father everything as it had happened: how
he res-

cued his mother and won Elena the Beautiful, and how his older
brothers

had deceived him. Along with the note Prince Ivan sent a golden
carriage

and asked the tsar and tsaritsa to come to him, with Elena the
Beautiful

and her sisters; but he asked them to let his brothers be brought
behind in
simple peasant sledges.

Everyone immediately got ready and set out. Prince Ivan met them
with

joy. The tsar wanted to punish his older sons for their lie, but Prince
Ivan

interceded with his father, and they were forgiven. Then there was a
great

feast; Prince Ivan married Elena the Beautiful, Prince Pyotr married
the

tsaritsa of the silver kingdom, Prince Vasilii married the tsaritsa of the
cop-

per kingdom, and the shoemaker was promoted to general. I was at

that

feast too; I drank mead and beer, and it ran down my mustache but
didn’t

go into my mouth.

(Afanas’ev, no. 129)

160
The Three Kingdoms—Copper,

Silver, and Gold

Once upon a time there happened to live an old

man and an old woman who had three sons. The

first was Egorushko Zalët, 89 the second Misha

Kosolapoy, 90 and the third was Ivan Zapechnik. 91

The father and mother decided to marry them

off, and they sent the oldest son to find a bride.

He walked and walked for a long time. No matter

where he took a look at the girls, he couldn’t find a

bride for himself; none of them caught his eye.

Then on the road he met a dragon with three heads. He was

frightened,

but the dragon said to him, “Where are you headed, good man?”
Egorushko said, “I’ve set out to find a wife, but I can’t find myself a
bride.”

The dragon said, “Come with me. I’ll show you how to find a bride.”

So they walked and walked, and they came up to a big boulder. The

dragon said, “Move the stone. Whatever you want, you’ll get it there.”

Egorushko tried to move the stone, but he couldn’t do anything. The

dragon said to him, “So, no bride for you!” And Egorushko went back
home

and told his father and mother about everything.

His father and mother thought and thought again, what to do and how

to live, and they sent their middle son, Misha Kosolapoy. The very
same

thing happened with him. Then the old man and woman thought and

thought, and they didn’t know what to do. If they sent Ivashko92
Zapechnik,

he wouldn’t be able to do anything!

But Ivashko Zapechnik himself started asking to go and have a look

at

the dragon. At first his father and mother wouldn’t let him go, but then
they

let him. Ivashko too walked and walked, and he met the dragon with
three

heads. The dragon asked him, “Where are you headed, good man?”

He said, “My brothers wanted to get married, but they couldn’t find
brides. Now my turn has come.”

“If you please, let’s go, and I’ll show you if you’ll be able to get a
bride.”

161

The Three Kingdoms—Copper, Silver, and Gold

So the dragon set out with Ivashko. They came to the same boulder,
and

the dragon ordered him to move it from its place. Ivashko seized it,
and it

was as if there was no boulder: it flew away. Underneath it there was

a hole

in the ground with straps fastened beside it.

Then the dragon said, “Ivashko! Sit down on the straps, I’ll lower you.

There you’ll come to three kingdoms, and in each kingdom you’ll see
a

maiden.”

Ivashko went down and set off walking. He walked and walked, and

he came to the copper kingdom. He dropped in there and saw a

maiden

who was splendidly beautiful. The maiden said, “Welcome, unknown

guest!

Come here and sit down wherever you see an empty place. Tell me,
where
are you coming from and where are you going?”

“Ah, lovely maiden!” said Ivashko, “you haven’t fed me, you haven’t
given

me a drink, but you’ve started to ask for news.”

Then the maiden brought together all kinds of food and drink on the

table. Ivashko ate and drank and began to tell her how he was
traveling to

find himself a bride. “If you’ll be so kind, I’ll ask you to marry me.”

“No, good man,” said the maiden. “You keep on going. You’ll come to
the

silver kingdom, and there’s a maiden there even more beautiful than I
am!”

And she gave him a silver ring.

So the good young man thanked the maiden for her bread and salt,93

said good-bye and set off. He walked and walked, and he came to
the silver

kingdom. He dropped in there and saw a maiden sitting who was

even more

beautiful than the first one. He said a prayer to God and bowed down
to the

ground. “Hi there, fair maiden!”

She answered, “Welcome, traveler! Sit down and boast: whose are
you,

where do you come from, and what task has brought you this way?”
“Ah, fair maiden!” said Ivashko. “You haven’t given me a drink, you

haven’t fed me, but you’ve started to ask for news.”

So the maiden got the table together, brought all kinds of food and

drink. Then Ivan94 took a drink and ate a bit, as much as he wanted,
and he

began to tell the story of how he’d set off to seek a bride. Then he
asked her

to marry him.

“Keep going,” she said. “The golden kingdom’s still there ahead, and
in

that kingdom there’s a maiden even more beautiful than I am.” And
she gave

him a golden ring.

Ivashko said good-bye and sent off again. He walked and walked
until

he came to the golden kingdom, dropped in, and saw a maiden more
beauti-

ful than anyone else. So he said a prayer to God and greeted the
maiden

162

The Three Kingdoms—Copper, Silver, and Gold

in the proper manner. The maiden began to ask him where he came
from
and where he was going. “Ah, fair maiden!” he said. “You haven’t
given me a

drink, haven’t fed me, but you’ve started asking for news.”

So she put all kinds of food and drink on the table, and you couldn’t

have asked for anything better. Ivashko Zapechnik had some of

everything

and then told her, “I’m traveling, looking for a bride. If you would like
to

marry me, then come along with me.”

The maiden agreed and gave him a golden ball, and they set off
togeth-

er. They walked and walked, and they came to the silver kingdom.
Here

they took the silver maiden along with them. They walked and walked

some more; they came to the copper kingdom, and here too they took
the

maiden along. They all came to the hole they would have to climb out
of,

and the straps were hanging there. Meanwhile, the older brothers
were

already standing beside the hole: they were about to climb down and
look

for Ivashko.

So Ivashko set the maiden from the copper kingdom on the straps
and
shook one of the straps. His brothers pulled and lifted the maiden out,
and

they lowered the straps again. Ivashko set the maiden from the silver
king-

dom on them, and they pulled her out, too, and let the straps back
down.

Then he set the maiden from the golden kingdom, and they pulled
that one

out, and they let the straps down. Then Ivashko sat on them himself.
His

brothers started to lift him, too, pulled and pulled, but when they saw
that

it was Ivashko, they thought, “Maybe if we pull him out he won’t give
us any

of the maidens!” So they cut the straps, and Ivashko fell back down.

There was nothing he could do; he cried a bit, he cried, and then he

started walking straight ahead. He walked and walked, and he saw

an old

man sitting on a stump, short as a quart but with a beard to his elbow.
He

told the old man about everything that had happened to him and how.
The

old man told him to go along farther. “You’ll come to a little house. In
the

house lies a long man from one corner to the other, and you can ask
him
how to get back out to Rus’.”

So Ivashko walked and walked, and he came to the little house. He

dropped in and said, “Powerful Idol! Don’t destroy me, but tell me how
I

can make my way to Rus’.”

“Fie, fie!” spoke up the Idol. “No one knew of the Russian bone, but it

came here by itself. Well, set off and cross over thirty lakes. There’s a
little

house there standing on a chicken leg, and in that house lives

Yega95 Baba.

She has an eagle-bird, and it will carry you out.”

163

The Three Kingdoms—Copper, Silver, and Gold

So the good lad walked and walked, and he came to the little house.
He

stopped into the little house, and the Yega Baba started shouting,
“Fie, fie, fie!

Russian bone, why has it come here?”

Then Ivashko said, “Here’s why, granny. The powerful Idol told me to

come and ask you for a mighty eagle-bird, so it could carry me out to
Rus’.”
“You go along into the garden,” said the Yega Baba. “There’s a guard
stand-

ing beside the doors, and you take the keys from him and go through
seven

doors. When you open the last door, then the eagle will start to beat
its wings,

and if you aren’t frightened, you climb up on it and fly. Only take some
beef

with you, and every time it starts to look back you give it a piece of
meat.”

Ivashko did everything as the Yega Baba ordered. He climbed up on

the eagle and flew off. He flew and flew; the eagle looked back, and
Ivashko

gave it a piece of meat. He flew and flew, and he often gave the eagle
meat.

He had already fed it everything he had, but there was still a ways to
fly. The

eagle looked back, but there was no meat, so the eagle snatched a
piece of

flesh out of Ivashko’s shoulders. It ate the flesh and hauled him out of
that

same hole into Rus’.

When Ivashko got down off the eagle, the eagle spat out the piece of

flesh and told him to press it against his shoulder. Ivashko pressed it
there,
and the piece grew back.

Ivashko came home, took the maiden from the golden kingdom from

his brothers, and they began to live and exist, and they’re still living. I
was

there, and I drank beer. That beer dripped down my mustache, but it
didn’t

get into my mouth.

(Afanas’ev, no. 128)

164

The Tsar-Maiden

In a certain kingdom, in a certain state, there was once a mer-

chant. His wife had died, and he had only one son, Ivan. He

found his son a tutor, and after a certain time he himself mar-
ried another wife. Since Ivan the merchant’s son was already

full grown and awfully good-looking, his stepmother fell in

love with him.

Once Ivan the merchant’s son and his tutor set off to sea

on a little raft to fish. Suddenly they saw thirty ships sailing

toward them. The Tsar-Maiden was on one of those ships with thirty
other

maidens, her foster sisters. When the ships reached the little raft, all
thirty

ships dropped anchor. They invited Ivan the merchant’s son and his
tutor

onto the very best ship. There the Tsar-Maiden and the thirty
maidens,

her foster sisters, met them, and she told Ivan the merchant’s son
that she’d

fallen deeply in love with him and had come to meet him. They
exchanged

rings on the spot and got engaged to be married.

The Tsar-Maiden told Ivan the merchant’s son to come to the same
place

tomorrow at the same time. Then she said good-bye to him and
sailed away.

Meanwhile, Ivan the merchant’s son returned home, ate dinner, and
lay
down to sleep. The stepmother led his tutor into her room, plied him
with

drink, and started to ask him questions. Had anything happened while
they

were out fishing? The tutor told her everything.

She heard him out, gave him a pin, and said, “Tomorrow, when the
ships

start to sail close to you, stick this pin into Ivan the merchant’s son’s
clothes.”

The tutor promised he would do what she ordered.

In the morning, Ivan the merchant’s son got up and set off to go
fishing.

As soon as the tutor spied the ships in the distance, he up and stuck
the pin

into Ivan’s clothes.

“Ah, I’m so sleepy!” said the merchant’s son. “Listen, uncle, I’ll lie
down

and sleep a bit, but when the ships get close, then please wake me
up.”

“All right! Why wouldn’t I wake you?”

165

The Tsar-Maiden
Then the ships sailed up and dropped anchor. The Tsar-Maiden sent
for

Ivan the merchant’s son and told him to come to her at once, but he
was sleep-

ing soundly-soundly. They tried to wake him, to disturb him, to jostle

him,

but no matter what they did they couldn’t wake him, so they left him
there.

The Tsar-Maiden told the tutor to have Ivan the merchant’s son come

again the next day, then she ordered the anchors raised and sails
hoisted.

The moment the ships sailed away, the tutor yanked out the pin, and

Ivan the merchant’s son woke up, jumped up, and started to shout for
the

Tsar-Maiden to come back. No! She was already far away and didn’t
hear

him. He went home sadly, full of grief.

The stepmother took the tutor into her room, got him drunk, asked

him about everything that had happened, and ordered him to stick in
the

pin again the next day. The next day Ivan the merchant’s son set off
to fish;

once again he slept the whole time, and he didn’t see the Tsar-
Maiden. She

gave an order that he should be there one more time.

On the third day he and the tutor got ready to go fishing. They sailed

up to the same place and saw the ships sailing from far away. Right
away the

tutor stuck in the pin, and Ivan the merchant’s son fell sound asleep.

The ships sailed close and dropped anchor, and the Tsar-Maiden sent

for her betrothed to come and see her on her ship. They started trying
to

wake him in every possible way, but no matter what they did they
couldn’t

wake him up. The Tsar-Maiden understood the stepmother’s wiles

and the

tutor’s betrayal, and she wrote to Ivan the merchant’s son that he
must cut

off the tutor’s head. And if he loved his betrothed he must seek her
beyond

thrice-nine lands, in the thrice-tenth kingdom.

No sooner had the ships spread their sails and sailed off into the
open

sea than the tutor yanked the little pin out of Ivan the merchant’s
son’s

clothes. He woke up and began to shout loudly and call to the Tsar-
Maiden.

But she was far away and didn’t hear anything!

The tutor handed him the letter from the Tsar-Maiden. Ivan the mer-
chant’s son read it, snatched out his sharp saber, and cut off the evil
tutor’s

head. He himself quickly made for shore, went home, said good-bye
to his

father, and set off to look for the thrice-tenth kingdom.

He walked wherever his eyes led him, for a long time, for a short
time:

quickly may a tale be spun, but not so soon a deed is done. He came
to a lit-

tle house. The little house stood in an open field, turning around on
chicken

legs. He went into the little house, and there was a Baba Yaga, bony
leg. “Fie,

fie!” she said. “There was no sight or sound here of the Russian spirit,
but

now it’s come by itself. By will or by compulsion, fine young man?”

166
The Tsar-Maiden

The Firebird and Other Rus-

sian Fairy Tales, edited by

Jacqueline Onassis, illustra-

tions by Boris Zvorykin. Of

the volume’s four tales, only

“Maria Morevna” and “Vasil-

isa the Beautiful” (here,

the Fair) feature Baba Yaga.

Zvorykin’s luxurious visuals

compensate for the book’s

slimness, their sumptuous

colors and jeweled textures

making for a stunning Russ-

Wonderland. The Firebird

and Other Russian Fairy Tales,

edited by Jacqueline Onas-

sis, illustrations by Boris

Zvorykin. Publisher: Studio,

1978.

“As much by will, but twice as much by compulsion! Do you happen

to

know, Baba Yaga, the thrice-tenth kingdom?”

“No, I don’t!” said the yaga woman. 96 And she told him to go see her

middle sister; perhaps that one would know.

Ivan the merchant’s son thanked her and set off. He walked and
walked,

near or far, long or short, and he came to a little house of the same
kind. He

went into it, and there was a Baba Yaga. “Fie-fie!” she said, “There
was no

sight or sound of the Russian spirit here, but now it’s come by itself.
By free

will or by compulsion, fine young man?”

“So much by free will, but twice as much by compulsion! Do you hap-

pen to know where the thrice-tenth kingdom is?”

“No, I don’t!” answered the yaga woman, and she ordered him to go
see

her younger sister. Perhaps that one would know. “If she gets angry
at you

and wants to eat you, take three horns from her and ask to play on
them.

Play the first horn not too loudly, the second one louder, and the third
one

even louder.”

167

The Tsar-Maiden

Ivan the merchant’s son thanked the yaga woman and went on.
He walked and walked, for a long time, for a short time, near or far.
He

finally saw the little house; it stood in an open field, spinning around
on

chicken shins. He went inside and there was a Baba Yaga. “Fie-fie!
There

was no sight or sound of the Russian smell here, but now it’s come
by itself!”

said the yaga woman, and she ran to sharpen her teeth so she could
eat up

her uninvited guest.

Ivan the merchant’s son asked her to give him the three horns. He
played

softly on the first one, louder on the second, and on the third even
louder.

Suddenly all kinds of birds flew in from all directions.

A Firebird came, too. “Climb up on me as quickly as you can,” said

the

Firebird, “and we’ll fly wherever you need to go. Otherwise, the Baba
Yaga

will eat you up!”

He just barely managed to climb up in time. Baba Yaga came

running,

grabbed the Firebird by the tail, and yanked out more than a few
feathers.
The Firebird flew off with Ivan the merchant’s son. For a long time

it soared along through the sky, and finally it landed beside the wide
sea.

“Well, Ivan the merchant’s son! The thrice-tenth kingdom lies over this
sea.

I don’t have the strength to carry you over to the other side. Make
your way

across however you can!”

Ivan the merchant’s son slid off the Firebird, thanked it, and started

walking along the shore.

He walked and walked. There stood a little house, and he went inside

it. An old, old woman met him. She gave him food and drink and
started to

ask him where he was going, why he was wandering.

He told her that he was going to the thrice-tenth kingdom, searching

for the Tsar-Maiden, his intended.

“Ah!” said the old woman. “She’s already fallen out of love with you. If

she sets eyes on you, the Tsar-Maiden will tear you apart. Her love’s
hidden

far away!”

“How can I get hold of it?”

“Wait a bit! My daughter lives with the Tsar-Maiden, and she promised

to come see me for a while today. Perhaps she can find out for us.”
Then the old woman turned Ivan the merchant’s son into a pin and

stuck it into the wall. In the evening her daughter flew in. The mother
asked

her: Did she happen to know where the Tsar-Maiden’s love was
hidden?

“I don’t know,” the daughter replied. She promised to find out that
very

thing from the Tsar-Maiden herself. The next day she came flying
again and

168

The Tsar-Maiden

said to her mother, “On the other side of the ocean-sea there stands
an oak

tree. In the oak tree is a chest, in the chest a hare, in the hare a duck,
in the

duck an egg, and in that egg is the Tsar-Maiden’s love!”

Ivan the merchant’s son took some bread and set off for the place
she

had described. He found the oak tree, took down the chest down,
pulled the

hare out of it, the duck out of the hare, and the egg out of the duck,
and he

brought the little egg back to the old woman. Soon it was the old
woman’s
name day. 97 She invited the Tsar-Maiden and the thirty other
maidens, her

foster sisters, as name-day guests. She baked the egg, and she
dressed up

Ivan the merchant’s son in good clothes and hid him.

At midday the Tsar-Maiden and the thirty other maidens flew in all at

once, sat down at the table, and began to eat lunch.

After the meal the old woman served each of them an ordinary egg.

But she gave the Tsar-Maiden the very egg that Ivan the merchant’s
son had

found. The Tsar-Maiden ate the egg, and that moment she fell
deeply-deep-

ly in love with Ivan the merchant’s son. The old woman brought him
out.

How many joys there were, what merriment! The Tsar-Maiden left to-

gether with her intended, the merchant’s son, for her kingdom. They
were

married and began to live and thrive and store up riches.

(Afanas’ev, no. 232)

169
Vasilisa the Beautiful

Once upon a time, in a certain kingdom, there lived

a merchant. He lived with his wife for twelve years

and had only one daughter, Vasilisa the Beautiful.

The girl was eight years old when her mother

died. As she was dying, the merchant’s wife called

her daughter to her, pulled a doll out from under

the blanket, gave it to her, and said, “Listen, my dear

Vasilisa! Remember and carry out my final words.

I’m dying, and along with my parental blessing I leave you this doll
here.

Always keep her with you and don’t show her to anyone; if ever some
grief

happens to you, give her something to eat and ask her advice. She
will eat
and tell you what to do to help in your misfortune.” Then the mother
kissed

her daughter and died.

After his wife’s death the merchant grieved for a while, as is proper,
and

then he started to think about getting married again. He was a good

man,

and there were plenty of potential brides, but the one who pleased
him most

was a widow. She was already a certain age and had two daughters
of her

own, almost the same age as Vasilisa. He thought she must be an

experi-

enced housewife and mother.

The merchant married the widow, but he was disappointed in her and

didn’t gain a mother for his Vasilisa. Vasilisa was the prettiest girl in
the

village. Her stepmother and stepsisters envied her beauty and

tormented

her with all kinds of work, hoping she would get thin from the work
and

her skin would darken from the wind and sun. She had no kind of life
at all!

Vasilisa bore it all without complaining. Every day she grew more
plump and beautiful, while her stepmother and her daughters got
skinnier

and uglier from spite, even though they sat with their hands folded,
like

aristocratic young ladies.

And how could this be? Well, Vasilisa’s little doll helped her. How
could

the girl have handled all the work without that!? But often Vasilisa
herself

would have nothing to eat; she would save the tastiest morsel for her
doll.

170
Vasilisa the Beautiful
Vasilisa and her Mother,

detail by Forest Rogers.

http://www.forestrogers

.com/.

In the evening, once everyone had gone to bed, she would shut
herself in the

store-room where she lived and give the doll something to eat,
saying, “Here,

dolly, have a bite to eat, listen to my grief! I live in my father’s house,

but I

see no joy. My evil stepmother is trying to drive me off the surface of

the

earth. Tell me, how should I act and live and what should I do?”

The dolly would have a bite and then give her advice and comfort in

her grief, and in the morning she would do all kinds of work for
Vasilisa.

Vasilisa would just relax in the shade and pick flowers, while her rows
of

vegetables were already weeded, and the cabbage watered, and the
water

171
Vasilisa the Beautiful

A vivid lacquer box illustrat-

ing Vasilisa the Beautiful by

the Mstera artist Anatolii

Shirokov. It portrays not only

Vasilisa, but also Baba Yaga,

all three riders who serve

her, as well as the famous

hut and the forest creatures

who do her bidding or aid

protagonists as their magic

helpers. Artist: Anatolii

Shirokov, from the village

of Mstera, http://www.rus

sianlacquerart.com/gallery/

Mstera/0050/002741.

carried, and the stove heated. The little doll also showed Vasilisa
what herbs

to use against sunburn. She had a good life with her doll.

Several years passed. Vasilisa grew up and was old enough to marry.

All the young bachelors in the city had an eye on Vasilisa, but no one
even

looked at her stepmother’s daughters. The stepmother grew even

more

spiteful and said to all the suitors, “I won’t let the younger one marry
before

the older ones do!” After she saw the suitors out the door, she took
out her

angry feelings by beating Vasilisa.

One day the merchant had to leave on a long trip for business. The
step-

mother moved to another house, and that house stood next to a

deep, dark
forest. In a glade in the forest stood a little house, and a Baba Yaga
lived in

that little house. She didn’t let anyone come near, and she ate people
as if

they were chickens. After they moved to the new place, the
merchant’s wife

kept sending Vasilisa, who was so hateful to her, into the woods on
some

errand or other, but Vasilisa always came home safely. The little doll
showed

her the way and didn’t let her get close to the Baba Yaga’s house.

Autumn came. The stepmother gave all three girls evening tasks. She

made one of them tat lace, the second one knit stockings, and
Vasilisa spin,

and she set them all to their lessons. She put out every light in the
whole

house, leaving only one candle where the girls were working, and she
herself

went to bed.

172
Vasilisa the Beautiful

The White Horseman by

Ivan Bilibin (1900). One

of several illustrations in

the renowned series of

watercolors Bilibin supplied

for the popular fairy tale of

Vasilisa’s visit to Baba Yaga,

the visual references the

heroine’s encounter en route

with the White Horseman.

According to Baba Yaga, he

is her “clear day”—an expla-

nation that suggests Baba

Yaga’s command over the

cycle of time. Illustration by

Ivan Bilibin (1876–1942).

The girls worked. The candle started to smoke. One of the

stepmother’s

daughters picked up the tongs to fix the wick, but instead of doing
that she

snuffed out the candle as if by accident, following her mother’s

orders.

“What can we do now?” the girls said. “There’s no flame in the whole
house, and we haven’t finished our tasks. Someone has to run and
get fire

from the Baba Yaga!”

“I have light from my pins,” said the one who was tatting lace, “I won’t
go.”

“I won’t go either,” said the one who was knitting a stocking, “I have
light

from the needles!”

“You have to go get fire,” they both shouted. “Go see Baba Yaga!”
And

they pushed Vasilisa out of the room.

Vasilisa went to her little store-room, put the dinner she had prepared

in front of her doll, and said, “Here, dolly, have a bite to eat and listen
to my

grief. They’re sending me to get fire from a Baba Yaga. The Baba
Yaga will

eat me up!”

173
Vasilisa the Beautiful

The Red Horseman by Ivan

Bilibin (1900). This illustra-

tion plays on the ambiguity

of the Russian word “kras-

nyi,” which earlier meant

both “red” and “beautiful.”

The Red Horseman carrying

a blazing torch is, Baba Yaga

explains, her “beautiful/red

sun,” and logically should

symbolize the hottest part

of the day or the beautiful

sunset of early evening, yet

in the text he augurs sunrise.

Illustration by Ivan Bilibin

(1876–1942).

The doll had a bite to eat, and her eyes lit up like two candles. “Don’t
be

afraid, dear Vasilisa!” she said. “Go where they’re sending you, but
always keep

me with you. Nothing bad can happen to you at Baba Yaga’s if I’m
with you.”

Vasilisa got ready, put her doll into her pocket, crossed herself, and
set

off into the deep, dark forest.

She walked along and trembled. Suddenly a horseman galloped past

her. He himself was white and dressed in white. The horse he rode
was

white, and the harness on the horse was white. It began to get light in
the

woods.

As she walked along farther, another horseman galloped past. He

him-

self was red, dressed in red and on a red steed. The sun began to
rise.

Vasilisa walked all night and all day, and she didn’t reach the clearing

where Baba Yaga’s house stood until evening. The fence around the
house

was made of human bones; human skulls with eyes were stuck on
the fence.

There were human leg-bones in the gate instead of posts, there were
arm-

174
Vasilisa the Beautiful

The Black Horseman by Ivan

Bilibin (1900). Baba Yaga’s

“black night” as the Black

Horseman, with the sinking

sun in the background her-

alding the darkness of night.

Like everything in her hut

and sundry animals in her

domain, all three horsemen

are her servants. Illustration

by Ivan Bilibin (1876–1942).

bones instead of doors, and a mouth with sharp teeth instead of a

lock.

Vasilisa felt faint with horror and stood there as if rooted to the spot.

Suddenly another horseman rode by. He was black, dressed all in

black, and

on a black steed. He rode up to Baba Yaga’s gate and disappeared

as if the

earth had swallowed him. Night had come.

But the darkness didn’t last long: the eyes of all the skulls on the
fence

lit up, and the whole clearing became light as midday. Vasilisa was
shaking

with fear, but since she didn’t know where to run she stayed where
she was.
Soon a dreadful noise came from the forest. The trees cracked, the
dry

leaves rustled. Baba Yaga rode out of the forest; she was riding in a
mortar,

driving with a pestle, sweeping her tracks away with a broom. She
rode up

to the gate, stopped, sniffed all around her, and shouted, “Fie, fie! I
smell a

Russian smell! Who’s there?”

Vasilisa went up to the old woman fearfully, bowed low, and said, “I’m

here, granny! The stepmother’s daughters sent me to get fire from

you.”

175
Vasilisa the Beautiful

Baba Yaga Flying in Her Mor-

tar by Ivan Bilibin (1900). In

his portrayal of Baba Yaga,

Bilibin combines shapes and

colors that integrate her into

the surroundings—stream-

ing white hair and white

broom that echo the white

trunks of the birch trees,

brownish-beige complexion,

limbs, and pestle that blend

with the vegetation—while

the vivid pink and blue of her

garments provide a strong

contrast. After all, she is na-

ture, but in anthropomorphic

form. Moreover, ambivalence

and ambiguity are her consti-

tutive features. Illustration by

Ivan Bilibin (1876–1942).

“All right,” said the Yaga-Baba, “I know them. Live here for now and
work

for me, and then I’ll give you some fire. If not, I’ll eat you!” Then she
turned to
the gates and shouted, “Hey, unlock, my firm locks! Open up, my
wide gate!”

The gate opened, and Baba Yaga rode in, whistling a tune. Vasilisa
fol-

lowed her, and then everything closed and locked back up. Once she
got into

the room, Baba Yaga stretched out and said to Vasilisa, “Serve up
what’s in

the stove, I want to eat.”

Vasilisa lit a splinter from the skulls on the fence and began getting
food

out of the stove and serving it to the Yaga. There was enough food
ready

there for ten people. She brought kvass, mead, beer, and wine up
from the

cellar. 98 The old woman ate and drank everything up. All she left for
Vasilisa was a bit of cabbage soup, a crust of bread, and a little piece
of ham.

Baba Yaga began to get ready for bed and said, “When I go out
tomor-

row, here’s what I want you to do. Clean up the yard, sweep out the
house,

176

Vasilisa the Beautiful

make dinner, get the laundry ready, and go into the granary, take a
quarter

measure of wheat and clean the wild peas out of it. And be sure to do
every-

thing. If you don’t, I’ll eat you!”

After she gave these orders, the Baba Yaga started snoring. But
Vasilisa

put the old woman’s leftovers in front of the doll, burst into tears, and
said,

“Here, dolly, have a bite to eat and listen to my grief! Baba Yaga has
given me

hard work, and she says she’ll eat me if I don’t finish everything. Help
me!”

The doll answered, “Don’t fear, Vasilisa the Beautiful! Eat some
dinner,

say your prayers, and go to bed. Morning is wiser than the evening.”

Vasilisa woke up early-early, but Baba Yaga was already up. She
looked

out the window. The eyes of the skulls were dimming. There the white
rider

passed, and it got completely light. Baba Yaga went out into the yard
and

whistled, and the mortar and pestle and the broom appeared before
her. The

red horseman flashed by, and the sun rose. Baba Yaga got in the
mortar and
rode out of the yard. She drove with the pestle and swept her tracks
away

with the broom.

Now Vasilisa was left alone. She looked around Baba Yaga’s house,
mar-

veled at the abundance of everything, and stopped in thought. What

task

should she start first?

She looked, and all the work was already done—the doll was pick-

ing the last black grains out of the wheat. “Oh, you, you’ve saved
me!” said

Vasilisa to the doll. “You’ve rescued me from misfortune.”

“All that’s left for you to do is make the dinner,” the doll answered,

climbing into Vasilisa’s pocket. “Good luck as you cook it, and then
rest all

you want!”

Toward evening, Vasilisa set the table and waited for Baba Yaga. It
start-

ed to get dark. The black horseman flashed by outside the gate, and
it got

completely dark. Only the eyes of the skulls showed light. The trees
began

to crack, the leaves began to rustle; the Baba Yaga was coming.
Vasilisa met
her at the door.

“Is everything done?” asked Yaga.

“Be so good as to look for yourself, granny!” said Vasilisa.

Baba Yaga looked over everything, felt a bit disappointed that there

was nothing to be angry about, and said, “All right!” Then she
shouted, “My

true servants, my heartfelt friends, grind the wheat for me!” Three
pairs of

hands appeared, picked up the wheat, and took it out of sight. Baba
Yaga ate

her fill, began to get ready for bed, and once again gave orders to
Vasilisa.

“Tomorrow do the same things you did today, and besides that take
the

177

Vasilisa the Beautiful

poppy-seed from the granary and clean the dirt out of it, grain by
grain. You

see, someone mixed a lot of earth into it out of spite!”

The old woman finished speaking, turned to the wall, and started
snor-

ing, and Vasilisa started to feed her doll.

The doll ate a bit and told her the same thing as the night before.
“Pray

to God and go to bed. Morning’s wiser than the evening. Everything

will be

done, Vasilisushka!”

In the morning Baba Yaga rode her mortar again out of the yard, and

Vasilisa and the doll took care of all the work right away.

The old woman returned, looked everything over, and shouted, “My

true servants, my heartfelt friends, press the oil out of the poppy-seed
for

me!” The three pairs of hands appeared, grabbed the poppy-seed,

and took

it away. Baba Yaga began to eat dinner. She ate, and Vasilisa stood
there si-

lently. “Why don’t you say anything?” asked the Baba Yaga. “You
stand there

as if you’re mute!”

“I didn’t dare,” answered Vasilisa. “But if you’ll permit me, then I would

like to ask you about a few things.”

“Ask me. Only not every question leads to good. If you know too
much,

you’ll soon get old!”

“I want to ask you, granny, only about what I saw. When I was coming
here, a horseman on a white horse rode past me, all white and
wearing white

clothes. Who is he?”

“That’s my clear day,” answered Baba Yaga.

“Then another horseman passed me, on a red horse and all dressed
in red.

Who is that?”

“That’s my beautiful sun!” answered Baba Yaga. 99

“And what does the black horseman mean, granny, the one who
passed

me at your very gate?”

“That’s my black night—they’re all my faithful servants!”

Vasilisa remembered the three pairs of hands and said nothing.

“Why don’t you ask me more?” asked Baba Yaga.

“That’ll do for me. You said yourself, grandmother, that if I learn too

much I’ll get old.”

Baba Yaga said, “It’s good that you ask only about what you saw out-

side the yard, and not what’s in the yard! I don’t like to have dirty
laundry

brought out of my house, and I eat the ones who are too curious!
Now I

shall ask you. How do you manage to finish all the work I order you to
do?”
“My mother’s blessing helps me,” answered Vasilisa.

178

Vasilisa the Beautiful

Vasilisa the Beautiful, late

nineteenth or early twen-

tieth century, anonymous.

Released after her doll has

accomplished the three

tasks set for Vasilisa, the girl

returns to her stepmother

and two stepsisters with

the light she has obtained

from Baba Yaga. The

latter’s hut behind her is

illuminated by the skulls

impaled on the surrounding

fence—concrete evidence

of Baba Yaga’s association

with death. Artist unknown,

http://belialith.blogspot

.com/2011/03/baba-yaga

-black-goddess.html.

“So that’s it! You get away from here, blessed daughter! I don’t need

anyone with a blessing.”

She dragged Vasilisa out of the room and pushed her through the
gate,

took a skull with glowing eyes off the fence, stuck it on a stake,
handed it to

her, and said, “Here’s the fire for the stepmother’s daughters, take it.
After

all, that’s why they sent you here.”

Vasilisa set off homeward at a run with her skull, which stopped burn-
ing as soon as morning came. Finally, toward evening of the second
day, she

made it back to her own home.

As she came up to the gate, she wanted to throw the skull away.
Surely

they don’t need the fire any more at home, she thought to herself. But
sud-

denly she heard a dull voice out of the skull: “Don’t throw me away!
Take me

to your stepmother.”

179
Vasilisa the Beautiful

Vasilisa Taking Home the

Fire by Ivan Bilibin (1900).

Her perilous mission ac-

complished, Vasilisa carries

the light-bearing skull back

home through the forest. The

skull not only illuminates her

path, but, in a gruesome way,

ultimately solves her family

problems. Illustration by Ivan

Bilibin (1876–1942).

She glanced at her stepmother’s house, saw no light in any of the

win-

dows, and made up her mind to take the skull in there.

For the very first time they welcomed her warmly, and they told her

that ever since she had left there’d been no flame in the house. They
couldn’t

strike one themselves and, no matter what fire they brought from the
neigh-

bors, it would go out as soon as they brought it into the room. “But
perhaps

your fire will last!” said her stepmother.

They brought the skull into the main room, and the eyes gave the
step-
mother and her daughters such a look from the skull that it just
burned

them! They tried to hide, but no matter where they ran, the eyes kept
fol-

lowing them. Toward morning it had burned them entirely to ashes.

Only

Vasilisa was left untouched.

In the morning Vasilisa buried the skull in the earth, locked the house

with a key, went into the city, and asked permission to live with an old

woman who had no children. She lived very well there and waited for
her

180

Vasilisa the Beautiful

father. Then one day she said to the old woman, “It’s dull for me to sit
with

nothing to do, granny! Go and buy me some of the best flax. At least I
can

do some spinning.”

The old woman bought her some of the very best flax. Vasilisa sat

down to work. Her work went wonderfully, the thread came out thin
and

even as a hair. She collected a lot of thread; it was time to start

weaving,
but they couldn’t find loom reeds to suit Vasilisa’s thread. No one
would

agree to make them. Vasilisa tried asking her doll, and her doll said,
“Bring

me any old reed and an old shuttle and a horse’s mane. I’ll put
everything

together for you.”

Vasilisa got everything necessary and lay down to sleep, while the
doll

prepared a wonderful loom for her overnight. Toward the end of

winter

the linen cloth was woven, and it was so fine that it could be put
through a

needle’s eye in place of thread.

In the spring they bleached the cloth, and Vasilisa said to the old
wom-

an, “Granny, sell this cloth and take the money for yourself.”

The old woman glanced at the stuff and gasped. “No, my child! No
one

may wear this kind of cloth except the tsar. I’ll take it to the palace.”

The old woman set off to the tsar’s palace and walked back and forth

under the windows. The tsar caught sight of her and said, “What do
you

need, old woman?”

“Your royal majesty,” answered the old woman, “I have brought some

wonderful goods. I don’t want to show them to anyone but you.”

The tsar ordered the old woman shown in to him, and as soon as he
saw

the cloth he marveled. “What do you want for it?” asked the tsar.

“It has no price, father tsar! I’ve brought it to you as a gift.”

The tsar thanked the old woman and sent her home with presents.

They began to make the tsar shirts of that cloth. They cut them out,
but

they couldn’t find a seamstress anywhere who would take it upon

herself to

make them. They looked for a long time. Finally the tsar summoned
the old

woman and said, “You knew how to spin and weave this kind of cloth,
so

you must know how to sew shirts from it.”

“I’m not the one, lord, who spun and wove the cloth,” said the old
wom-

an, “it’s the work of my ward—a young woman.”

“So then let her sew them!”

The old woman returned home and told Vasilisa about everything.

Vasilisa said to her, “I knew this work would not pass by my hands.”
She
shut herself up in her room and got to work. She sewed without
resting, and

soon a dozen shirts were ready.

181

Vasilisa the Beautiful

This 6-kopek Soviet stamp is-

sued in 1975 features Vasilisa

leaving the notorious hut of

Baba Yaga. As in the United

States, the choice of visuals

for stamps depends on the

popularity of the persona or

event represented, and this

stamp corroborates Baba

Yaga’s status and the fairy

tales in which she appears as

central in Russian and Soviet

culture.

The old woman took the shirts to the tsar, and Vasilisa washed her
face,

combed her hair, got dressed, and sat down under by the window.
She sat

there and waited to see what would happen. She saw the tsar’s
servant come

into the old woman’s yard.

He walked into the room and said, “The lord tsar wants to see the

master who worked on the shirts for him, and to reward her from his
own

royal hands.”

Vasilisa went and appeared before the tsar. The moment the tsar saw

Vasilisa the Beautiful, he fell madly in love with her. “No,” he said, “my
beauty! I won’t be separated from you. You’re to be my wife.”

Then the tsar took Vasilisa by her white hands and sat her down
beside

him, and they held the wedding then and there. Soon Vasilisa’s father
too

returned, rejoiced at her fate, and stayed to live with his daughter.
Vasilisa

brought the old woman to live with her, and as long as Vasilisa lived
she

always carried the little doll in her pocket.

(Afanas’ev, no. 104)

182
The

End

Baba Yaga’s Hut by Cynthia Ferguson. www.cindyferguson.com.

This page intentionally left blank

NOTES

FOREWORD

I NTRODUCTION

1. Gustav Henningsen, “‘Ladies from

1. Etimologicheskii slovar’ russkogo jazyka

the Outside’: An Archaic Pattern

(Moscow: Izdatel’stvo “Progress,” 1973),

of the Witches’ Sabbath,” in Early

vol. IV, 542–43.

Modern European Witchcraft: Centres

2. Fasmer points out that “yazi-baba” in

and Peripheries, ed. Ben Ankarloo

Ukrainian means both ‘witch’ and . . . a

and Gustav Henningsen (Oxford:

hairy caterpillar.

Clarendon Press, 1990), 195.

3. The word for ‘sea’ in Russian is more,

pronounced MORE-yeh. It is neuter

in gender, not a man’s name like the

sources of most patronymics. Perhaps

PREFACE ,

Mar’ia Morevna’s father is the king of

ACKNOWLED GMENTS, AN D

the sea; he is the heroine’s father in

TRANSLATOR’S NOTE

some Russian wonder tales that do not

feature Baba Yaga.

1. Aleksandr

Afanas’ev’s Narodnye russkie

4. Joanna Hubbs, Mother Russia: The

skazki has been published in a number

Feminine Myth in Russian Culture

of editions, beginning in 1855; the most

(Bloomington: Indiana University

complete editions usually included three

Press, 1988), 46.

volumes and are edited by the foremost

5. Boris A. Rybakov, Iazychestvo drevnei

Russian folklorists of the day. The

Rusi ( The Pagan Religion of Old Rus’)

tales Afanas’ev collected are now also

(Moscow: “Nauka,” 1987).

available on the FebWeb web site. Ivan

6. The old calendar marked the chang-

Khudiakov’s collection Velikorusskie

ing seasons around February 1—

skazki was first published in Moscow

Groundhog Day?—May 1, August 1,

in 1860–1862, and they have also been

and November 1. Thus, Midsummer

reprinted more than once, though they

Night’s Eve is called “midsummer” even

never gained the fame of Afanas’ev’s

though we now count the summer as

collection.

beginning, rather than reaching its

2. Robert Chandler, ed., Russian Magic

middle, on the solstice.

Tales from Pushkin to Platonov, trans.

7. The length of the Russian term for

Robert Chandler and Elizabeth

a female cousin, dvoiurodnaia sestra,

Chandler, with Sibelan Forrester, Anna

encourages speakers to abbreviate to

Gunin, and Olga Meerson (London:

its second half, sestra, which means just

Penguin Books, 2012). The appendix,

‘sister.’

“Baba Yaga: The Wild Witch of the

8. Even modern Russian observes in a

East,” appears on pages 419–33.

proverb that “God loves trinity.”

185

Notes

9. Mistakes come in threes, too: Prince

16. These powerful figures tend not to

Ivan tries to rescue Mar’ia Morevna

appear in great numbers in any one

three times, even though Kashchei the

tale. They fulfill the same testing and

Deathless has warned that he will kill

rewarding function, or else one or two

him after the third time, and the kid in

of them will suffice to signify the magi-

“Baba Yaga and the Kid” lets Baba Yaga

cal or ritual realm.

provoke him into yelling three times

17. Even in the nineteenth century, hunting

even after his brothers, the cat and the

strongly shaped Russian experience: see

bird, repeatedly warn him not to.

Ivan Turgenev’s first big literary success,

10. The shape of the wonder tale—the

A Sportsman’s Sketches (1852), which

variety of folktales that begin once upon

presents both peasants and nobles as

a time and end happily ever after—was

hunters.

brilliantly generalized by Vladimir

18. See Natalie Kononenko, “Women

Propp in Morphology of the Folktale

as Performers of Oral Literature: A

(1928; English translation 1968), and

Re-examination of Epic and Lament,”

by Joseph Campbell in Hero with a

in Women Writers in Russian Literature,

Thousand Faces (New York: Pantheon

ed. Toby W. Clyman and Diana Greene

Books, 1949).

(Westport, CT: Praeger, 1994), 17–33.

11. Rus’ is the old name for the East Slavic

19. In the Russian wonder tales, characters

land that was ruled from Kiev or Kyïv.

are often torn apart—not only girls who

The word is the root of “Russian” and

fail to rescue the baby, but also Prince

also of “Ruthenia” and “Rusyn.”

Ivan when he tries too often to take

12. This is the case in one version of “The

Mar’ia Morevna back from Kashchei.

Feather of Finist, the Bright Falcon.”

Prince Ivan is reconstituted and revived

The shift from Baba Yaga to helpful old

with dead water and living water.

woman minus chicken feet may be due

Death in a wonder tale is not always

to the rise of Orthodox religion as it

permanent.

displaced or “overwrote” pagan elements

20. The terrors of the forest were personi-

of traditional Russian folk culture.

fied not only in Baba Yaga, but also in

13. The idea that dawn would be distinct

leshii, the nature spirit who was master

from sunrise reflects an archaic world-

of the forest, and a number of other

view. The sun was the ruler but not the

nature spirits. For more about Russian

cause of the blue daytime sky. The sky

nature spirits, see Linda Ivanits’s book,

grew pale long before the sun appeared

Russian Folk Belief (Armonk, NY: M. E.

and remained pale after the sun set,

Sharpe, 1989).

especially in northern latitudes, and

21. The sun itself might be seen as mov-

in northern Russia in winter the sun

ing through a rapid cycle of birth and

might not rise at all.

death as it rises and sets; the moon

14. The Russian word for “red,” krasnyi,

waxes and wanes more gradually, but its

comes from the same root as the word

changing shape was often interpreted

for “beautiful,” so the sun is at once red

in ancient cultures as swelling with

and beautiful.

pregnant fertility, or as shrinking while

15. Baba Yaga never seems to have a son,

it was devoured by a serpent or another

though she may have a grandson . . .

monster.

186

Notes

22. Interestingly, the RuneQuest explana-

into English by Ellen Elias-Bursać,

tion of Baba Yaga and her daughters

Celia Hawkesworth, and Mark

imagines her mating with men in dark

Thompson in 2009).

places, rather than producing children

by herself, “in the old way.” See her

page on Simon Phipp’s RuneQuest/

TALES OF BABA YAGA

Gloriantha site, http://www.soltakss

.com/babayaga.html.

1. The dialect word zhikhar’ means a

23. Readers might be interested to learn

young man, but it is less formal than

that several of the tales in Afanas’ev’s

“young man.” Translating it as “kid”

famous nineteenth-century collection

is meant to suggest a combination of

were recorded in dialects of Belarusian

youth and energy. Norbert Guterman

or Ukrainian.

gives this tale the title “The Brave

24. Some of the tales do seem to cry out

Youth.”

for a Jungian reading: Mar’ia Morevna

2. The tale uses the regional word

is an effective and terrifying war leader

ponuzhat, which Afanas’ev glossed as

despite her feminine beauty until Prince

pogoniaet, “drives.”

Ivan lets Kashchei out of her closet.

3. Zabazlal— glossed as gromko krichat’, to

Then she appears to turn into a typical,

shout loudly.

passive fairy-tale princess. It is only

4. Golbets—“a wooden appendage/ pridelka

after Ivan has rescued her that she

to the stove, above the passage to the

receives the bogatyr horse that Kashchei

cellar.”

once earned from Baba Yaga, which we

5. Ladka—a clay frying pan.

know is not quite as good as Ivan’s horse. 6. Navolok, literally the

‘dragged over’ or Kashchei might be read as the critical

‘stretched over’; Afanas’ev notes its

or oppressive powers of her animus,

meaning as pol, floor.

and the horse as the autonomy that is

7. Tselo—the upper part of a Russian stove.

returned to her once she and Ivan are

8. Zamoryshek. Afanas’ev notes that some

finally united as equals. Nevertheless,

tellers use a different variant of this

the tale clearly focuses on Ivan’s own

name, Posledushek, which also means

development into full adulthood rather

“runt” or “the last little bit.”

than Mar’ia Morevna’s.

9. Afanas’ev lists this variant: the witch

25. See Marija Gimbutas, The Goddesses

was tempted by the marvelous bogatyr

and Gods of Old Europe, 7000–3500

horses and decided to kill the fine

BC: Myths, Legends and Cult Images

young men during the night. Runt took

(Berkeley and Los Angeles: University

the garlands off her sleeping daughters,

of California Press, 1974) and The

and the hats off his brothers; he put the

Civilization of the Goddess: The

garlands on his brothers, and the hats

World of Old Europe (San Francisco:

on the witch’s daughters. The witch

HarperSanFrancisco, 1991), and Barbara

came and killed all of her daughters.

G. Walker, The Woman’s Encyclopedia

Runt took a brush, a comb, and a towel

of Myths and Secrets (San Francisco:

from her, and with their help he saved

Harper and Row, 1983).

them all as they ran away. When he

26. Dubravka Ugrešić, Baba Jaga je snijela

threw down the brush a mountain rose

jaje ( Baba Yaga Laid an Egg, translated

up, when he threw down the comb

187

Notes

a forest grew up, and when he threw

18. Variant: “You knew how to get me, now

down the towel a deep river appeared.

marry me. I’m not a gray duck after all,

10. The scarlet flower ties this tale to

I’m a king’s daughter!”

Konstantin Aksakov’s “Little Scarlet

19. Variant: two spirits.

Flower,” 1858, which he wrote down

20. Variant: on that island walks a golden-

from memory after hearing the tale

maned mare with nine foals.

many times from a beloved nanny. That

21. Variant: let him send the musketeer to

detail shows the links of Finist to the

the edge of ruin, where Shmat-Razum

Beast in “Beauty and the Beast,” and

lives.

to many other folklore animal grooms

22. Afanas’ev notes the word kisa, glossed as

(and brides).

meshok, ‘sack.’

11. The word zavetnyj means something

23. The teller switches here from “king” to

between “special” and “sacred”: a thing

“tsar.”
that is zavetnyi comes with special

24. Variant: Urza-Murza.

conditions or even a covenant.

25. Variant of the middle of the tale: The

12. “When they sang ‘ Dostoino,’” a prayer to

musketeer said good-bye to his wife,

Mary the Mother of God that begins “It

let the ball of thread roll before him,

is suitable to praise you . . .”

and set off after it. Close or else far,

soon, or briefly, he came to an empty

13. Afanas’ev cites this variant: inside she

field, looked—and a little house was

saw a Baba Yaga, bony leg, in a cast-iron

standing on a chicken’s leg. He hid the

mortar.

ball of thread in his pocket and said,

14. The Russian word “dukh” can mean

“Little house, little house! Stand with

“spirit,” “breath,” or “smell”—so “essence”

your front to me and your back to the

might be a good translation, though

woods.” The house turned its front

that English word is from a higher

toward him. He stepped across the

stylistic register than most of the rest of

threshold and saw an old woman sitting

this tale.

in the house.

15. Variant: appears in real life.

“Hello, granny!”

16. Variant ending: Finist the bright falcon,

“Hello, good man! How has God brought

after learning that the princess had sold

you to our country—by your will or

him for diamonds and for gold, ordered

against your will?”

his servants to drive her away from

“Against my will, granny! The king sent me.

the palace; but he himself married the

‘Go,’ he said, ‘I don’t know where, bring

darling fair maiden. There’s no need to

me back I don’t know what.’”

say that it was merry at that wedding;

“Well, lad, as long as I’ve been living in the

there were many tsars and tsars’ sons

world, I’ve never heard of that.”

there, and kings and princes, and all

The musketeer took a pitcher of water,

kinds of Orthodox people. I myself was

washed up from the road, took out his

there, I drank mead and wine, it ran

towel, and began to dry off. The old

down my mustache, but it didn’t go into

woman saw that and asked, “Listen,

my mouth.

good man, where did you get hold of

17. Variant: He came to the shore of the sea

that towel? Why, that’s the work of my

and saw one gray duck swimming on

niece.”

the water.

“Of your niece, and of my God-given wife.”

188

Notes

“Where is she, the dear?”

passed before they came, dragging a frog

“She stayed at home, she’s alive and well,

with three legs. “Where did you get to,

she asked me to pass on her regards.”

you rascal?”

The old woman was overjoyed, gave him

“It’s my fault, my lady! I hurried with all

food and drink, and said, “Well, my

my strength, but I had an accident

friend! Come with me, I’ll collect all my

on the road. A peasant was driving a

subjects for you and ask them. Perhaps,

wagon; the wheel rolled over me and

if your fate is happy, one of them will

crushed off my leg. I could hardly make

know where and why the king has sent

my way to your mercy.”

you.”

“Do you know how to go I don’t know

They went out into the yard. The old

where and to bring back I don’t know

woman called out in a loud voice and

what?”

gave a manly whistle, and all the birds

“Perhaps I could show the way, only it’s

came flying to her. As many as there are

whoooo!—ever so far! There’s no way I

in the whole white world, [The Russian

could jump all the way there.”

expression “the white world” suggests

The musketeer took the frog, wrapped it in

every place where the sunlight shines.]

a kerchief, and carried it in his hand. He

all of them came flying. “Flying birds!

walked along, and the frog told him the

Whoever among you knows, tell me

way. He walked and walked; he came

how to get to I don’t know where, to

to the blue sea, crossed on a boat to the

bring back I don’t know what.” None of

other side, and saw a palace standing

the birds had heard of it.

there. He went inside and hid behind

The musketeer walked farther, and he

the stove.

stopped by another old woman’s house.

Right at midnight twelve handsome lads

That one gathered the beasts and asked

came into the palace. The leader stepped

them. The beasts didn’t know anything

up and shouted, “Hey, Gulbrey!”

either.

An invisible creature answered, “What are

The musketeer continued on his way,

your orders?”

stopped by the house of a third old

“Serve dinner and wine for twelve people,

woman, and told her his grief. The old

and let there be a choir of musicians.”

woman went out into her yard, shouted

At once everything appeared: the music

in a loud voice, and gave a manly

began to roar and the party got started!

whistle, and all the reptiles of every

. . . (The musketeer lures the invisible

name came crawling, both the hissing

creature away with him and sets out on

snakes and the jumping frogs. So many

the way back.) He came up to the sea

of them came that there was nowhere

and saw that the boat was nowhere to

to step! Not one of the reptiles knew

be found. “Hey, Gulbrey! How could we

where and why the king had sent the

get to the other side?”

good lad.

“Here’s a burned stump. Sit down on it and

Then the old woman took the list of

hold on tight.”

names and began to call the roll—was

The musketeer put the frog inside his

everyone in place? All the reptiles were

shirt, sat down on the burned stump

there in their places; only one frog

and grabbed it tightly with both hands.

was missing. They sent runners right

Suddenly the stump rose up into the air

away to find her. Not even an hour had

and flew all the way across the sea . . .

189

Notes

26. Variant: One merchant pulled out a

brought healing water and living water

snuff-box. The moment he lifted the

and sprayed it onto Prince Ivan. After

lid, that moment a big city spread out.

that all three of them lifted him up and

The other merchant got out an axe. He

took him over thrice-nine lands, to the

tapped with the blade on the ground,

thrice-tenth kingdom. They brought

and at once a palace appeared; he struck

him to the thrice-tenth kingdom and

with the butt on the back corner, and

said, “Go to the blue sea; a marvelous

the palace was gone! And the third

mare is strolling there. Ahead of her

merchant showed him a needle case:

twelve mowers are mowing hay and

he just opened it, and out rode an army

twelve rakers are raking it; she follows

with both cavalry and infantry.

them and eats it all up. When the mare

27. Moklak, glossed by Afanas’ev as

starts drinking water, the blue sea gets

bessovestnyj chelovek, ‘man without a

rough, and leaves fall from the trees.

conscience,’ and poproshajka, ‘cadger.’

When she starts scratching herself on

28. The Russian name Ol’ga is pronounced

the hundred-year-old oaks, those oak

with a very soft “l” sound, spelled by

trees fall over on the ground, as if they

the “soft sign.” The name comes from a

were sheaves of oats. Every month she

word connected to magic.

bears one foal. Twelve wolves walk

29. Variant: Prince Ivan looked—and there

around after her, and they devour those

was a dragon with twelve heads, with

foals. Choose the moment, and as soon

twelve snouts hanging on iron hooks,

as the mare has borne a foal with a star

and blood was flowing from its wounds.

on its forehead pick it up right away,

The dragon said to Prince Ivan, “Ah,

and take it away from the wolves. That

good man! Dip your finger in my blood

will be your bogatyr horse! With it,

and breathe on me. For your service I’ll

Koshchei the Deathless won’t be able to

save you three times from death.” Ivan

catch you.” Prince Ivan did everything

Tsarevich dipped his finger in the blood

his brothers-in-law had told him to . . .

and blew on the dragon; the dragon

leapt up, broke the hooks and flew away.

33. Variant: Instead of the beehive, accord-

30. Variant: “Leave us your golden ring.

ing to another recording, Prince Ivan

We’ll look at it and think of you. If the

meets a crab.
ring’s bright, that will mean you’re alive

34. Variant: “How could we help coming

and well, but if it gets dull we’ll know

back? Crabs came crawling from the

right away that some misfortune has

whole sea, they started to grab onto us

overtaken you.” Prince Ivan left his gold

and pinch us with their claws—we’d

ring and set off for the dragon kingdom.

have been glad to run until we came to

31. Variant: full of pies.

the end of the world!”

32. Variant: Eagle Eagleson flew to the sea

35. Of course the reader remembers that

and called the strong winds. The sea got

Mar’ia Morevna has already seen Prince

rough and threw the barrel out onto

Ivan since he was brought back to life:

the shore. Falcon Falconson grabbed

she gave him the magic handkerchief

the barrel in his talons, flew with it high

and told him to get a horse from Baba

up above the clouds, and threw it from

Yaga. Perhaps the transfer of her joy

there onto the earth, and the barrel fell

and relief from that scene to this one

and broke into pieces. Raven Ravenson

reflects the possible dangers of his visit

190

Notes

to Baba Yaga, who could have torn him

field ammunition, ready to go to war

apart just as Koshchei did.

this minute!

36. Variant: “And can we catch them?” “If

Prince Ivan asked, “Blacksmiths, black-

we set off now, then perhaps we’ll catch

smiths! Who are you making all these

them. Prince Ivan has a new horse,

soldiers for?”

my younger brother.” Koshchei chased

“For Baba Yaga, golden leg. She’s been

after Prince Ivan, and he was about

fighting with Beloy Polyanin for thirty

to catch up to him. “Ah, brother,” said

years, but she still can’t defeat him.”

Prince Ivan’s horse to Koshchei’s horse.

. . . He walked and walked. Some huts were

“Why are you serving such an unclean

standing there, and fair maidens sat in

monster? Throw him off and kick him!”

those huts, working at looms. The mo-

The horse obeyed, threw Koshchei off,

ment they made the loom-reed boom,

and kicked him to death.

all at once a soldier would leap out, with

37. Moon and Star would be very unusual

a rifle, with a saber, with the whole field

names for girls in Russia: the names

ammunition, ready to go to war this

could be rendered as Luna and Stella,

moment! . . .

but the names “Mesiats” and “Zvezda”

44. In another recording the story ends dif-

are the everyday names for the astro-

ferently: Beloy Polyanin hauled out the

nomical objects.

fair maiden with the cable, but feared

38. Vanechka is a diminutive form of

that Prince Ivan would take away his

Ivan—an affectionate nickname.

bride, and thought of killing him. Prince

39. Saying a charm to work magic is often

Ivan guessed what was going on and

described with very simple language,

wanted to test ahead of time whether

with the charm or spell called simply “a

Beloy Polyanin was true to him. He

word” or “the words.”

took a big stone and fastened it to the

40. Khudiakov’s note: “Written down

cable. Beloy Polyanin pulled and pulled,

by me in the Nizhegorod guberniia

pulled it halfway up and then cut the

in Ardatnovskii uezd in the village of

cable, and the stone fell and shattered

Kotovko from the old woman Ol’ga

into fine dust. A huge eagle carried

Stepanovna Kotysheva, née in the vil-

Prince Ivan from the other world (as

lage Nuchi of the same uezd.”

in the tale “Norka-zver’” / “The Mink-

41. “Govorila” means ‘said’ or ‘was talking,’

Beast”). As soon as Beloy Polyanin saw

but it is the feminine verb form that

him, he was mighty frightened, fell to

would be used for a woman, not a man

his feet, and began begging for forgive-

(like Prince Danila).

ness. “Well, brother,” said Prince Ivan,

42. Variant: Polyak Belyi Kolpak, ‘The

“I wouldn’t forgive you for anything, if

Polish Man White Cap’; Polyanin

not for your young wife. I feel sorry for

means ‘man who lives in the fields’ or

her. Thanks to her I forgive you!” After

‘lowlander.’

that Prince Ivan rides off to the dragon

43. Variant: He walked and walked.

kingdom . . .

Smithies were standing there, and in

45. Afanas’ev notes: “This word, medved’, is

those smithies they were heating iron

pronounced vedmet’ in the local dialect.”

and beating it with hammers. With ev-

46. Just as Ivan is the most common name

ery blow of the hammer, a soldier would

for a fairy-tale hero, Mar’ia is a very

be ready, with a rifle, with a saber, in full

common name for a heroine. There is

191

Notes

a Russian flower called Ivan-da-Mar’ia,

empty hut and settled there with his

‘Ivan and Mar’ia’; this tale is not the

sister . . .

only place where the names are found

49. Variant: “Live in this house,” said the

together.

little bullock, “and slaughter me. Eat

47. Variant: a raven.

the meat, and put the bones together in

48. Variant: The Bear Tsar ran off to get

one place and water that place with the

food, and Prince Ivan and Princess

water you washed the cups and spoons

Mar’ia stood there and cried. Out

in. Those bones will grow up into two

of nowhere a good horse appeared.

dogs.”

“Climb up on me,” it said. “I’ll take you

50. The name Duginya suggests a bow,

to the blue sea.” The moment they had

duga.

climbed up, the good horse leapt with

51. Soska—like the other bogatyr names—is

them over the standing trees, under

not an actual Russian name. It seems

the passing clouds. The bear saw and

to be an affectionate diminutive from

started chasing.

the word for a pine tree, sosna, so it

“Ah, good horse! The bear’s chasing behind

would mean something like “Piney.”

us!”

The word soska also means ‘nipple’ in

“No matter, Prince Ivan! Take the splinter

Russian, so the story may have a bawdy

undercurrent.

out of my left ear and throw it behind

52. Gorynya suggests the word root

you.”

gor-, associated with fire, and perhaps

Prince Ivan pulled out the splinter and

reminding the listener of the serpent

threw it, and all at once it became a

Zmei Gorynych in Russian folklore.

deep, dark forest—you couldn’t walk

53. Usynya from us, mustache.

or ride through it! While the Bear Tsar

54. Afanas’ev summarizes the ending of

was fighting his way through the grove,

this variant: bogatyr Soska fell. He was

they rode off very far away. The bear

brought out into Rus’ by a huge bird.

came running in pursuit; he was already

He married Baba Yaga’s daughter, but

getting close!
his bogatyr comrades scattered in fear to

“Ah, good horse! The bear is running up

various foreign lands.

behind us.”

55. Khudiakov notes that this variety of

“It’s no matter, Prince Ivan! Take the

beetle is called rogach, “horny one.”

little vial out of my right ear and spray

56. Variant 1: Once there lived a tsar

behind you.”

named Dolmat. He gathered an army

Prince Ivan did that, and right away it

of three thousand, and all of them were

made a deep blue sea. The bear ran up

soldiers’ children, sixteen years old.

to the blue sea, looked and gazed, and

He found them all places in the palace

then ran off into the dark forests.

regiments. Some ten years went by, and

The good horse began to say good-bye to

the soldiers’ children had risen in the

Prince Ivan and Princess Mar’ia. They

ranks. Some had become officers, some

were sorry to part with him, but there

were colonels, and some were generals!

was nothing to be done. They said

Only one of all the comrades, Semyon

good-bye, and the prince and princess

Erofeev, had remained an ordinary

set off in one direction, while the horse

soldier. He began complaining to the

went the other. Prince Ivan found an

tsar. “It’s like this and like that,” he said.

192

Notes

“I couldn’t serve my way to any kind of

hitting one another on the ear. This was

little rank. There’s happiness for other

the only way they could drive off sleep.

people, but I don’t seem to count for

Suddenly a powerful storm blew up. A

anything!”

huge chariot came rolling, with twelve

Tsar Dolmat ordered them to let Semyon

horses pulling it. The horses writhed

retire and gave him three acres of land.

just like snakes, and behind them came

Semyon hired a workman, plowed and

twelve wolves, and just as many bears

sowed the land with wheat. The wheat

shackled with iron chains. The chariot

grew up marvelously! One day he went

quickly passed over the field. Where the

out to his field and took a look. A tenth

wheat had been growing green, there

of it was completely trampled, and there

was nothing but black soil, and not a

wasn’t a single sprout standing: all you

single sprout was left!

could see was the black soil. He felt

Semyon leapt onto his horse and raced off

terribly sorry to have suffered such a

after the chariot. Eleven men broke into

loss. Right away he armed some peasant

a gallop after him. They rode for a long

guards and gave them strict instructions

time or a short time, and then they rode

not to sleep all night, but to guard the

up to an enormous castle. There they

grain.

went into the white-stone chambers

The men went out into the field and

and saw a table spread. Twelve places

started to stand guard, but right at mid-

were set on the table, and all kinds of

night, just as it struck twelve, not a one

wines and snacks were prepared in

of them could resist falling asleep. Each

plenty. They had something to eat and

one fell down right where he’d been

drink and were getting ready to go back,

standing. A sound, heavy sleep came

but no matter where they turned they

over them, and they slept right through

couldn’t find any doors.

until broad daylight. In the morning,

An ancient old woman came in and said to

what do you know—another tenth was

them, “Why are you trying so hard for

trampled. Semyon armed even more

nothing? Coming in to see us is easy,

guards than before, both on horse and

but getting out is hard. The gates into

on foot, and he himself went into the

here are wide, but the ones going out

field with them. “So, brothers!” he said.

are narrow. Soon twelve she-bears will

“Let’s form two groups. Let half stand

come in, they’ll eat dinner and then

guard from evening to midnight, and

leave again. But they aren’t she-bears,

the other half from midnight to dawn.”

they’re enchanted fair maidens. Eleven

And so they did. As midnight began to

are boyars’ daughters, and the twelfth

draw closer, the first guards began to

is a princess. If you spend three nights

be overcome by sleep; they woke up the

here, then you’ll rescue all of them and

new ones to take their shift, and then

win good fortune for yourselves!”

they fell right over and went to sleep.

But the new guards themselves could

Variant 2: Once there lived a rich mer-

barely resist, sleep was pushing at them

chant, he died and left a young son

from all sides! Semyon Erofeev saw that

behind. Grief and longing fell upon

things were looking bad, and he ordered

him, and he got the idea of going to

them to hit one another on the ear and

the tavern to have a good time among

shout “Listen!” The peasants started

good people. He came to the tavern,

193

Notes

and there sat a tavern barfly [Afanas’ev

“No, soldier! Better help us,” said the doves.

notes: in the Russian, yaryga] singing

“We’ll come in handy to you!”

songs. The merchant’s son asked him,

The merchant’s son bared his sharp sword

“Tell me, why are you so cheerful?”

and slashed at the three snakes until

“And what reason do I have to be sorrow-

they were dead, and the little doves

ful? I just drank a measure of wine, and

flapped their wings and flew away.

that cheers me up.”

The merchant’s son rested and went

“Can that be true?”

along on his way, following his nose.

“Try it, you’ll find out yourself!”

He walked and walked and came to a

The merchant’s son drank a glass, and

dugout house. He went inside. In the

another, and he began to feel more

dugout house stood a table, and on the

cheerful. “Let me try some more!” He

table three places were set with dishes.

emptied half a carafe, got drunk, and

He took a piece from each place and ate

started up a song.

it, crawled under the bed, and lay there,

“Why should we just sit here like this?”

keeping very still. Suddenly the three

asked the tavern drunk. “Let’s try our

doves flew in, struck against the damp

luck at cards.”

ground, and turned into fair maidens.

“If you want to!”

“Ah!” they said, “some guest has visited us,

They sat down to play cards. In a short

and it seems to have been a good man:

time the merchant’s son had lost all his

he offended no one but took a piece

money. He said, “I have nothing more to

from each plate.”

play for!”

The merchant’s son heard these words,

“There’s not only money, you can play for

crawled out from under the bed and

your house and your shops!” answered

said, “Hello, fair maidens!”

the tavern drunk. “Perhaps you’ll make

“Ah, you fine young man! You did us one

up for all your losses!”

good turn—you killed the three snakes.

Before even half an hour had passed, the

Now do another as well—stay here for

merchant’s son was left with nothing.

three nights! No matter what happens

His house, his shops—he’d lost every-

around you, even if thunder rumbles,

thing. He woke up in the morning poor

winds whistle, and horrors try to

as a church mouse! [In Russian, gol kak

frighten you, stand firm, don’t fear, and

sokol, literally ‘naked as a falcon.’] What

read this book here . . .”

could he do now?

57. A pood is a traditional Russian weight,

He went from grief to enlist as a soldier.

slightly more than sixteen kilograms—a

The soldier’s fate isn’t an easy one; you

bit more than thirty-six pounds.

answer with your back for everything

58. Baba Yaga does not appear by name in

and everyone! And so he decided to

this tale, yet it is clear that the three old

run away. He ran off into a thick, deep

women who welcome the heroine are

forest, walked up into a clearing, and

very close to her.

sat down to rest . . . Three doves came

59. In Russian traditional culture, strangers

flying out of nowhere, with three snakes

may address each other with kinship

chasing after them. They flew into that

terms, especially when the speaker is

clearing and started to fight.

a child: “auntie” or “uncle” for younger

“Soldier! Help us,” said the snakes. “We’ll

adults, and “granny” or “granddad” for

give you a lot of money.”

older ones. The word for grandmother,

194
Notes

babuhska, is the affectionate diminutive

did just that: a white birch tree grew up

form of the first part of Baba Yaga’s

behind him, and in front of him stood

name.

Vasilisa the Wise.

60. In the original ne po kostiam, ‘don’t suit

my bones.’

Variant 2: “Eh,” said Baba Yaga, “if you had

61. Khudiakov noted: “Written down by

come sooner, then you’d have found her

me from a man born in the village

here, but now you’ll have to wait for her

of Selin, in the Venev uezd of Tula

until tomorrow.” Early in the morning

guberniia.”

the Yaga woke Prince Ivan and said,

62. “Haiduk” is a word used in Central

“Go out in the green meadow and hide

Europe with various meanings; here it

behind a bush. A white swan will fly

suggests dashing uniformed guards.

past; it will hover there over you. Don’t

63. An arshin is an old Russian measure-

miss your chance: take hold of her and

ment, about seventy centimeters or

hold on tight. It’s Vasilisa the Wise! If

roughly two feet.

you let go, you’ll never find her again.”

64. Afanas’ev notes: “A lubok (woodcut)

Prince Ivan went out into the green

edition from 1847; it is given here in

meadow and caught the white swan.

abbreviated form.”

No matter how much she struggled or

65. T erem in Russian means ‘women’s quar-

tried to tear loose, she couldn’t get loose.

ters’; the word suggests the Muscovite

Vasilisa the Wise said to him, “Let go,

period.

my dear friend! You’ve crumpled my

66. Variant: a cuckoo. While the swan is

little wings all up. You knew how to find

known for its beauty, in Russian culture

me, so now I’ll be yours forever.”

the cuckoo is associated with lamenta-

70. In Khudiakov’s collection this tale

tion (as in the chant of the dolls in the

follows another (that lacks Baba Yaga)

tale “Prince Danila-Govorila”).

about a stepmother and stepdaugh-

67. Variant: He came up to the sea: the

ter, and so its title there is “Again the

shores were made of custard, the water

Stepmother and the Stepmother’s

was flowing milk! Here he ate his fill,

Daughter.”

drank his fill, and gathered his strength

71. Khudiakov noted: “Recorded by me in

...

the city of Kazan’.”

68. Variant: The prince went into the little

72. Variant: The two older brothers rode

house, and there was a Baba Yaga, bony

and rode and came to a fiery river. They

leg, lying from corner to corner. She was

didn’t know how to go farther, so they

as hungry as could be.

set up tents to one side and started to

69. Variant 1: “Ah, I know!” said Baba Yaga.

live in the empty field, to spend their

“Wait, soon she’ll come flying to me to

time in revelry. But the younger brother

search my head. As soon as you see her,

set out on the road to Baba Yaga. She

grab her right away. Vasilisa the Wise

gave him a towel and said, “With this

will start to turn into various shapes.

you can ride across the fiery river. Wave

Watch her and don’t be afraid, hold her

the towel to the right and a bridge will

tight! When she turns into a spindle,

appear, wave it to the left and the bridge

you break her in two pieces. Throw

will vanish.”

them behind you and say: this was a

73. Note from Afanas’ev: Another record-

spindle, but now grow behind me as a

ing says that a dragon is curled all

white birch tree, and turn into a dear

around the garden with the apples of

fair maiden in front of me!” Prince Ivan

youth and the springs of the water of

195

Notes

life and of death—his head and tail

86. From here to the end the tale follows

come together in one place. The Baba

the version that Afanas’ev offers as

Yaga tells the prince, “You strike that

a variant on tale no. 129, because his

dragon in the head. From that bogatyr

primary variant does not involve Baba

blow he’ll sleep for three days. During

Yaga.

that time you’ll manage to do every-

87. Variant: He saw a golden ring; the

thing! And here’s a dry twig for you.

prince took the ring, and as soon as he

When you go into the garden, run right

put it on his finger two black men ap-

away to all the springs and dip this twig

peared at once and said, “What is your

into the water. The spring that makes it

will, Prince Ivan?”

put out leaves and flowers—that one, it

88. Chereviki.

means, has living water flowing in it.”

89. Zalët means ‘drop-in’ or ‘fly-by.’

74. She gave him a stezh, glossed by

90. Misha Kosolapoy, ‘Misha Crooked-Paw’

Afanas’ev as udar prutom ili plet’ju, ‘a

or ‘Misha Clumsy-Paw,’ was a typical

blow with a stick or a lash.’

name for bears in Russian animal tales.

75. According to the formation of Russian

91. Zapechnik means ‘Behind the Stove.’

patronymics, a yagishna must be the

92. Ivashko is the diminutive form of Ivas’,

child of a Baba Yaga, though she seems

not the same name as Ivan. Perhaps the

to behave exactly like a Baba Yaga

first “Ivan” in this tale was a mistake—

herself.

the person recording it was so used to

76. The word in Russian is chezhelko.

the third brother being named Ivan that

77. The word in Russian is navokhrili,

he or she heard it wrong the first time it

glossed by Afanas’ev as nakolotili, ‘ham-

was mentioned.

mered a lot.’

93. “Bread and salt” is the typical Russian

78. Bast shoes are made from an inner layer

expression for hospitality.

of birch or linden bark; they were worn

94. See note 92 above.

by Russian peasants who could not

95. Like the hero’s name “Ivashko,” rather

afford shoes of leather.

than the more typical Russian “Ivan,”

79. A lovely dialect word for clothing, lopot’.

the spelling ‘Yega’ suggests that this tale

80. Like Beloy Polyanin, Bel Belyanin’s

was collected in a western part of the

name tells us that he is white—perhaps

Russian empire.

silver-haired—with age.
96. Here and in some other places later in

81. Zlatokos means literally “Goldenhair”—

this story the word Yaga is turned into

almost “Goldilocks.”

an adjective, yagaia.

82. The Russian verbs for hearing and

97. Russians traditionally did not celebrate

smelling are the same, perhaps reflecting

birthdays, but instead the feast day of

that hearing and smell are more passive

the saint a person was named after. In

senses than sight, touch, and taste.

this tale, we see a name day although we

83. The dialect word diuzhe, glossed as

never learn the old woman’s name.

ochen’.

98. Kvass is a slightly sweet, slightly

84. The Russian saying in this case means

alcoholic, traditional Russian drink

“the old woman said yes and no,”

made from fermented rye bread and

a reminder of old women’s role in

sometimes raisins or other fruit.

fortune-telling.

99. As noted before, the Russian word

85. “Through,” not “around,” suggesting that

krasnyi means both ‘red’ and ‘beautiful.’

the teller thought of the world as flat.

196

I N DEX

adolescents, xl, xli

Bilibin, Ivan, ix, xxi, xxix, l, li, 2, 133, 173, 174,

Afanas’ev, Aleksandr, ix, xiii–xiv, xl, xlii, xliv,

175, 176, 180

liii, 10, 185n1, 187n23, 187–88n9

birch tree, 5, 6, 89, 90, 91, 92, 176, 195n69,

“Again the Stepmother and the

196n78

Stepmother’s Daughter,” x
bird(s), xxii, xxvi, xxvii, xxxiii, xxxv, xxxvi,

Alexeieff, Alexander, xlii, 10, 12, 13

xxxvii, xxxix, xliii, xlvii, 9, 11, 28, 36,

animals, xxxiii, xxxix, xlvii, 37–38, 74, 79, 87,

37–38, 43, 44, 56, 57, 66, 70, 73, 74–75,

189n25

79, 80–82, 83, 96, 97, 110–15, 134, 138,

Ankarloo, Ben, liii, 185n1

159, 160, 163–64, 167, 168, 186n9, 189n25,

apple(s), xxix, xxxvi, xliii, 45, 83, 89, 90, 91,

192n54

110, 128, 129, 130; tree(s), xlii, 84, 89, 91,

blacksmith, 15, 45, 104, 191n43

92, 110, 128, 130; of youth, xxxvi, 145, 146,

blood, viii, xi, xii, 22, 64, 65, 71, 89, 98, 104,

195n73

190n29

Arnold, Katya, liv

Bly, Robert, xlviii, liii

audience, xvii, xviii, xlv

bogatyr, xxvi, 16, 56, 59, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76,

aunt, 5, 6, 8, 93, 135, 194n59

78, 85–88, 99, 116–21, 141, 142, 143, 153,

awl, 77, 80

154, 160, 187n24, 187n9, 190n32, 192n54,

196n73

Baba Yaga: cannibalistic, viii, xii, xxxv,

Bogatyrev, Pëtr, xvii, xviii

xxxvi, xliii, 22, 46, 177, 178; her bone(s), xxvi, xxix, xxxi, xxxvi, 4, 6,
11, 12, 16,

daughter(s), xxiii, xxxv, xxxviii, xliii,

69, 81, 120–21, 125–26, 132, 134, 140, 141,

xlvii, 11, 12, 17, 18, 69, 75, 78, 87, 192n54;

142, 143–44, 145, 146, 147, 163, 164, 174,

etymology, xxii–xxiii

175, 192n49, 195n60

“Baba Yaga and the Kid,” 187n1

book, 29, 33, 35, 38, 194n56

Balakov, Slav, lv

Bosch, Hieronymus, 76

Balina, Marina, liii

bread, 5, 6, 24, 54, 86, 118–20, 123, 124, 128,

ball, 24, 26, 35, 36, 149, 150, 151, 152, 163; of

169, 176, 196n98; and salt, xxxi, 162,

cotton, 47, 48, 91; of thread/string, xxxi,

196n93

xxxvi, 45, 46, 47, 62, 74, 104, 105, 111, 113,

bride(s), xli, 16, 17, 23, 24, 67, 78, 116, 117, 161,

126, 188n25

162, 163, 170, 188n10, 191n44

ball (dance), 60, 66

bridge, xxxi, 18, 36, 56, 58, 83, 86, 139, 159,

bathhouse, xxxi, xxxix, xli, 3, 5, 17, 127, 132,

160, 195n72

134

broom, viii, xxviii, xxix, 7, 9, 26, 39, 58, 130,

bear(s), x, xxiii, 79–82, 83, 84, 93, 95, 126,

175, 176, 177

127, 192n48, 193n56, 196n90

brother(s), x, xxxvi, xxxviii, 11, 13, 14, 16,

“Bear Tsar, The, ” 79–82

18, 39, 41, 52, 54, 63, 64, 65, 67–68, 71,

beast bridegroom, x

74–75, 77, 86, 89–91, 96, 100, 110, 111,

beer, 8, 55, 65, 92, 115, 160, 164, 176, 191n45

114, 115, 116, 117, 118, 119, 124, 125, 128–30,

Bel Belyanin, 149, 186n80

135, 137, 138, 147, 148, 150, 154–55, 157,

Beloy Polyanin, 72, 73, 74, 75–76, 77, 78,

158, 159, 160, 161, 163, 164, 186n9, 187n9,

191n42, 191n43

191n36, 191n44, 193n56, 195n72, 196n92;

Benois, Alexandre, xx

brother(s)-in-law, 52, 55, 190n32

Bibikov, Viktor, viii, 25, 26

“Brother, The,” xviii, xxviii, xxxvi, xlii

197

Index

Brown, Ruth, liv

doll, xxxviii, xl, xliv, xlvi, liv, 68, 136, 170, 171,
brush, xxxi, 70, 112, 113, 187n9

172, 173, 174, 177, 178, 179, 181, 182, 195n66

bull, 7, 65, 76; bullock, 81–83, 192n49

Dostoevsky, Fyodor, l

butterfly, xxii

dragon(s), x, lv, 65, 66, 78, 83, 84, 114, 142,

Bychkov, Aleksei Aleksandrovich, 53

150, 151, 152–53, 161–62, 190n29, 190n30,

Bykova, Katherine, 129

191n44, 195–96n73

duck/drake, xxvi, 73, 83, 86, 126, 127, 168,

Campbell, Joseph, 186n10

169, 188n17, 188n18

carpet, x, xxix, xxxv, 29–30, 66, 87, 98, 99,

118, 122, 124. See also flying carpet

eagle, x, xxvii, xlii, xliii, 50, 52, 55, 59, 81, 90,

cat, xxviii, xxxviii, xl, xliii, xlv, 5, 6, 9, 11, 37,

92, 163, 164, 190n32, 191n44

47, 48, 90, 91, 92, 93, 96, 97, 186n9

egg, xxvi, xlviii, l, 14, 22, 45, 66, 105, 107, 127,
cattle, 79, 93, 115

136, 169, 187n26

cave, 39, 40, 149, 150

Elena the Beautiful, 151, 152, 155, 157–60

censorship, ix, xvii

Chandler, Robert, xv, liii, 185n2

falcon, 19–27, 50, 52, 55, 59, 72, 73, 76, 78,

chest. See trunk

80–81, 102–8, 133, 140, 188n16, 190n32

chicken(s), xxvii, 80, 172; leg(s), viii, xxvii,

Farina, Corrado, lv

xliv, 3, 22, 23, 24, 46, 47, 62, 69, 83, 90, 91,

Fasmer, Max, xxiii, 185n1, 185n2

111, 112, 121, 125, 126, 129, 132, 135, 136, 163,

father(s), x, xxiv, xxxviii, 3, 4, 5, 8, 14, 15, 16,

166, 168, 186n12, 188n25

19, 20, 21, 23, 50, 60, 61, 64, 75, 80, 98,

children’s books, viii, xx, xliv, liv

102, 103, 108, 109, 110, 111, 114, 115, 117, 118,

church, Christian, viii, 20, 21, 108, 109

119, 120, 123, 124, 126, 128, 131, 134, 136, 137,

Cinderella, x, xl

138, 139, 140, 144, 145, 148, 149, 155, 160,

cobbler(s), 77, 156, 157, 158, 159, 160

161, 166, 171, 181, 182, 185n3; father(s)-in-comb, xxxi, xxxii, 6, 7,

70, 82, 112, 113, 182,

law, 117

187n9

Father Frost, xl, liv

copper, 112, 113, 150, 151, 155, 157, 160, 162, 163

feather, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 27, 36, 102, 103, 108,

Cossack, 76

109, 110, 146, 168

cows, 93

Ferguson, Cynthia, 183

Craft, Kinuko Y., xlix, liv

field, xxviii, xliii, 14, 51, 57, 65, 72, 73, 74,

crow, 115

76, 83, 96, 97, 103, 126, 128, 129, 137, 146,

147, 150, 166, 168, 188n25, 191n42, 191n43,

daughter(s), xxiii, xxiv, xxxiv, xxxv, xxxvi,

193n56, 195n72

xxxvii, xxxviii, xl, xliii, xlv, xlvii, l, 3, 4,

Figurin, Alexei, 31

5, 8, 11, 12, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 37, 38, 40,

Finist the Bright Falcon, x, 19–27, 102–5,

60, 61, 67, 69, 70, 72, 75, 78, 87, 89, 102,

107–8, 133, 186n12, 188n16

103, 105, 107, 108, 109, 114, 116, 117, 123,

fire, xxviii, xxxi, xxxviii, xxxix, xliv, 18, 24, 26,

128, 132, 134, 168, 170, 172, 173, 175, 179,

44, 56, 59, 65, 70, 82, 88, 96, 98, 126, 132,

180, 182, 187n22, 187n9, 188n18, 192n54;

134, 143, 151, 152, 154, 158, 159, 173, 175,

daughter(s)-in-law, 93–94, 118, 119, 120,

176, 179, 180, 195n72

121, 122, 125

Firebird, 110–14, 115, 138, 167, 168

death, xxvi, xxxi, xxxii, xxxiii, xxxiv, xxxv,

fish, xxxiii, 38, 126, 127, 165, 166

xxxviii, xxxix, xli, xlii, xliii, xliv, xlvii,

flying carpet, x, xxix, xxxv, 66, 98–99, 122

xlviii, 34, 36, 39, 44, 48, 58, 74, 75, 127,

forest, viii, xxiii, xxvi, xxviii, xxxi, xxxiii,

142, 170, 179, 186n19, 186n21, 190n29,

xxxix, xl, xliii, xliv, xlv, xlvii, xlviii, 3, 4, 6,

191n36, 196n73

7, 9, 11, 14, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 28, 29, 37, 38,

deer/stag, xlv, 32, 33, 34, 35

41, 44, 46, 47, 48, 56, 57, 60, 61, 62, 69, 73,

devil(s), viii, xxxiv, 43, 69, 98, 111, 112, 159

74, 82, 83, 86, 91, 96, 98, 112, 113, 116, 125,

Dobrin, Evgeny Yurievich, 130

128, 129, 132, 135, 136, 142, 149, 172, 174,

dog, xxx, xl, 4, 5, 6, 34, 83, 84, 93, 94,

192n49

175, 180, 186n20, 188n9, 192n48, 194n56

198

Index

fork, 11, 52
145, 146, 147, 149, 150, 174, 175, 178, 181, , fortune telling, xxxix–
xl, 196n84

187n9, 187n24, 190n32, 190n35, 191n36,

fox, 67

192n48, 193n56, 196n56; winged, 135

Friday, xxxiii–xxxiv, xxxvii

Hubbs, Joanna, vii, xxxi, xxxii, xlix, liii,

frog, xxxi, 38–39, 40, 41, 116–21, 123–25, 126,

185n4

134, 189n25

husband, xxxi, xli, 3, 4, 25, 28, 29, 31, 33, 35,

“Frog Princess, The,” xxvi, xxviii, 142

36, 64, 96, 97, 100, 101, 105, 107, 108, 117,

118

geese, xxvii, xliii, liv, 73, 80, 120, 128–31

“Geese and Swans, The,” xviii, xxxvi, 130

idol, 163, 164

Gilchrist, Cherry, vii, xlix, liii

incest, x, xi, xxxviii, 67

Gimbutas, Maria, xlix, 187n25

invisible hat, xxiv, 61, 63, 64, 65, 73, 98–99,

God, viii, 14, 19, 20, 22, 23, 24, 28, 35, 39, 46,

100, 101

48, 50, 51, 59, 60, 62, 65, 67, 68, 72, 73, 85,

Ivan, xxiv, xl, 45, 116–22, 191n38, 192n46;

90, 91, 104, 105, 108, 111, 112, 126, 136, 141,

Ivan-Bogatyr, 116–22; the Merchant’s

148, 149, 150, 152, 153, 162, 163, 178, 185n8,

Son, 165–69; Zapechnik, 161, 196n92;

188n12, 188n25

Ivanusha, 45, 130

goddess, vii, xi, xii, xxxii, xxxiii, xxxiv, xxxv,

Ivanits, Linda, vii, liii, 186n20

xxxix, xli, xlix, 187n25

Ivanov, Viacheslvav V. , xlvii

“Go I Don’t Know Where, Bring I Don’t

Ivashko Zapechnik, 161–64, 196n92, 196n95

Know What,” xxxi, xxxix

gold(en), x, xxix, xxxiv, xxxv, xxxvi, xxxix,

Jack Frost. See Father Frost

xliii, xlv, liv, 21, 23, 24, 25, 26, 32, 33, 34,
Jakobson, Roman, xvii, xviii, xlii

35, 41, 43, 45, 62, 66, 69, 70, 72, 73, 74, 75,

Johns, Andreas, vii, xxxiv, xlvi, liii

76, 77, 78, 101, 103, 104, 105, 107, 108, 110,

Jungian, xli, xlviii, 187n24

112, 117, 118, 124, 129, 137, 145, 151–52, 155,

158, 159, 160, 162, 163, 164, 188n16, 188n20,

Kazak, Valdemar (von), viii, xvi, 37

190n30, 191n43, 196n87

Kemp, Moira, liv

grandfather/granddad, 74, 76, 194n59

kerchief, xxxi, 19, 62, 102, 189n25

grandmother, xxii, xxxiv, 17, 31, 34, 178;

Khudiakov, Ivan, ix, xiii, xiv, xlii, 185n1,

granny, 23, 24, 46, 48, 56, 90, 91, 99, 100,

191n40, 192n55, 195n61, 195n70, 195n71

104, 105, 164, 175, 177, 178, 181, 188n25,

Kimmel, Eric, liv

194n59

king, xxiv, xxxviii, 28–36, 43, 44, 61, 72,

groom, x, 117, 188n10

73, 95, 100–101, 116, 117–20, 122, 185n3,

Guterman, Norbert, xlii, liii, 10, 187n1

188n16, 188n18, 188n23, 188–89n25

knife (knives), 21, 22, 71, 104

handkerchief, xxxi, 5, 6, 18, 56, 58, 110, 112,

Kononenko, Natalie, 186n18

113, 125, 128, 190n35

Koshchei the Deathless, x, xxvi, 51–52, 54,

Haney, Jack, ix, x, liii

55, 56, 59, 125, 126, 127, 186n19, 187n24,

hare, xxxvi, 126, 127, 168

190n32, 191n35, 191n36

Henningsen, Gustav, xii, liii, 185n1

Kritov, Fedor, 155

hero, xxiv, xxv, xxvi, xxix, xxxi, xxxiii, xxxv,

kvass, 137, 176, 196n98

xxxvi, xxxvii, xxxviii, xxxix, xli, xlvii, li,

77, 191n46, 196n95

lacquer boxes (Palekh, etc.), li, 31, 33, 58, 129,

heroine, xxiv, xxviii, xxix, xxxi, xxxiv, xxxv,

155

xxxviii, xxxix, xl, xli, xlii, 130, 173, 185n3,

Lent, Blair, liv

191n46, 194n58

lice, xxxii, 26, 90, 91

horse, xxvi, xxxv, xxxvi, xxxviii, 16, 17, 18,

Lien, Annbjørg, xliv

21, 24, 26, 54, 55, 56–58, 59, 72, 73, 74,

lion(s), 112, 113, 136; lioness, 56, 57

75, 76, 77, 79, 83, 86, 95, 96, 108, 111, 112,

Lipovetsky, Mark, liii

118, 125, 135, 136, 137, 140, 141, 142, 144, Lloyd, Megan, liv

199

Index

lubok, xviii, 2, 76, 77, 113, 195n64

nephew, 149

Lurie, Alison, liv

niece, 5, 6, 93, 188n25

nose, viii, xxv, xxxiv, xlvii, 2, 23, 24, 32, 70, 83,

magic, x, xii, xxiv, xxviii, xxix, xxxi, xxxv,

111, 112, 127

xxxviii, xl, xliii, 25, 26, 29, 33, 35, 38, 62,

96, 155, 172, 186n16, 190n28, 190n35,

oak tree, 52, 70, 78, 93, 125, 127, 144, 147, 168,

191n39

169, 190n32

magic tablecloth, x, 61, 62, 64

Oram, Hiawyn, liv

Malakhovskaia, Anna Natal’ia, xlix–l

Oreck, Jessica, xlv

Mar’ia Morevna, xxiv, xxvi, xxxvi, 51, 52,

Orleanskii, Aleksei, 125

54–56, 59, 167, 185n3, 186n9, 186n19,

187n24, 190n35

pagan, vii, ix, xi, xii, xxxiii, 22, 186n12

marriage/wedding, xxxviii, xxxix, xl, xli, xlii,

Paraskeva, Saint, xxxiii, xxxiv, xxxvii, xli, xlix

68, 71, 116, 117, 144, 165, 188n16

parthenogenesis, viii, xxiv, xlvii, 187n22

Marshall Carey, Bonnie, liv

peasant(s), ix, x, xii, xviii, xxii, xxv, xxviii,

Mary, Mother of God, xlix, 188n12

xxix, xxxi, xxxiii, xxxix, xli, xlv, 160,

Maslov, Vladislav, 58

186n17, 189n25, 193n56, 196n78

Maxwell-Stuart, P. G., liii

Pekar, Vladimir, lv

Mayer, Marianna, viii, xlix, liv

Peter the Great, xviii, 76

McCaughrean, Geraldine, liv

pike (fish), 126, 127

mead, 8, 59, 92, 139, 160, 176, 188n16

pillar, 16, 38, 111, 114, 135, 137, 145, 146

meadow(s), 14, 15, 45, 57, 58, 89, 116, 147,

pin, 21, 25, 26, 87, 97, 165, 166, 168, 173

195n69

Pinkola Estés, Clarissa, xlviii–xlix, liv

Medvedeva, Antonina, xxviii

pipe, xviii, xxxi, 2, 156, 158

merchant, 29, 30, 41, 42, 43, 96, 123, 165, 166,

Platonov, Andrei, l

170, 172, 190n26, 193–94n56

Polacco, Patricia, liv

mice, xxxviii, 3–4

prayer(s), 29, 32, 35, 46, 48, 72, 73, 85, 90, 91,

Middle East, x

93, 94, 162, 163, 177, 188n12

Mignola, Mike, xxix, 15, 16, 17, 18

prince(s), xxiv, xxviii, xxxii, 27, 74, 100, 101,

Mitrokhin, Dimitri, viii, xxx

103, 108, 116, 120, 121, 135–39, 143, 144,

Mokosh, xxxiii, xlix

147–48, 155, 160. See also Prince Ivan

monster, 38, 186n21, 191n36

Prince Danila Govorila, x, xxxviii, 67–68,

mortar and pestle, viii, xxi, xxviii, xxix, xxx,

191n41, 195n66

xxxvii, 7, 9, 17, 26, 58, 130, 175, 177, 178,

Prince Ivan, xxvi, xxvii, xxxvi, xxxviii, 50–59,

188n13

61–66, 72–78, 79–84, 110–15, 123–27,

mother(s), vii, viii, xvi, xxvii, xxxi, xxxii,

140–44, 145–48, 149–60, 186n9, 186n19,

xxxiii, xxxviii, xli, xlii, xliii, xlv, xlix, l, 4,

187n24, 190n29, 190n30, 190n32, 190n33,

5, 14, 16, 21, 37, 45, 50, 64, 67, 69, 75, 76,

190n35, 191n36, 191n43, 191n44, 192n48,

80, 85, 87, 89, 90, 93, 105, 108, 113, 127, 128,

195n69, 196n87

130, 131, 132, 134, 136, 138, 139, 143, 144,

“Prince Ivan and Beloy Polyanin,” xxxviii,

147, 148, 149, 150, 151, 152, 153, 154, 155,

191n44

160, 161, 168, 170, 171, 173, 178; mother(s)-

princess(es), xxiv, xxvii, 21, 23, 25–27, 50, 51,

in-law, xxxix, xli, 40, 41, 93

52, 54, 67, 95, 118, 187n24, 193n56

Mother Earth, viii, xxxiii, xlix

Princess Katerina, 67–71

mushroom, xx, xl, xlv, 14, 125

Princess Mar’ia, 79–84, 191n46, 192n48

Mussorgsky, Modest, xliv

Propp, Vladimir, xxxv, xl, xliii, xlvii, liv,

186n10

Nanitchkov, Aleksandr, 7

Pushkin, Aleksandr, 155

Nastasia Zlatokos, 149–53, 196n81

needle, xxvi, xxxix, 5, 8, 69, 77, 104, 105, 107,

queen, xxxii, xxxiii, 21, 31, 36, 44, 56, 78,

127, 136, 173, 181, 190n26

96–97, 99, 100, 101, 120, 125

200

Index

Ralston, W. R. S., liv

Simonov, Pyotr, xxiv, liii

Rasputin, Valentin, l

sister(s), vii, xxiii, xxviii, xxxi, xxxiv, xxxvi,

raven, 51, 52, 54, 55, 59, 112, 115, 190n32,

5, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 27, 37, 47, 50, 51, 60,

191n47

61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67–68, 69, 70, 71,

ring(s), xxxi, xxxii, xxxviii, 67, 71, 151, 152,

72–73, 74, 83, 90, 91, 92, 93, 99, 102, 103,

165, 196n87

104, 105, 108, 109, 111, 112, 121, 129, 135,

rituals, ix, xi, xvii, xviii, xxiii, xxvii, xxxi,

136, 145, 151, 155, 160, 165, 167, 169, 185n7,

xxxiv, xxxix, xl, xli, xlii, xlvii, xlviii, xlix,

192n48

186n16

skull, xxvi, xxviii, xxix, xxxviii, xliv, 18, 22,

river, xxxi, xxxii, xliv, 6, 29, 36, 39, 40, 41, 56,

125, 174, 176, 177, 179, 180

58, 67, 86, 112, 128, 130, 132, 188n9, 195n72

Small, Ernest, liv

Rogers, Forest, 46, 138, 142, 171

Smedman, Lisa, 84
Rou, Aleksandr, xl, xlv, liv, 142

smell, xxxvi, 3, 23, 24, 46, 48, 64, 65, 69, 83,

Rus’, xxxiii, xxxv, xxxvi, xlvii, 11, 64, 69, 163,

87, 90, 91, 111, 112, 132, 140, 146, 154, 168,

164, 186n11, 192n54

175, 188n14, 196n82

rusalka, x, xxxii, xlix, 125

snuffbox, 54, 190n26

Russian bone, 140, 145, 146, 163, 164

Sokolov, Y. M., liv

Russian smell, 3, 23, 24, 46, 48, 64, 65, 83,

soldier(s), xxxviii, 30, 43, 44, 60, 77, 95–101,

87, 90, 91, 111, 112, 132, 145, 146, 151, 154,

150, 191n43, 192n56, 194n56

168, 175

son(s), xxiv, xlv, 16, 19, 20, 45, 50, 61, 67, 72,

Russian spirit, 23, 46, 48, 62, 64, 65, 83, 87,

85, 89, 93, 100, 101, 110, 111, 115, 116, 117, 118,

111, 112, 121, 135, 136, 151, 154, 166, 188n14

119, 120, 123, 124, 128, 135, 138, 139, 140,

Rybakov, Boris, xxxii, 185n5

143, 144, 145, 147, 148, 149, 153, 154, 160,

161, 165, 166, 167, 168, 169, 186n15, 188n16,

Scheiner, Artus, 40, 42

190n32, 193–94n56; son(s)-in-law, 37, 38

sea(s), xxiv, xxvi, xxviii, xxxi, xxxii, xxxiii,

sorcerer, 60

xxxviii, xliii, xliv, 15, 16, 18, 23, 24, 26, 32,

Souhami, Jessica, liv

33, 38, 41, 43, 44, 55, 57, 60, 65, 70, 82,

sparrow, 9, 11, 132, 134

86, 97, 98, 99, 100, 126, 127, 153, 154, 159,

spindle (heels), xxvii, xxxiii, xxxix, 3, 90, 91,

160, 165, 166, 168, 185n3, 188n17, 189n25,

104, 105, 145, 195n69

190n32, 190n34, 192n48, 195n67

spinning, xxvii, xxxiii, xxxiv, xxxvii, xxxix,

servant, xxxvi, xxxvii, xxxviii, xliv, 5, 6, 18, 21,

xliv, xlix, 3, 45, 47, 91, 104, 105, 140, 145,

22, 25, 31, 34, 37, 38, 40, 41, 43, 46, 71, 73,
172, 181

74, 105, 107, 108, 117, 118, 130, 146, 175, 177,

spoon, 9, 11, 52, 192n49

178, 182, 188n16

stepchild, xi

seven-league boots, 61, 98

stepdaughter, xxxvi, xxxix, xl, 3, 132, 134,

sharpening teeth, xxix, xxxiv, xxxvi, xxxix,

195n70

70, 93, 127, 168

stepmother, x, xi, xxxiv, xxxvi, xxxviii, xxxix,

sheep, 93

xl, xli, xliv, 4, 5, 8, 132, 134, 165, 166, 170,

ship, 32, 33, 34, 41, 42, 43, 44, 137, 138, 139,

171, 172, 173, 175, 179, 180, 195n70

144, 165, 166

stepsister, xxxvi, xl, xliv, 170, 179

Shirokov, Anatolii, 172

stove, xxv, xxxi, xxxix, xlii, 3, 9, 11, 12, 13,

shirt, 5, 8, 117, 181, 182, 185n25

47, 48, 68, 70, 85, 89, 90, 91, 92, 105, 111,

shitty bullock, 81–82

112, 119, 127, 128, 131, 132, 172, 176, 187n4,

Shmat-Razum, xxiv, xxvi, 39–41, 43, 188n21

187n7, 189n25, 196n91

shuttle, 181; heels, 46, 47

swamp, xxvii, 29, 90, 91, 116, 123, 125

sibling(s), xi, xliii, 130

swan(s), xxiv, xxvi, xxvii, xliii, 73, 120, 125,

sieve, 6, 134

126, 128, 129, 130, 145, 146, 147, 148,

silver, xxxix, 52, 54, 55, 62, 66, 69, 73, 74, 104,

195n66, 195n69

105, 107, 112, 118, 124, 137, 151, 155, 157, 160,

sword/saber, 32, 35, 59, 72, 73, 75, 76, 77, 78,

162, 163

153, 154, 166, 191n43, 194n56

201

Index
tablecloth, x, 61, 62, 64, 78, 125

Vasilisa the Wise, 121–22, 123, 124, 125, 126,

tailors, 76, 77, 158

127, 195n69

tale-tellers, xiv, xvii, xliii

Vasnetsov, Viktov, viii, xxxv

tavern, 32, 157, 158, 159, 193–94n56

“Three Kingdoms—Copper, Silver and

Walker, Barbara G., xlix, 187n25

Gold, The,” x, xviii, xxxi–xxxii, xxxiii

water, xxvi, xxvii, xxxi, xxxii, xl, 6, 20, 36, 41,

threes, vii, x, xix, xxvi, xxviii, xxxi, xxxiii,

51, 54, 57, 69, 78, 79, 83, 93, 105, 119, 120,

xxxiv, xxxviii, xxxix, 9, 19, 23, 32, 36, 41,

125, 132, 134, 140, 146, 150, 152, 153, 171,

43, 47, 50, 52, 54, 55, 56, 58, 61, 62, 66,

188n17, 188n25, 190n32, 192n49, 195n67;

72, 83, 84, 89, 95, 97, 98, 100, 102, 104,

of death/dead water, 55, 138, 186n19,

105, 107–8, 110, 111, 112, 114, 116, 117, 118,

195–96n73; healing, 190n32; of life/living

121, 122, 123, 124, 126, 135, 137, 138, 140,

water, viii, 55, 138, 145, 146, 147, 186n19,

142, 143, 145, 149–60, 161, 166, 168, 172,

190n32, 195–96n73; strengthening, 87,

175, 177, 178, 179, 185n8, 186n9, 190n29,

153, 154; weakening, 87, 153, 154; of youth,

190n32, 192–94n56, 194n58, 196n73

135, 136, 137

Toporov, Vladimir N., xlvii

weaving, xxxvii, xxxviii, xxxix, 5–6, 93, 124,

towel, xxxi, 6, 7, 35, 36–37, 70, 82, 83,

181, 191n43

187–88n9, 188n25, 195n72

whirlwind, viii, 33, 38, 41, 43, 50, 51, 52, 60,

tree(s), xxvi, xxvii, xxviii, xxxii, xlii, xliv, xlvii,

62, 63, 64, 65, 97, 100, 149, 151, 152, 153,

5, 6, 23, 28, 43, 52, 70, 83, 84, 85, 89, 90,

154, 155, 156, 158

91, 92, 96, 97, 100, 110, 127, 128, 130, 159,
whistle, xvii, xxvi, 70, 73, 74, 97, 99, 100, 108,

160, 169, 175, 176, 177, 190n32, 192n48,

114, 155, 156, 157, 159, 177, 189n25, 194n56

192n51, 195n69

White Swan Zakhar’evna, xxiv, 145, 146–48

Tronge, Clive, lv

widow, xlv, 170

trunk (chest), xxvi, 48, 64, 92, 127, 134, 168,

wife, xviii, xxxi, xxxix, xli, 3, 4, 5, 8, 27, 28, 29,

169

30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 43, 44, 52, 54,

tsar, xix, xxiv, xxxix, xlix, 37, 43, 60, 66, 72,

60, 61, 67, 75, 76, 78, 79, 107, 120, 121, 123,

78, 79, 80, 82, 83, 100, 101, 110, 114, 115,

124, 127, 132, 149, 161, 165, 170, 172, 182,

123, 124, 125, 126, 135, 138, 139, 140, 141,

188n25, 191n44

143, 144, 145, 147, 148, 149, 157, 160, 181,

wine, 33–34, 39, 41, 95, 100, 109, 115, 139, 151,

182, 188n16, 188n23, 192n56; bear, 79–82,

154, 156, 157, 158, 159, 176, 188n16, 189n25,

192n48, 192n56; dragon, 78

193–94n56

tsaritsa, 61, 79, 80, 123, 135, 149, 150, 151, 153,

witch, vii, viii, ix, xi, xii, xiii, xix, xxi, xxviii,

154, 155

xxix, xxxiv, xxxvi, xxxix, xliii, liii, 17, 46,

Tsar-Maiden, xlviii, 64, 65, 137, 138, 139,

67, 69–70, 93, 185n2, 187n9; etymology,

140–44, 165–69

xxii

Turgenev, Ivan, 186n17

wolf (wolves), 74, 83, 84, 93, 190n32, 193n56

Tyukanov, Sergei, 77

wonder tales, ix, x, xii, xxxi, xxxiv, xxxv,

xxxviii, xxxix, xlv, xlvi, xlvii, xlix, 185n3,

Ugarov, Valery, lv

186n10, 186n19

Ugrešić, Dubravka, xlviii, l, liv, 187n26

Woodman, Marion, xlviii, liii

uncle, 138, 143, 147, 148, 149–50, 165, 194n59

underground kingdom, 69–70, 87–88,

Yagishna, xxiii, xxxviii, 12, 145, 146, 147,

162–64

196n75

“Young Man and the Apples of Youth, The,”

variants, xiv, xviii, xxxv

xxiv, xxviii

Vasilisa the Beautiful, ix, x, xxiv, xxix, xxxvi,

xxxviii, xliv, xlvi, xlviii–xlix, l, 31, 46, 142,

Zamirailo, Viktor, 97

167, 170–82

Zvorykin, Boris, ix, xlvii, 167

202
Document Outline
Cover
Contents
FOREWORD: Unfathomable Baba Yagas
PREFACE, ACKNOWLEDGMENTS, AND TRANSLATOR’S
NOTE
INTRODUCTION: Baba Yaga: The Wild Witch of the East
BRIEF BIBLIOGRAPHY FOR FURTHER READING
Tales of Baba Yaga
“Baba Yaga I”
“Baba Yaga II”
“Baba Yaga and the Kid”
“Baba-Yaga and the Runt”
“Finist the Bright Falcon II”
“Go I Don’t Know Where, Bring I Don’t Know What”
“Ivanushka”
“Mar’ia Morevna”
“Moon and Star”
“Prince Danila-Govorila”
“Prince Ivan and Beloy Polyanin”
“The Bear Tsar”
“The Bogatyrs Soska, Usynia, Gorynia, and Duginia”
“The Brother”
“The Daughter-in-Law”
“The Enchanted Princess”
“The Feather of Finist the Bright Falcon”
“The Firebird”
“The Frog and the Bogatyr”
“The Frog Princess”
“The Geese and Swans”
“The Stepdaughter and the Stepmother’s Daughter”
“The Tale of the Daring Young Man and the Apples of Youth”
“The Tale of the Fine Young Man and the Apples of Youth”
“The Tale of the Fine Young Man and the Apples of Youth II”
“The Three Kingdoms”
 “The Three Kingdoms—Copper, Silver, and Gold”
“The Tsar-Maiden”
“Vasilisa the Beautiful”
Notes
Index
A
B
C
D
E
F
G
H
I
J
K
L
M
N
O
P
Q
R
S
T
U
V
W
Y
Z