Russian fairy tale: Ivan and the Chestnut Horse
by
In a far land where they pay people to keep its name a profound secret, there lived an old man who brought up his three sons just exactly in the way they should go. He taught them the three R’s, and also showed them what books to read and how to read them. He was particularly careful about their education, for he had learned that to know things was to be able to do things.
At last, when he came to die, he gathered his three sons round his deathbed and cautioned them.
‘Do not forget,’ he said–‘do not forget to come and read the prayers over my grave.’
‘We will not forget, father,’ they replied.
The two elder brothers were great big, strapping fellows, but the youngest one, Ivan, was a mere stripling. As they all stood around the bed of their dying father, he looked a mere reed compared to his proud, stout, elder brothers. But his eyes were full of fire and spirit, and the firm expression of his mouth showed great determination. And, when the father had breathed his last, and his two elder brothers wept without restraint, Ivan stood silent, his pale face set and his eyes full of the bright wonder of tears that would not melt.
On the day that they buried their father, Ivan returned to the grave in the evening to read prayers over it. He had done so, and was making his way homeward, when there was a great clatter of hoofs behind him; then, as he reached the village square, the horseman pulled up and dismounted quite near to him. After blowing a loud blast on his silver trumpet–for he was the King’s messenger–he cried in a loud voice:
‘All and every man, woman and child, take notice, in the name of the King. It is the King’s will that this proclamation be cried abroad in every town and village where his subjects dwell. The King’s daughter, Princess Helena the Fair, has caused to be built for herself a shrine having twelve pillars and twelve rows of beams. And she sits there upon a high throne till the time when the bridegroom of her choice rides by. And this is how she shall know him: with one leap of his steed he reaches the height of the tower, and, in passing, his lips press those of the Princess as she bends from her throne. Wherefore the King has ordered this to be proclaimed throughout the length and breadth of the land, for if any deems himself able so to reach the lips of the Princess and win her, let him try. In the name of the King I have said it!’
The blood of the youth of the nation, wherever this proclamation was issued, took flame and leapt to touch the lips of Princess Helena the Fair. All wondered to whose lot this lucky fate would fall. Some said it would be to the most daring, others contended that it was a matter of the leaping powers of the steed, and yet others that it depended not only on the steed but on the daring skill of the rider also.
When the three brothers had listened to the words of the King’s messenger they looked at one another; at least the elder two did, for it was apparent to them that Ivan, the youngest, was quite out of the competition, whereas they, two splendid handsome fellows, were distinctly in it.
‘Brothers,’ said Ivan at last, ‘our first thought must be to fulfil our father’s dying wish. But, if you prefer it, we could take it in turns to read the prayers over our father’s grave. Let it be the duty of one of us each day to fulfil the duty, morning and evening.’
The elder brothers agreed readily to this, but, when Ivan asked whose turn it should be on the morrow, they both began to make excuses.