Russian Magic Tales from Pushkin to Platonov (Penguin Classics) (4 page)

‘All right!’ said the priest.

‘Move in right now!

This will suit both of us

down to the ground!

Show me your zeal –

and it’s a done deal!’

Balda slept on straw;

he ate as much as four men

and worked like seven.

By dawn’s first glow

he was on the go.

He cleaned the stable,

harnessed the mare

and ploughed the field;

he went to the fair;

he lit the stove

and laid the table;

he boiled a hen’s egg

and even peeled it.

Everything went

without a stumble or stutter –

like a knife through butter.

Our priest’s good wife

sang Balda’s praises

all day and all night.

Our priest’s dear daughter

sighed for him

all night and all day.

And to the little boy-priestlet

he cared for and dandled

Balda

was ‘Da-Da’.

Only the priest

was not entranced,

nor the least inclined

to be lovey-dovey.

A threat

hung over his forehead.

He was in debt

and pay day

was not far away.

He couldn’t eat, sleep or drink.

A furrow – a crack or a chink? –

lay on his brow.

He spoke, at last, to his wife,

who came straight out

with a wily ruse:

‘I’ll tell you what you can do!

Set him a task he can never fulfil,

something well and truly

impossible!

That’s the charm

that will shield your forehead

from harm.

That’s the way

to escape having to pay!’

Emboldened,

the priest said to Balda,

‘Listen to me, my trusty servant:

a band of devils are meant

to be paying me quit-rent

for the rest of my life.

Once it was a splendid income,

but now the devils

are years in arrears.

Go and have a word with them,

talk some sense into them

when you’ve eaten your porridge.

Call the wretches to account –

and mind you collect

not a kopek less

than the full amount.’

Obedient,

without argument,

off Balda went

to the sea shore.

There he began whirling

and twirling a rope, dipping

one end in the deep, rippling

the water, whipping up waves

where the sea,

only a moment before,

had been

flat, calm and on the level.

Up crawled an old devil:

‘What’s brought you here, Balda?’

‘I’m just starting a few ripples,

roughing up the sea a little,

twisting the sand,

making a few waves break.

We’ve had all we can take,

you see,

of you and your wretched clan!’
¹

‘What have we done?’

the devil asked gravely.

‘Why, all of a sudden,

have we fallen

from favour?’

‘You’re in debt,’ said Balda,

‘years behind with your rent.

So I’m going to let rip

with this rope

and teach you curs a lesson

you won’t forget.’

‘My dear Balda, my good friend,

don’t do anything rash!

You shall have all your cash –

my own grandson will deliver it.’

In less than a moment

a young devillet

slipped out of the water.

‘Should be a pushover!’

laughed Balda.

‘I can twist this mewling kitten

of a devil-imp

round my little finger!’

‘Good day, dear Balda!

What’s this I’ve just heard

about quit-rent?

That’s a delight we devils

have always been spared.

Still, have it your own way!

I don’t want you to have hard feelings

or think us unfair.

Let it never be held

we devils

are mean in our dealings.

We’ll fill you a bag full of gold.

Only let’s just agree

to race round the sea –

and whoever outruns the other,

whoever’s the winner,

takes all!’

Balda laughed slyly:

‘
You
against
me
?

A devillet
chase
Balda
?

Not likely!’

Balda disappeared into the trees,

plucked two young hares

from a forest glade,

tucked them into his knapsack

and strolled slowly back.

He took one little leveret

by the tip of his ear,

lifted him

up in the air,

then addressed the devillet:

‘Look here,

little devil-imp,

you must do as I say,

you must dance as I play.

You haven’t the strength yet

to compete

against the likes of me.

That simply wouldn’t be fair.

First you must race my baby brother.

Get set, ready – quick as you can!
’

Away they ran –

the devillet along the sea shore

while the hare,

winged by fear,

fled back to his glade.

All the way around the sea

sped the devillet

and there he was again –

pink tongue hanging out,

panting, gasping,

all in a lather,

wiping the sweat off his snout

with a little paw,

but pleased, at least,

not to have to run any more

and to have put an end to this bother

with Balda.

But then what did the devillet see?

He saw Balda hugging his baby brother,

patting him on the head

and saying,

‘Well done, well done indeed!

That poor wretch

was outclassed –

he didn’t stand a chance!

But you’re tired out, you poor thing!

Now you must put your little feet up

and have a good rest!’

The devillet was astounded.

Frowning, dumbfounded,

droop-tailed,

with a sidelong glance

at Balda’s slip of a sibling,

he said

he would go fetch the rent.

Back to grandad he went.

‘I’ve been trounced,’

he announced,

‘outstripped by a stripling,

by Balda’s young brother.’

The old devil, vexed,

racked his brains,

wondering what to do next –

while Balda whipped up

such a racket

that the whole sea went crazy,

flinging waves right up to the sky.

Back to Balda went

the devillet:

‘All right, you peasant,

We’re sorting the rent.

Only – see this stick?

Choose any mark you like.

Whoever hurls this stick beyond it –

let’s say

the money’s his for the taking!

What’s up, Balda?

Why so despondent?

Afraid you might strain your shoulder?’

‘See that storm cloud over the bay?’

answered Balda.

‘When it’s blown this way,

I’ll throw your stick

right into the thick of it

and bring a storm down onto our heads.’

Scared out of his wits,

the devillet returned to his grandad

to tell him of Balda’s strange gifts

while Balda went back

to making his racket.

Back once more came the devillet.

‘What’s all this fuss?

Why all these threats?

Be patient a moment –

we’re sorting the rent.

Only first of all,

why don’t you and I just—’

‘No!’ said Balda. ‘This time it’s my turn

to name

the rules of the game –

a trifling trial

that will show us

what fibre you’re made of.

See that grey mare over there?

Just carry her up to those trees.

It’s no distance at all –

just a third of a mile.

Carry her all the way –

the rent’s yours!

But if you drop her –

it’s mine!’

The silly devillet

crept under the mare’s belly,

struggled and strained

with might and main,

strove for all he was worth –

and raised her just off the earth.

He took a step,

and a second,

and a third –

and came a cropper.

‘Silly devillet!’ said Balda.

‘When will you understand?

When will you grasp

that you’re outclassed?

You can’t even grip her between your hands

while I can lift her between my two legs!’

Balda mounted the mare

and galloped a mile.

Dust clouds

climbed high in the air.

The devillet took fright

and crept back

to admit his defeat.

His clan gathered around him –

but what could they do?

They collected their quit-rent

and threw the sack at Balda.

It was a heavy sack

and Balda grunted grunt

after heavy grunt

as he plodded back.

The priest feared for his life

and cowered behind his wife,

but there was no escaping Balda,

who proffered the gold to him

and reminded him

of what in his greed

he’d agreed.

The poor priest

presented his forehead

for three quick flicks of a finger.

The first

flung him up to the ceiling.

The second

cost him his tongue.

The third

plastered the wall with his brain.
²

And Balda said,

with disdain,

‘A cheapskate, Father, often gets more

than he bargained for.’

The old man went back to his old woman

and told her of this great wonder:

‘Today I caught a fish in my net –

no ordinary fish, but a golden fish.

The fish spoke, she spoke in our tongue;

she begged to go home, into the blue sea.

She promised me a splendid ransom;

she said she would grant whatever I wished.

But I didn’t dare take this ransom.

I set her free in the deep blue sea.’

The old woman scolded her old man:

‘Simple fool, fool of a simpleton!

What stopped you taking this ransom?

A mere fish – and you were too frightened!

You could at least have got a new washtub.

Ours is cracked right down the middle.’

Off he went towards the blue sea.

(The blue sea looked a little troubled.)

He called out to the golden fish

and the fish swam up and asked him,

‘What is it, old man, what do you want?’

The old man bowed to the fish and said,

‘Have mercy on me, Sovereign Fish.

My old woman is cursing and scolding me.

Though I am old, she gives me no peace.

She needs a new washtub, she says.

Ours is cracked right down the middle.’

The golden fish replied straight away,

‘Take heart – and God be with you!

Outside your hut you’ll find a new washtub!’

The old man went back to his old woman.

His old woman now had a new washtub,

but she was cursing more fiercely than ever:

‘Simple fool, fool of a simpleton,

all you got from the fish was a washtub.

What wealth can be found in a washtub?

Get on back, you fool, to the fish.

Bow down to the fish and say

you want a handsome house built of wood.’

Off he went towards the blue sea.

(The blue sea was a little rough.)

He called out to the golden fish

and the fish swam up and asked him,

‘What is it, old man, what do you want?’

The old man bowed to the fish and said,

‘Have mercy on me, Sovereign Fish.

My old woman is cursing and raging.

Though I am old, she gives me no peace.

She wants a handsome house built of wood.’

The golden fish replied straight away,

‘Take heart – and God be with you!

You shall have your house built of wood.’

The old man set off for his hut,

but not a trace of his hut could he find.

In its place stood a house built of wood

with a whitewashed brick chimney

and two strong gates hewn from oak.

Sitting by the window was his old woman,

swearing at him for all she was worth:

‘Simple fool, fool of a simpleton,

all you got from the fish was a house.

Get on back, you fool, to the fish.

I don’t want to be a lowly peasant.

I want to be a noble lady.’