Tales and Legends from the Land of the Tzar/Ivashko and the Witch
IVASHKO AND THE WITCH.
In a pleasant little Russian village a long, long time ago, there lived an old peasant and his wife, who had an only son, by name Ivashko, whom they dearly loved.
One bright summer morning Ivashko asked his parents to let him go fishing in a little lake hard by.
"Fishing!" exclaimed his mother, "how can so small a boy as you go a-fishing? You would surely drown yourself!"
"No, mother dear!" replied the boy, "I will not drown myself, but will bring you some fish for supper. So please let me go!"
The old woman at last consented, and, dressing him up in a little white shirt and a red sash, let him go.
Ivashko, when he came to the lake, got into his father's little boat and cried,—
Away swam the little boat, far into the middle of the lake, and Ivashko began fishing. He caught so many fish that the little boat soon became quite full. Still he went on catching more, when he suddenly heard his father's voice calling to him,—
So Ivashko said to the little boat,—
"Swim across, little boat, to the shore, for my father is calling me."
Back went the little boat to the side of the lake, where the father stood waiting. He gave his little son something to eat and drink, and then, taking all the fish out of the boat, let Ivashko go on with his fishing.
cried the boy.
When he had got to the middle he commenced fishing again, and caught still more fish than he had before.
After a little while he heard his mother's voice calling him,—
Ivashko again told his boat to swim to the shore, and, giving his mother the fish, he took his food, and returned to fishing.
It so happened that a wicked old witch had been listening to the call of the boy's parents, and wondered whether she could imitate the peasants' voices, and get Ivashko and the fish, for she was very hungry. So she went to the shore, and called out in a harsh voice,—
But Ivashko knew better. He knew that the voice was not that of his parents, but of a well-known witch; so he told his little boat to swim away from the shore and more towards the other side of the lake.
The witch, seeing that it was useless to call Ivashko unless she had a voice like his mother's, began thinking what she had better do. Then a sudden idea struck her, and she ran off to a blacksmith, and cried,—
"Blacksmith! blacksmith! make me a thin voice like that of Ivashko's mother, or I will eat you up, and not leave a bone in remembrance of you!"
The blacksmith, greatly alarmed, sat down at once to make the thin voice, leaving his other work till later.
In the evening the old witch went to the shore, and called out in the thin voice,—
The voice was so like that of Ivashko's mother that the boy thought it was she, and told the boat to swim towards the shore. But, alas! what was his horror when the witch suddenly seized him and his fish, and took them home to her hut, where she told her daughter, Alenka, to heat the stove and bake Ivashko for her dinner, while she went to invite some of her fellow-witches to make merry!
Alenka obeyed, and when the stove was heated she turned to Ivashko, and said,—
"Get on to this stove, so that I may push you in!"
"Alas!" answered the cunning boy, "I was born stupid, and know nothing, not even how to get into a stove; but if you will but show me, I daresay I shall be able to manage it then."
"All right!" replied the girl, as she jumped on to the stove.
Ivashko quickly pushed her in, and closed the stove door, letting the unfortunate girl bake in his stead! He then ran out, locking the door behind him, and climbed up an old tree that spread its leafy branches over the little hut.
Very soon Ivashko saw the witch march up to her little dwelling, accompanied by her friends, but, finding the door locked, the hag grumbled, and climbed in at the window, saying,—
"That bad girl has gone out for a walk and locked the door; but no matter, as long as she has cooked the boy I don't care, for I am hungry."
She then opened the door, and asked her guests to walk in. They all sat down and began eating away like so many hungry wolves, who had not had any food for ages!
When they had eaten everything up, so that nothing but the bones remained, they took these and threw them about under the old tree—where Ivashko sat—and began rolling about on them, as was the custom with the witches in those good old days, and then they sang,—
When Ivashko heard this he was greatly amused, and said, in a very low tone of voice,—
"I heard something very strange!" said one of the witches.
"Oh, no, it was nothing but the leaves of the tree!" returned the hostess.
And they chanted as before,—
Still Ivashko continued,—
This time all the witches heard the voice, and on looking up to the tree our friend the hag saw Ivashko sitting laughing at her, as though he enjoyed the joke! The witch, greatly enraged, flew to the tree and began biting it; but she soon broke her front teeth in doing so! However, she was not to be "done." She ran to the blacksmith, and ordered a set of iron teeth! After this she flew once more to the tree, and began to bite at it, and very soon down came the tree; but without Ivashko, for the clever boy had jumped to another, thicker than the first. On seeing this, the angry witch flew to bite that also; but the trunk was so thick that she actually broke her iron teeth over it! Away she ran to the blacksmith once more, and cried,—
"Blacksmith! blacksmith! make me another set of iron teeth, or you are a dead man!"
The smith soon got them ready, and the witch began biting the tree.
Ivashko was now at a loss what to do, when suddenly he beheld some black swans flying towards him, so he called out to them,—
But the swans replied,—
"Let the next set take the boy!"
And tossing up their proud heads, they flew haughtily away.
Soon the next set came flying: they were of a beautiful grey colour. When Ivashko saw them, he called out again,—
But these were as haughty as the first, and answered,—
"Let the other set take the boy!"
Soon a set of beautiful white swans came in sight, and Ivashko cried out to them,—
These, however, consented; they made him sit on their wings, and away they went, leaving the witch to storm and rage, and break her teeth as much as she pleased!
Away went the swans over the water, until they reached Ivashko's home. They put him down very carefully on the roof, and flew away.
Early next morning Ivashko's mother set to work baking cakes, and while doing so she said sadly to her husband,—
"Would that I knew whither our darling boy has gone! I wish I could but see him in my dreams!"
"Well, I saw him in my dream last night," answered her husband; "it seemed as though some handsome white swans brought him back to us!"
The old woman sighed, and after she had baked the cakes she began to divide them between herself and her husband, saying,—
"Well, old man—this is for you—this is for me—this is for you—and this for me!"
"And what is for me?" asked Ivashko, speaking down the chimney; for he had heard everything that had been said. "You say, 'This is for you, and this for me,' but you have quite forgotten me!"
"Good heavens!" cried the woman to her husband; "go you, and see who it is that is up on the roof!"
The man climbed up the wooden ladder leading to the roof, opened the trap door, and very soon came down again with Ivashko!
The mother gave a cry of delight, and in another moment she and her little son were locked in a warm embrace. Ivashko then told his parents all that had happened to him since last he saw them.
Great was the merriment of the peasants, who shortly after gave a feast, and Ivashko's health was drunk, and in fact everything went off properly.
The peasants lived very happily ever after with their little boy, and were troubled no more by his disappearance, and so ends the story of Ivashko and the Witch.