So Iván Tsarévich was sent out into the white world, to wander in the four directions, to suffer the midday winds and the stress of the winter and the blasts of the autumn; and was given only a birch-bark wallet and Dyád’ka, his servant.
So the King’s son set out with his servant into the open fields. They went far and wide over hill and dale. Their way may have been long, and it may have been short; and they at last reached a well. Then the Tsarévich said to his servant, “Go and fetch me water.”
“I will not go!” said the servant.
So they went further on, and they once more came to a well.
“Go and fetch me water—I feel thirsty,” the Tsarévich asked him a second time.
“I will not go.”
Then they went on until they came to a third well. And the servant again would not fetch any water. And the Tsarévich had to do it himself. When the Tsarévich had gone down into the well the servant shut down the lid, and said: “You be my servant, and I will be the Tsarévich; or I will never let you come out!”
The Tsarévich could not help himself, and was forced to give way; and signed the bond to his servant in his own blood. Then they changed clothes and rode on, and came to another land, where they went to the Tsar’s court, the servant-man first, and the King’s son after.
The servant-man sat as a guest with the Tsar, ate and drank at his table. One day he said: “Mighty Tsar, send my servant into the kitchen!”
So they took the Tsarévich as scullion, let him draw water and hew wood. But very soon the Tsarévich was a far finer cook than all the royal chefs. Then the Tsar noticed and began to like his young scullion, and gave him gold. So all the cooks became envious and sought some opportunity of getting rid of the Tsarévich. One day he made a cake and put it into the oven, so the cooks put poison in and spread it over the cake. And the Tsar sat at table, and the cake was taken up. When the Tsar was going to take it, the cook came running up, and cried out: “Your Majesty, do not eat it!” And he told all imaginable lies of Iván Tsarévich. Then the King summoned his favourite hound and gave him a bit of the cake. The dog ate it and died on the spot.
So the Tsar summoned the Prince and cried out to him in a thundering voice: “How dared you bake me a poisoned cake! You shall be instantly tortured to death!”
“I know nothing about it; I had no idea of it, your Majesty!” the Tsarévich answered. “The other cooks were jealous of your rewarding me, and so they have deliberately contrived the plot.”
Then the Tsar pardoned him, and he made him a horseherd.
One day, as the Tsarévich was taking his drove to drink, he met the Woodsprite with the iron hands, the cast-iron head, and the body of bronze. “Good day, Tsarévich; come with me, visit me.”
“I am frightened that the horses will run away.”
“Fear nothing. Only come.”
His hut was quite near. The Woodsprite had three daughters, and he asked the eldest: “What will you give Iván Tsarévich for saving me out of the iron tower?”
“I will give him this tablecloth.”
With the tablecloth Iván Tsarévich went back to his horses, which were all gathered together, turned it round and asked for any food that he liked, and he was served, and meat and drink appeared at once.
Next day he was again driving his horses to the river, and the Woodsprite appeared once more. “Come into my hut!”
So he went with him. And the Woodsprite asked his second daughter, “What will you give Iván Tsarévich for saving me out of the iron tower?”
“I will give him this mirror, in which he can see all he will.”
And on the third day the third daughter gave him a pipe, which he need only put to his lips, and music, and singers, and musicians would appear before him.
And it was a merry life that Iván Tsarévich now led. He had good food and good meat, knew whatever was going on, saw everything, and he had music all day long: no man was better. And the horses! They—it was really wonderful—were always well fed, well setup, and shapely.
Now, the fair Tsarévna had been noticing the horseherd for a long time, for a very long time, for how could so fair a maiden overlook the beautiful boy? She wanted to know why the horses he kept were always so much shapelier and statelier than those which the other herds looked after. “I will one day go into his room,” she said, “and see where the poor devil lives.” As everyone knows, a woman’s wish is soon her deed. So one day she went into his room, when Iván Tsarévich was giving his horses drink. And there she saw the mirror, and looking into that she knew everything. She took the magical cloth, the mirror, and the pipe.
Just about then there was a great disaster threatening the Tsar. The seven-headed monster, Ídolishche, was invading his land and demanding his daughter as his wife. “If you will not give her to me willy, I will take her nilly!” he said. And he got ready all his immense army, and the Tsar fared ill. And he issued a decree throughout his land, summoned the boyárs and knights together, and promised any who would slay the seven-headed monster half of his wealth and half his realm, and also his daughter as his wife.
Then all the princes and knights and the
