Виктор Мазанов – Tales of Wisdom. Insights from Russian Folklore (страница 22)
Soon the forest filled with a dreadful noise: trees cracked, dry leaves rustled under unseen footsteps. From the thicket emerged Baba Yaga herself—not in a mortar, but in a rattling cart, driving a thin horse and sweeping the ground with a broom. She pulled up to the gate, stopped, sniffed the air and croaked:
– Ugh! It smells of Russian spirit! Who dares to come?
Vasilisa, trembling, approached the old woman, bowed low and said:
– It is I, grandmother! My step‑mother’s daughter sent me for fire.
– Ah, I know those! – Baba Yaga sneered. – Fine, stay with me, work, and I will give you fire. If you fail, you will blame yourself! – she glared with fierce eyes.
She turned to the gate and shouted:
– Hey, my strong locks, open!
The gate creaked open. Baba Yaga drove into the yard, whistling; Vasilisa followed, and the gate slammed shut behind her. Inside the hut, Baba Yaga flopped onto a bench and ordered:
– Bring me what is in the oven! I am hungry!
Vasilisa lit a small flame in one of the pumpkins and began pulling food from the oven—a mountain of pies, meat and porridge enough for ten people. From the cellar she fetched kvass, honey‑mead and wine. Baba Yaga ate everything, leaving Vasilisa only a spoonful of soup, a crust of bread and a piece of chicken. The old woman prepared to sleep and said:
– Tomorrow I will leave. You must sweep the yard, sweep the hut, prepare lunch, wash the linen and go to the storehouse, take a quarter of wheat and clean it of black grains. Do everything, or else… – she narrowed her eyes and snored loudly.
Vasilisa placed the meager leftovers before the doll, tears falling onto the table:
– Here, doll, eat and hear my grief! Baba Yaga gave me impossible work and threatens disaster if I fail. Help!
The doll “ate” and soothed:
– Do not be afraid, Vasilisa the Beautiful! Eat yourself, pray to God and go to sleep. Morning is wiser than evening!
At dawn Vasilisa awoke. Baba Yaga was already up, peering out the window: the pumpkin lights were dimming; a white rider flashed—day had come. Baba Yaga stepped into the yard, whistled and her rattling cart appeared. A red rider flashed—the sun rose. The old woman climbed into the cart, drove away, chasing the horse and sweeping the ground. Vasilisa was left alone. She inspected the house, amazed by the abundance of good, and wondered which task to start with. To her astonishment she saw that the yard was already swept, the hut cleaned, the linen washed, and the doll was just pulling the last black grains from the wheat!
– Oh, my savior! – Vasilisa exclaimed, taking the doll in her hands. – You have rescued me again!
– Only the lunch remains, – the doll replied, hopping into the pocket. – Pray to God, then rest!
By evening Vasilisa set the table and waited for the mistress. Dusk fell, a black rider appeared at the gate—night had returned, and the pumpkins on the fence glowed again. The forest rustled—Baba Yaga was coming. Vasilisa went out to meet her.
– Did you finish everything? – the old woman barked.
– Look yourself, grandmother, – Vasilisa answered quietly.
Baba Yaga walked around the yard, peered into the hut, into the storehouse—everything shone with cleanliness. She could not be angry.
– Fine, it will do! – she muttered, then shouted: – Hey, my wild winds, carry the wheat and grind it into flour!
A gust lifted the sacks of wheat and carried them away.
Baba Yaga finished her dinner, yawned and gave another task:
– Tomorrow do the same, and also go to the storehouse, take poppy seeds and clean them of earth. Someone has poured soil onto them!
The old woman turned to the wall and snored, while Vasilisa fed her doll.
In the morning Baba Yaga left again, and Vasilisa and the doll hurried through all the chores. When the old woman returned, she inspected the work and shouted:
– Hey, my winds, squeeze oil from the poppy!
The wind lifted the poppy and carried it away.
Vasilisa stood silent, recalling the previous day’s winds.
– Why are you silent as a log? – Baba Yaga asked. – You will not say a word!
– I dared not, grandmother, – Vasilisa replied. – If you allow, I will ask something.
– Ask, but know: not every question brings good. Too much knowledge ages you!
– May I ask, grandmother, about the rider on the white horse who passed me? Who was he?
– That is my bright day, – Baba Yaga answered.
– And the rider on the red horse?
– That is my red sun!
– And the black rider who vanished at your gate?
– That is my dark night. All three are my faithful servants!
Vasilisa remembered the winds but stayed quiet.
– Why do you stop asking? – Baba Yaga wondered.
– I will have my share of that, – Vasilisa said. – You told me that too much knowledge ages a person.
– Well done! – Baba Yaga unexpectedly praised. – It is good you ask only about what you saw beyond the gate, not about the house! I do not like people who pry… – she clicked her teeth. – Now tell me, how do you finish all the work so quickly?
– My mother’s blessing helps me, – Vasilisa answered honestly.
– So that is it! – Baba Yaga exclaimed. – Away with you, blessed one! I do not need you!
She seized Vasilisa by the arm, led her out of the hut and pushed her through the gate. She took a small pumpkin with a carved face from the fence, inside of which a tiny flame flickered, and handed it to the girl:
– Here, a light for the step‑mother’s daughters! Carry it. Know that this light is special—it sees the truth in hearts. Those who receive it with evil will not find joy, only a lesson.
Vasilisa clutched the warm pumpkin‑lantern to her chest and ran home. Its glow kept her from losing the way in the darkness. The flame faded only at sunrise; by the next evening she reached the step‑mother’s house. Approaching the gate she thought: Perhaps the light is already there and I do not need it. But then the pumpkin whispered:
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