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Read Ebook: The Soldier and Death A Russian Folk Tale Told in English by Arthur Ransome by Ransome Arthur
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THE SOLDIER AND DEATH
A RUSSIAN FOLK TALE TOLD IN ENGLISH BY ARTHUR RANSOME
THE SOLDIER AND DEATH
A soldier served God and the Great Tzar for twenty-five years, earned three dry biscuits, and set off to walk his way home. He kissed his companions with whom he had served so long, and boasted of the feasting there would be in the village when he should come marching home with all his wars behind him. Singing at the top of his voice he was as he set off. But as soon as he was alone on the high road, walking through the forest he began to think things over. And he thought to himself: All these years I have served the Tzar and had good clothes to my back and my belly full of victuals. And now I am like to be both hungry and cold. Already I've nothing but three dry biscuits.
Just then he met an old beggar, who stood in the road and crossed himself and asked alms for the love of God.
The soldier had not a copper piece in the world, so he gave the beggar one of his three dry biscuits.
He had not gone very far along the road when he met a second beggar, who leant on a stick and recited holy words and begged alms for the love of God.
The soldier gave him the second of his three dry biscuits.
And then, at a bend in the road, he met a third old beggar, with long white hair and beard and loathsome rags, who stood shaking by the roadside, and he begged alms for the love of God.
"If I give him my last dry biscuit I shall have nothing left for myself," thought the soldier. He gave the old beggar half of the third dry biscuit. Then the thought came into his head that perhaps this old beggar would meet the other two, and would learn that they had been given whole biscuits while he had only been given a half. "He will be hurt and affronted," thought the soldier, "and his blessing will be of no avail." So he gave the old beggar the other half also of the third of his three dry biscuits. "I shall get along somehow," thought the soldier, and was for making forward on his way. But the old beggar put out his hand and stopped him.
"Brother," says the old beggar, "are you in want of anything?"
"God bless you," says the soldier, looking at the beggar's rags, "I want nothing from you. You're a poor man yourself."
"Never mind my poverty," says the old beggar. "Just tell me what you would like to have, and I am well able to reward you for your kind heart."
"I don't want anything," said the soldier; "but, if you do happen to have such a thing as a pack of cards about you, I'd keep them in memory of you, and they'd be a pleasure to me on the long road."
The old beggar thrust his hand into his bosom among his rags, and pulled out a pack of cards.
"Take these," says he, "and when you play with them you'll always be winner whoever may be playing against you. And here's a flour sack for you as well. If you meet anything and want to catch it, just open the sack and tell beasts or birds or aught else to get into it, and they'll do just that, and you can close the sack and do with them what you will."
"Thank you kindly," says the soldier, throws the sack over his shoulder, puts the pack of cards in his pocket, and trudges off along the high road singing an old song.
He went on and on till he came to a lake, where he drank a little water to ease his thirst, and smoked a pipe to put off his hunger, resting by the shore of the lake. And there on the lake he saw three wild geese swimming far away. "Now if I could catch them!" thought the soldier, and remembered the sack the old beggar had given him. He opened the sack and shouted at the top of his voice: "Hi! You there, you wild geese, come into my sack!"
And the three wild geese splashed up out of the water, and flew to the bank and crowded into the sack one after the other.
The soldier tied up the mouth of the sack, flung it over his shoulder and went on his way.
He came to a town, and looked for a tavern, and chose the best he could see, and went in there and asked for the landlord.
"See here," says he, "here are three wild geese. I want one of them roasted for my dinner. Another I'll give you in exchange for a bottle of vodka. The third you shall have to pay you for your trouble."
The landlord agreed, as well he might, and presently the soldier was seated at a good table near a window, with a whole bottle of the best vodka, and a fine roast goose fresh from the kitchen.
When he had made an end of the goose, the soldier laid down his knife and fork, tipped the last drops of the vodka down his throat, and set the bottle upside down upon the table. Then he lit his little pipe, sat back on the bench and took a look out of the window to see what was doing in the town.
And there on the other side of the road was a fine palace, well carved and painted. A year's work had gone to the carving of every doorpost and window-frame. But in all the palace there was not one whole pane of glass.
"Landlord," says the soldier, "tell me what's the meaning of this? Why is a fine palace like that standing empty with broken windows?"
"It's a good enough palace," says the landlord. "The Tzar built the palace for himself, but there's no living in it because of the devils."
"Devils?" says the soldier.
"Devils," says the landlord. "Every night they crowd into the palace, and, what with their shouting and yelling and screaming and playing cards, and all the other devilries that come into their heads, there's no living in the palace for decent folk."
"And does nobody clear them out?" asks the soldier.
"Easier said than done," says the landlord.
Well, with that the soldier wishes good health to the landlord, and sets off to see the Tzar. He comes walking into the Tzar's house and gives him a salute.
"Your Majesty," says he, "will you give me leave to spend one night in your empty palace?"
"God bless you," says the Tzar, "but you don't know what you are asking. Foolhardy folk enough have tried to spend a night in that palace. They went in merry and boasting, but not one of them came walking out alive in the morning."
"What of that?" says the soldier. "Water won't drown a Russian soldier, and fire won't burn him. I have served God and the Tzar for twenty-five years and am not dead. A single night in that palace won't be end of me."
"But I tell you: a man walks in there alive in the evening, and in the morning the servants have to search the floor for the little bits of his bones."
"None the less," says the soldier, "if your majesty will give me leave...."
"Get along with you and God be with you," says the Tzar. "Spend the night there if you've set your heart on it."
So the soldier came to the palace and stepped in, singing through the empty rooms. He made himself comfortable in the biggest room of all, laid his knapsack in a corner and hung his sword on a nail, sat down at the table, took out his bag of tobacco, filled his little pipe, and sat there smoking, ready for what might come.
Twelve o'clock sharp and there was a yelling, a shouting, a blowing of horns, a scraping of fiddles and every other kind of instrument, a noise of dancing, of running, of stamping, and the palace cram full of devils making themselves at home as if the place belonged to them.
"And you, soldier?" cried the devils. "What are you sitting there so glum for, smoking your pipe? There's smoke enough where we have been. Put your pipe in your pocket and play a round of cards with us."
"Right you are," says the soldier, "if you'll play with my cards."
"Deal them out," shouted the devils, and the soldier put his pipe in his pocket and dealt out the cards, while the devils crowded round the table fighting for room on the benches.
They played a game and the soldier won. They played another and he won again. The devils were cunning enough, God knows, but not all their cunning could win a single game for them. The soldier was raking in the money all the time. Soon enough the devils had not a penny piece between them, and the soldier was for putting up his cards and lighting his pipe. Content he was, and well he might be, with his pockets bulging with money.
"Stop a minute, soldier," said the devils, "we've still got sixty bushels of silver and forty of gold. We'll play for them if you'll give us time to send for them."
"Lets see the silver," says the soldier, and puts the cards in his pocket.
Well, they sent a little devil to fetch the silver. Sixty times he ran out of the room and sixty times he came staggering back with a bushel of silver on his shoulders.
The soldier pulled out his cards, and they played on, but it was all the same. The devils cheated in every kind of way, but could not win a game.
"Go and fetch the gold," says the oldest devil.
"Aye, aye, grandfather," says the little devil, and goes scuttling out of the room. Forty times he ran out, and forty times he came staggering back with a bushel of gold between his shoulders.
They played on. The soldier won every game and all the gold, asked if they had any more money to lose, put his cards in his pocket and lit his pipe.
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