The Legless Knight and the Blind Knight

In a certain kingdom there lived a Tsar and his Tsaritsa. They had a son named Ivan Tsarevich, and Ivan had a faithful attendant called Katoma Dyadka, of the oaken-cap. When the Tsar and Tsaritsa grew very old, they fell ill and knew they would not recover. So they called Ivan and said to him: "If we die, always follow Katoma's advice. Do well by him, and you will live happily. But if you do not, you will falter and fail like a fly."

The next day, the Tsar and Tsaritsa died. Ivan buried his parents, heeded their advice, and always took counsel with Katoma before undertaking anything.

Soon after, he grew up and wanted to marry. He said to Katoma: "Katoma, Oaken-cap, it is so melancholy living alone; I want to marry."

"Tsarevich," Katoma replied, "you are at the age when you should look for a bride. Go into the great hall, where you will see pictures of all the princesses in the world. Gaze on them carefully, and choose a bride who pleases you, and you shall marry her."

Ivan went into the great hall, looked at the pictures, and was most delighted with Anna the Fair. She was so fair that she was fairer than any princess in the world. But under her portrait there was a legend: "He who can set her a riddle she cannot solve is to marry her. Anyone whose riddle she solves dies."

Ivan read the legend and was very sad. He went to Katoma and said: "I was in the great hall, and I chose Anna the Fair as my bride, but I do not know whether I can woo her."

"Yes, Tsarevich, it will be hard for you. If you went alone, you would never win her. Take me with you. Do as I say, and all will go well."

So Ivan begged Katoma to go with him, and pledged his word of honor that he would obey him in joy and sorrow.

They set out to seek Anna the Fair. They journeyed for one year, the second year, and the third year, and traversed many lands. Ivan said, "We have been so long on the journey and are at last approaching the realms of Anna the Fair, and still we have not thought out any riddles for her!"

"Time enough yet," Katoma replied.

They rode on, and Katoma saw a purse lying on the road. He said: "Ivan Tsarevich, there is your riddle for the Tsarevna. Give her this riddle to solve: 'Good lies on the road: we took the good with good, and set it down to our good.' That she will never solve all her life long, for every riddle she has solved at once, for she had only to look in her magical book, and she would then have your head cut off."

At last they came to a lofty castle where the fair Tsarevna lived. She was standing on her balcony and sent messengers to meet them, to know whence they came and what they wanted.

Ivan answered: "I have come from my distant realm in order to woo Anna Tsarevna the Fair."

She was told this, and she bade Ivan be brought into her castle to set her a riddle in front of all her councillors, princes, and boyars. "For I have sworn," she said, "to marry him who sets me a riddle I cannot solve. But if I guess it, then he must die." The fair Tsarevna listened to the riddle: "Good lies on the road; we took the good with good, and set it down to our good."

Anna the Fair took her conjuring book and searched it through for the riddle—looked the whole book through in vain. So the princes and boyars decided that she must marry the Tsarevich. But she was very gloomy over it, yet still had to make ready. In her heart she kept thinking: "How could I postpone the date and get rid of my bridegroom?" So she decided to tire him out through severe tasks.

One day she called Ivan and said: "Dear Ivan Tsarevich, my chosen mate, we must get ready for the marriage. Do me a small service. In my realm there stands in a certain village a great iron column: bring it to the great kitchen and split it up into little logs as firewood for the cook."

"What do you want, Tsarevna? Have I come to cut down fuel for you? Is that my duty? Oh, my servant can see to that!" So he called Katoma and told him to bring the iron column into the kitchen and hew it into small logs.

Katomá at once went, took the pillar in his two hands, brought it into the kitchen and split it up. But he kept back four iron shafts and put them into his pocket, for he thought: "Later I may make use of them!"

Next day the Tsarevna said, "Dear Ivan Tsarevich, my chosen husband, tomorrow we shall marry. I shall go in a carriage to church, and you will have a fine prancing steed given you. You must get him ready yourself."

"I must get the horse ready! Oh, my servant can do that!" So Ivan called Katoma and said: "Come into the stable and command the grooms to bring the horse out; ride it, and tomorrow I will go to church on it."

But Katomá could see the guile in the Tsarevna's heart, and went into the stable and ordered them to bring the horse out. Twelve grooms opened the twelve locks, undid twelve doors, and led the magical horse out by twelve chains. Katomá went up to him, and as soon as he swung himself onto the horse's back, the steed rose high into the air, higher than the tree-tops in the forest, lower than the clouds in heaven. But Katomá had a firm seat, and with one hand he held the mane, and with the other he fetched an iron sheet out of his pocket and struck the horse between the ears.

One sheet broke, then he took a second and a third; and after the third broke he was taking the fourth. The horse was so tired that it could not resist him any more, but spoke in a human voice: "Father Katomá, leave me some life, and I will come down to earth and whatever you will I will do."

"Listen then, wretched animal!" Katomá answered. "Tomorrow Ivan Tsarevich will ride you to his wedding. When the servants take you into the broad courtyard, and he comes up to you and lays his hand on you, stand still: do not prick your ear. When he mounts, kneel down with your hoofs on the ground, and step under him with a heavy tread as if you were bearing a burdensome load." So the horse sank half-dead onto the earth. Katomá, seated by the tail, hailed the grooms and said, "Ho, you there! grooms and coachmen, take this carrion into the stable."

Next day came, and the hour for going to church. The Tsarevna had a carriage ready, and Ivan was given the magical horse. From all parts of the country, people had assembled in countless multitudes to see the bride and bridegroom leave the white stone palace. The Tsarevna went into the carriage and waited to see what would happen to Ivan. She thought the horse would prance him up against the winds, and she could already see his bones scattered in the open fields.

Ivan went up to the horse, laid his hand on its back, put his foot into the stirrup, and the magical horse stood there as though made of stone, and never pricked an ear. Ivan mounted, and the horse bowed deep to the earth. Then his twelve chains were taken off, and he stood with a heavy even tread, whilst the sweat ran down his back in streams.

"What a hero! What enormous strength!" all the people said as Ivan paced by.

So the bride and bridegroom were betrothed and went hand in hand out of the church.

The Tsarevna still wanted to test her husband's strength, and squeezed his hand so hard that he could not stand it, and his blood mounted to his head, and his eyes almost fell out of their sockets. "That's the manner of hero you are!" she thought. "Your man, Katomá Oaken-cap, has deceived me finely. But I shall soon be even with him."

Anna the Fair lived with her God-sent husband as a good wife should, and always listened to his words. But she was ever thinking how she might destroy Katomá. If she knew that, she could easily dispose of the Tsarevich. But however many slanders she might think of to tell him, Ivan never believed her, but held Katomá fast.

One year later he said to his wife: "Dear wife, beautiful Tsarevna, I should like to go home with you."

"Yes, we will go together. I have long wished to see your kingdom."

So they set out, and Katomá sat behind the coachman. As they drove out, Ivan dozed off.

Then Anna suddenly roused him from his sleep and complained. "Listen, Ivan Tsarevich: you are always asleep and notice nothing.

Katomá will not obey me, but is purposely taking the horses over all the cobbles and into all the ditches, as if he wanted to destroy us. I spoke to him very gently, but he only laughs at me. I will not go on living if you do not punish him!"

Ivan was drowsy and very angry with Katomá, and said to the princess: "Do with him as you will."

So the princess at once made her servants cut off Katomá's legs. He submitted to his torturers and thought: "If I must suffer, still the Tsarevich will soon learn something of what trouble is."

His two legs were cut off. The Tsarevna looked around and noticed a lofty stump at the edge of the road. She bade her servants set Katomá on it. As for the Tsarevich, she tied him to a rope behind the carriage and so returned to her own kingdom. Katomá sat on his tree stem and wept bitter tears.

"Farewell, Ivan Tsarevich: forget me not!"

Ivan had to leap behind the carriage and knew very well that he had made a mistake, but it could not be cured.

When Anna had again reached her kingdom, Ivan had to mind the cows. Every morning he drove them into the open field, and every evening drove them back into the royal courtyard. The Tsarevna sat on the balcony and saw that none of the cows was missing. Ivan had to count the cows, stable them all, and give the last one a kiss under its tail. The cow knew what was expected of her and remained standing at the door and lifted her tail up.

Katomá all day long sat on his tree-stump without meat or drink and could not descend, and he thought: "I must die of hunger." But nearby there was a thick forest, and there a knight lived who was blind but very strong. This knight used to scent the animals which ran by, run after them and catch them, not minding whether it were a rabbit, fox, or bear. He could roast them for lunch. And he could run so fast, faster than any animal that leaps.

One day a fox came by, and the knight heard him and ran after him. The fox ran up to the tree on which Katomá sat and turned round there. In his haste the blind man struck the tree so hard with his forehead that it fell out with its roots. Katomá tumbled down and asked: "Who are you?"

"I am the blind knight, and for three years I have lived in the wood, feeding myself on the animals I catch and bake on my fire; otherwise I should have died of hunger."

"Were you blind from birth?"

"No; Anna the Fair put my eyes out."

"Brother!" said Katomá, "she also cut off my legs, both of them."

So the two knights decided they would live together and aid each other.

The blind man said to Katomá, "Sit on my back and show me the way: I will serve you with my feet and you me with your eyes." The blind man lifted Katomá up, and the legless man cried out, "Left; right; straight on!" So for a long while they lived in the wood and used to catch rabbits, foxes, and bears for their food.

One day Katomá said: "Why should we live alone here? I am told that there is in the town a rich merchant and his daughter. She, they say, is indescribably kind towards the poor men and cripples, and gives them alms with her own hands. Brother, we must carry her off. She shall live with us as the mistress of the house."

So the blind man took a barrow, put the legless knight into it, and ran him into the town, up to the merchant's house. When the daughter looked out of the window, she instantly rushed out in order to give them alms. She came to Katomá and said, "Take this as God's blessing!"

He accepted her gift and laid hold of her hand, dragged her into the barrow, and cried out to the blind man, who ran away so fast, faster than any horses could overtake him. It was all in vain for the merchant to try to overtake the two knights. The knights brought the merchant's daughter to their hut in the wood and said: "Stay with us as our sister, and become the mistress of the house. We poor folk have no one to cook our food or to do the washing. God will not desert you therefore."

So the merchant's daughter remained with them, and the two knights honoured and loved her as though she were their own sister. Sometimes they went a-hunting, and then the sister remained alone in the house looking after the domestic service, cooking the food and doing the washing. But one day Baba Yaga with the bony legs came into the hut and sucked the blood out of the fair maiden's breast. And whenever the two knights went away on the chase, Baba Yaga came back, so that very soon the merchant's fair daughter became thin and feeble. But the blind man did not notice; only Katomá noticed that something had gone wrong, so he told his companion, and both asked their sister what was the cause.

Baba Yaga had forbidden her to tell them anything about it; she was therefore much too frightened for a long time to tell them what was her trouble. But at last they persuaded her, and she told them: "Every time when you go out on the chase, an ancient hag comes into the hut. She has an evil face and long grey hairs. She hangs her head down over me and sucks my white breast."

"Oh," said the blind man, "that is the Baba Yaga! Wait a little bit. We must deal with her in her own fashion. Tomorrow we must not go hunting: we will try to catch her in the house and to capture her."

Next morning both of them went out. "Creep under the bench," said the blind man to Katomá, "and sit still. I will go into the courtyard and wait under the window. And you, Sister, sit down. If Baba Yaga comes, whilst you are combing her hair, weave a part of her hair and hang the knot onto the window. I will then seize her by her grey tresses." It was said and done. The blind man seized Baba Yaga by her grey tresses and cried out, "Ho, Katomá! come out and hold the evil hag till I get into the hut."

Baba Yaga heard it, and she wanted to lift her head and leap away, but she was unable. She tore and grumbled, but it was no good. Katomá crept out from under the bench and turned round on her, threw himself on her like a mountain of iron. He strangled her until the heavens appeared to her as small as a sheepskin.

The blind man sprang out of the hut and said: "We must build a big faggot-heap and burn the old hag and scatter her ashes to the four winds."

Baba Yaga besought them: "Father, doveling, forgive me. Whatever you will I will do!"

"Very well, ancient witch," said the knights, "show us the well with the waters of Life and Death."

"If you will only not lay me low, I will show it you."

Then Katomá mounted the blind man's back and he took Baba Yaga by her hair. So they fared into the deepest part of the slumberous forest, and she there showed them a well and said: "This is the healing water that renders life."

"Take care, Katomá, do not make a mistake. If she deceives us this time, we may not be able to repair it all our life long."

So Katomá broke off a twig. It had hardly fallen into the water before it flamed up.

"Ah! That was a further deceit of yours!"

So the two knights made ready to throw Baba Yaga into the fiery brook. But she still prayed for mercy as before and swore a great oath she would not deceive any more.

"Really and truly I will show you the right water!"

So the two knights were ready once more to adventure it, and Baba Yaga took them to another well. Katomá broke off a dry twig from the tree and threw it into the well. The twig had hardly fallen into the water before it sprouted up and became green and blue. "This water is right," said Katomá, so the blind man washed his eyes and could at once see. And he put the cripple into the water, and his legs grew on to him.

Then they were both very glad and said, "Now we are healthy, we will again talk of our own rights; but we must first settle our account with Baba Yaga. If we now forgive her, we shall get no good thereby, for she will strive ever against us all her life." So they took her back to the fiery brook and threw her into it, and she was burned to death.

Katomá then married the merchant's daughter, and all three went back into the kingdom of Anna Tsarevna the Fair to free Ivan Tsarevich. They went into the capital, and there he met them with his herd of cows.

"Stay, herd," said Katomá, "whither are you driving the cattle?"