Collected Shorter Fiction, Volume 2 Page 7

  Then Simon the Soldier went to his father and said: ‘You, father, are rich, but have given me nothing. Divide what you have, and give me a third part, that I may improve my estate.’

  But the old man said: ‘You brought nothing into my house; why should I give you a third part? It would be unfair to Iván and to the girl.’

  But Simon answered, ‘He is a fool; and she is an old maid, and deaf and dumb besides; what’s the good of property to them?’

  The old man said, ‘We will see what Iván says about it.’

  And Iván said, ‘Let him take what he wants.’

  So Simon the Soldier took his share of his father’s goods and removed them to his estate, and went off again to serve the king.

  Tarás the Stout also gathered much money, and married into a merchant’s family, but still he wanted more. So he, also, came to his father and said, ‘Give me my portion.’

  But the old man did not wish to give Tarás a share either, and said, ‘You brought nothing here. Iván has earned all we have in the house, and why should we wrong him and the girl?’

  But Tarás said, ‘What does he need? He is a fool! He cannot marry, no one would have him; and the dumb lass does not need anything either. Look here, Iván!’ said he, ‘give me half the corn; I don’t want the tools, and of the live stock I will take only the grey stallion, which is of no use to you for the plough.’

  Iván laughed and said, ‘Take what you want. I will work to earn some more.’

  So they gave a share to Tarás also; and he carted the corn away to town, and took the grey stallion. And Iván was left with one old mare, to lead his peasant life as before, and to support his father and mother.

  II

  NOW the old Devil was vexed that the brothers had not quarrelled over the division, but had parted peacefully; and he summoned three imps.

  ‘Look here,’ said he, ‘there are three brothers: Simon the Soldier, Tarás the Stout, and Iván the Fool. They should have quarrelled, but are living peaceably and meet on friendly terms. The fool Iván has spoilt the whole business for me. Now you three go and tackle those three brothers, and worry them till they scratch each other’s eyes out! Do you think you can do it?’

  ‘Yes, we’ll do it,’ said they.

  ‘How will you set about it?’

  ‘Why,’ said they, ‘first we’ll ruin them. And when they haven’t a crust to eat we’ll tie them up together, and then they’ll fight each other, sure enough!’

  ‘That’s capital; I see you understand your business. Go, and don’t come back till you’ve set them by the ears, or I’ll skin you alive!’

  The imps went off into a swamp, and began to consider how they should set to work. They disputed and disputed, each wanting the lightest job; but at last they decided to cast lots which of the brothers each imp should tackle. If one imp finished his task before the others, he was to come and help them. So the imps cast lots, and appointed a time to meet again in the swamp to learn who had succeeded and who needed help.

  The appointed time came round, and the imps met again in the swamp as agreed. And each began to tell how matters stood. The first, who had undertaken Simon the Soldier, began: ‘My business is going on well. To-morrow Simon will return to his father’s house.’

  His comrades asked, ‘How did you manage it?’

  ‘First,’ says he, ‘I made Simon so bold that he offered to conquer the whole world for his king; and the king made him his general and sent him to fight the King of India. They met for battle, but the night before, I damped all the powder in Simon’s camp, and made more straw soldiers for the Indian King than you could count. And when Simon’s soldiers saw the straw soldiers surrounding them, they grew frightened. Simon ordered them to fire; but their cannons and guns would not go off. Then Simon’s soldiers were quite frightened, and ran like sheep, and the Indian King slaughtered them. Simon was disgraced. He has been deprived of his estate, and to-morrow they intend to execute him. There is only one day’s work left for me to do; I have just to let him out of prison that he may escape home. To-morrow I shall be ready to help whichever of you needs me.’

  Then the second imp, who had Tarás in hand, began to tell how he had fared. ‘I don’t want any help,’ said he; ‘my job is going all right. Tarás can’t hold out for more than a week. First I caused him to grow greedy and fat. His covetousness became so great that whatever he saw he wanted to buy. He has spent all his money in buying immense lots of goods, and still continues to buy. Already he has begun to use borrowed money. His debts hang like a weight round his neck, and he is so involved that he can never get clear. In a week his bills come due, and before then I will spoil all his stock. He will be unable to pay and will have to go home to his father.’

  Then they asked the third imp (Iván’s), ‘And how are you getting on?’

  ‘Well,’ said he, ‘my affair goes badly. First I spat into his drink to make his stomach ache, and then I went into his field and hammered the ground hard as a stone that he should not be able to till it. I thought he wouldn’t plough it, but like the fool that he is, he came with his plough and began to make a furrow. He groaned with the pain in his stomach, but went on ploughing. I broke his plough for him, but he went home, got out another, and again started ploughing. I crept under the earth and caught hold of the ploughshares, but there was no holding them; he leant heavily upon the plough, and the ploughshare was sharp and cut my hands. He has all but finished ploughing the field, only one little strip is left. Come, brothers, and help me; for if we don’t get the better of him, all our labour is lost. If the fool holds out and keeps on working the land, his brothers will never know want, for he will feed them both.’

  Simon the Soldier’s imp promised to come next day to help, and so they parted.

  III

  IVÁN had ploughed up the whole fallow, all but one little strip. He came to finish it. Though his stomach ached, the ploughing must be done. He freed the harness ropes, turned the plough, and began to work. He drove one furrow, but coming back the plough began to drag as if it had caught in a root. It was the imp, who had twisted his legs round the ploughshare and was holding it back.

  ‘What a strange thing!’ thought Iván. ‘There were no roots here at all, and yet here’s a root.’

  Iván pushed his hand deep into the furrow, groped about, and, feeling something soft, seized hold of it and pulled it out. It was black like a root, but it wriggled. Why, it was a live imp!

  ‘What a nasty thing!’ said Iván, and he lifted his hand to dash it against the plough, but the imp squealed out:

  ‘Don’t hurt me, and I’ll do anything you tell me to.’

  ‘What can you do?’

  ‘Anything you tell me to.’

  Iván scratched his head.

  ‘My stomach aches,’ said he; ‘can you cure that?’

  ‘Certainly I can.’

  ‘Well then, do so.’

  The imp went down into the furrow, searched about, scratched with his claws, and pulled out a bunch of three little roots, which he handed to Iván.

  ‘Here,’ says he, ‘whoever swallows one of these will be cured of any illness.’

  Iván took the roots, separated them, and swallowed one. The pain in his stomach was cured at once. The imp again begged to be let off; ‘I will jump right into the earth, and never come back,’ said he.

  ‘All right,’ said Iván; ‘begone, and God be with you!’

  And as soon as Iván mentioned God, the imp plunged into the earth like a stone thrown into the water. Only a hole was left.

  Iván put the other two pieces of root into his cap and went on with his ploughing. He ploughed the strip to the end, turned his plough over, and went home. He unharnessed the horse, entered the hut, and there he saw his elder brother, Simon the Soldier and his wife, sitting at supper. Simon’s estate had been confiscated, he himself had barely managed to escape from prison, and he had come back to live in his father’s house.

  Simon saw Iván, an
d said: ‘I have come to live with you. Feed me and my wife till I get another appointment.’

  ‘All right,’ said Iván, ‘you can stay with us.’

  But when Iván was about to sit down on the bench, the lady disliked the smell, and said to her husband: ‘I cannot sup with a dirty peasant.’

  So Simon the Soldier said, ‘My lady says you don’t smell nice. You’d better go and eat outside.’

  ‘All right,’ said Iván; ‘anyway I must spend the night outside, for I have to pasture the mare.’

  So he took some bread, and his coat, and went with the mare into the fields.

  IV

  HAVING finished his work that night, Simon’s imp came, as agreed, to find Iván’s imp and help him to subdue the fool. He came to the field and searched and searched; but instead of his comrade he found only a hole.

  ‘Clearly,’ thought he, ‘some evil has befallen my comrade. I must take his place. The field is ploughed up, so the fool must be tackled in the meadow.’

  So the imp went to the meadows and flooded Iván’s hayfield with water, which left the grass all covered with mud.

  Iván returned from the pasture at dawn, sharpened his scythe, and went to mow the hayfield. He began to mow but had only swung the scythe once or twice when the edge turned so that it would not cut at all, but needed resharpening. Iván struggled on for awhile, and then said: ‘It’s no good. I must go home and bring a tool to straighten the scythe, and I’ll get a chunk of bread at the same time. If I have to spend a week here, I won’t leave till the mowing’s done.’

  The imp heard this and thought to himself, ‘This fool is a tough ’un; I can’t get round him this way. I must try some other dodge.’

  Iván returned, sharpened his scythe, and began to mow. The imp crept into the grass and began to catch the scythe by the heel, sending the point into the earth. Iván found the work very hard, but he mowed the whole meadow, except one little bit which was in the swamp. The imp crept into the swamp and, thought he to himself, ‘Though I cut my paws I will not let him mow.’

  Iván reached the swamp. The grass didn’t seem thick, but yet it resisted the scythe. Iván grew angry and began to swing the scythe with all his might. The imp had to give in; he could not keep up with the scythe, and, seeing it was a bad business, he scrambled into a bush. Iván swung the scythe, caught the bush, and cut off half the imp’s tail. Then he finished mowing the grass, told his sister to rake it up, and went himself to mow the rye. He went with the scythe, but the dock-tailed imp was there first, and entangled the rye so that the scythe was of no use. But Iván went home and got his sickle, and began to reap with that, and he reaped the whole of the rye.

  ‘Now it’s time,’ said he, ‘to start on the oats.’

  The dock-tailed imp heard this, and thought, ‘I couldn’t get the better of him on the rye, but I shall on the oats. Only wait till the morning.’

  In the morning the imp hurried to the oat field, but the oats were already mowed down! Iván had mowed them by night, in order that less grain should shake out. The imp grew angry.

  ‘He has cut me all over and tired me out – the fool. It is worse than war. The accursed fool never sleeps; one can’t keep up with him. I will get into his stacks now and rot them.’

  So the imp entered the rye, and crept among the sheaves, and they began to rot. He heated them, grew warm himself, and fell asleep.

  Iván harnessed the mare, and went with the lass to cart the rye. He came to the heaps, and began to pitch the rye into the cart. He tossed two sheaves, and again thrust his fork – right into the imp’s back. He lifts the fork and sees on the prongs a live imp, dock-tailed, struggling, wriggling, and trying to jump off.

  ‘What, you nasty thing, are you here again?’

  ‘I’m another,’ said the imp. ‘The first was my brother. I’ve been with your brother Simon.’

  ‘Well,’ said Iván, ‘whoever you are, you’ve met the same fate!’

  He was about to dash him against the cart, but the imp cried out: ‘Let me off, and I will not only let you alone, but I’ll do anything you tell me to do.’

  ‘What can you do?’

  ‘I can make soldiers out of anything you like.’

  ‘But what use are they?’

  ‘You can turn them to any use; they can do anything you please.’

  ‘Can they sing?’

  ‘Yes, if you want them to.’

  ‘All right; you may make me some.’

  And the imp said, ‘Here, take a sheaf of rye, then bump it upright on the ground, and simply say:

  ‘ “O sheaf! my slave

  This order gave:

  Where a straw has been

  Let a soldier be seen!” ’

  Iván took the sheaf, struck it on the ground, and said what the imp had told him to. The sheaf fell asunder, and all the straws changed into soldiers, with a trumpeter and a drummer playing in front, so that there was a whole regiment.

  Iván laughed.

  ‘How clever!’ said he. ‘This is fine! How pleased the girls will be!’

  ‘Now let me go,’ said the imp.

  ‘No,’ said Iván, ‘I must make my soldiers of threshed straw, otherwise good grain will be wasted. Teach me how to change them back again into the sheaf. I want to thresh it.’

  And the imp said, ‘Repeat:

  ‘ “Let each be a straw

  Who was soldier before,

  For my true slave

  This order gave!” ’

  Iván said this, and the sheaf reappeared.

  Again the imp began to beg, ‘Now let me go!’

  ‘All right.’ And Iván pressed him against the side of the cart, held him down with his hand, and pulled him off the fork.

  ‘God be with you,’ said he.

  And as soon as he mentioned God, the imp plunged into the earth like a stone into water. Only a hole was left.

  Iván returned home, and there was his other brother, Tarás, with his wife, sitting at supper.

  Tarás the Stout had failed to pay his debts, had run away from his creditors, and had come home to his father’s house. When he saw Iván, ‘Look here,’ said he, ‘till I can start in business again, I want you to keep me and my wife.’

  ‘All right,’ said Iván, ‘you can live here, if you like.’

  Iván took off his coat and sat down to table, but the merchant’s wife said: ‘I cannot sit at table with this clown, he smells of perspiration.’

  Then Tarás the Stout said, ‘Iván, you smell too strong. Go and eat outside.’

  ‘All right,’ said Iván, taking some bread and going into the yard. ‘It is time, anyhow, for me to go and pasture the mare.’

  V

  TARÁS’S imp, being also free that night, came, as agreed, to help his comrades subdue Iván the Fool. He came to the cornfield, looked and looked for his comrades – no one was there. He only found a hole. He went to the meadow, and there he found an imp’s tail in the swamp, and another hole in the rye stubble.

  ‘Evidently, some ill-luck has befallen my comrades,’ thought he. ‘I must take their place and tackle the fool.’

  So the imp went to look for Iván, who had already stacked the corn and was cutting trees in the wood. The two brothers had begun to feel crowded, living together, and had told Iván to cut down trees to build new houses for them.

  The imp ran to the wood, climbed among the branches, and began to hinder Iván from felling the trees. Iván undercut one tree so that it should fall clear, but in falling it turned askew and caught among some branches. Iván cut a pole with which to lever it aside, and with difficulty contrived to bring it to the ground. He set to work to fell another tree – again the same thing occurred; and with all his efforts he could hardly get the tree clear. He began on a third tree, and again the same thing happened.

  Iván had hoped to cut down half a hundred small trees, but had not felled even half a score, and now the night was come and he was tired out. The steam from him spread li
ke a mist through the wood, but still he stuck to his work. He undercut another tree, but his back began to ache so that he could not stand. He drove his axe into the tree and sat down to rest.

  The imp, noticing that Iván had stopped work, grew cheerful.

  ‘At last,’ thought he, ‘he is tired out! He will give it up. Now I can take a rest myself.’

  He seated himself astride a branch and chuckled. But soon Iván got up, pulled the axe out, swung it, and smote the tree from the opposite side with such force that the tree gave way at once and came crashing down. The imp had not expected this, and had no time to get his feet clear, and the tree in breaking, gripped his paw. Iván began to lop off the branches, when he noticed a live imp hanging in the tree! Iván was surprised.

  ‘What, you nasty thing,’ says he, ‘so you are here again!’

  ‘I am another one,’ says the imp. ‘I have been with your brother Tarás.’

  ‘Whoever you are, you have met your fate,’ said Iván, and swinging his axe he was about to strike him with the haft, but the imp begged for mercy: ‘Don’t strike me,’ said he, ‘and I will do anything you tell me to.’

  ‘What can you do?’

  ‘I can make money for you, as much as you want.’

  ‘All right, make some.’ So the imp showed him how to do it.

  ‘Take’, said he, ‘some leaves from this oak and rub them in your hands, and gold will fall out on the ground.’

  Iván took some leaves and rubbed them, and gold ran down from his hands.

  ‘This stuff will do fine’, said he, ‘for the fellows to play with on their holidays.’

  ‘Now let me go,’ said the imp.

  ‘All right,’ said Iván, and taking a lever he set the imp free. ‘Now begone! And God be with you,’ says he.

  And as soon as he mentioned God, the imp plunged into the earth, like a stone into water. Only a hole was left.

  VI

  SO the brothers built houses, and began to live apart; and Iván finished the harvest work, brewed beer, and invited his brothers to spend the next holiday with him. His brothers would not come.