THE POOR WIDOW
A very long time ago Christ and the twelve Apostles walked on earth. They went about like simple people, and nobody could have known that it was Christ and the twelve Apostles.
Once they came to a village and they asked a rich peasant for a bed. The rich peasant would not let them in, telling them: “Over there there lives a widow who receives beggars; go to her.” So they asked the widow for a night’s rest, and the widow was poor, poor of the poorest; she had nothing at all. She had only a very little crust of bread and a mere handful of flour, and she also had a cow, but the cow had no milk.
“Yes, fathers,” the widow said, “my little hut is very small, and there is nowhere to lie down.”
“Never mind; we can manage somehow!”
So the widow received the wanderers, and did not know how to feed them.
“How shall I feed you?” the widow said. “I only have one little crust of bread and a mere handful of flour, and my cow is calving and has no milk. I have to wait for her to calve. You cannot look for bread and salt here.”
“Well, woman,” the Saviour said, “have no fear—we shall all be satisfied. Give us all you have. We will eat the crust. Everything, woman, comes of God.”
So they sat down to table and began to feast, and they were all fed on the one crust of bread. There were even crumbs left behind.
“Lo and behold! woman, you said that there was nothing to feed us on,” the Saviour said. “Look, we are all satisfied, and there are some crumbs over. Everything, woman, comes of God!” And so Christ and the Apostles stayed with the poor widow.
In the morning the widow told her sister: “Go and scrape up any flour you can find in the corn-bin; possibly we may make a tiny pancake so as to feed our guests.” The girl went and brought up a clay pot full. The old woman was not astonished when so much came—she simply took it as it came and started making a pancake. And the girl told her: “There is as much again in the corn-bin.” So the woman cooked the pancake for the Saviour and the twelve Apostles, telling them: “Come and eat of the good fare, kinsmen, which God has sent.” And so they ate and bade farewell to the aged widow and went on the road.
And when they were on the way there was a grey wolf sitting on a knoll. He bowed low to Christ and asked for food.
“Lord,” he bayed, “I am hungry. Lord, I should like to eat.”
“Go,” said the Saviour to him, “to the old widow and eat her cow with the calf.”
And the Apostles were astonished and said: “Lord, why do you bid him snatch the poor widow’s cow? She received you so kindly and fed us, and she was so happy in the expectation of the calf, for then the cow would have had milk, which is food for every home.”
“That is how it must be,” the Saviour replied. And they went on.
The wolf ran and snatched up the poor widow’s cow, and when the old woman saw this she said contentedly: “The Lord hath given, the Lord hath taken away. Hallowed be His will!”
So Christ and the Apostles went on, and they met a keg with money in it on the way. The Saviour said: “Keg, go and roll to the rich peasant’s door.”
And again the Apostles were astonished.
“Lord, it would have been better had you bidden the keg roll to the poor widow’s door, for the rich man has so much.”
“That is how it must be,” the Saviour said. And they went on.
And the keg with the money in it rolled straight to the rich peasant’s door, and the peasant took and hid the money and was still discontented. “Surely the Lord might have sent me more,” he mused.
Christ and the Apostles went on their way and travelled still further. At midday the sun was very hot, and the Apostles wanted to drink.
“Lord,” they said, “we should like to drink.”
“Go,” replied the Saviour, “and on this road you will find a well. There take your fill.”
So the Apostles went on and on and on, and they saw a well. When they looked into it there was filth and dirt, toads, snakes and frogs, and everything vile, and the Apostles would not drink of it, and swiftly returned to the Saviour.
“Why did you not drink the water?” Christ asked them.
“As you, Lord, told us, the well was there, but it was so horrible that we could hardly look into it.”
Christ answered never a word.
And they went forward on their road. They went on and on and on, and the Apostles again said to the Saviour: “We are thirsty.”
So the Saviour sent them in another direction. “There you will see a well. Go and drink your fill.”
The Apostles went to the other well, and there it was, beautiful—oh, so delightful! Enchanted trees were there and birds of paradise. They did not ever want to leave it, and they drank of it, and the water was so pure, so chilled, and so sweet. And they came back.
“Why have you been so long?” the Saviour asked them.
“Why, we only took a short drink,” the Apostles answered, “and we were only away three little minutes.”
“You were not there three little minutes, but three whole years,” the Lord answered. “As it was in the first well, so ill shall in the next world deal by the rich peasant; and as it was in the second well, so good shall be the poor widow’s fare.”
ILYÁ MÚROMETS[[20]] AND SVYATOGÓR THE KNIGHT
From the famous city of Múrom, out of the village of Karachárovo, the valiant, doughty youth Ilyá Múromets, the son of Iván, set out far into the open fields. The valiant champion met on his way the mighty knight Svyatogór; and the good youth was afraid of him; the old Cossack, Ilyá Múromets, was afraid of Svyatogór the knight. So he set his horse to browse and himself mounted a thick grey oak to avoid Svyatogór the knight. Svyatogór the knight arrived under that same stout oak, put up his white linen tent, and took his wife out of his pocket. She spread out the chequered table-cloths and put sugary food and honeyed drink for him to eat. Svyatogór ate until he was sated, and drank until he was satisfied, and lay down to repose.
Then the wife of the knight observed Ilyá up in the grey oak, and spoke to him in this wise: “Hail, valiant and brave youth; climb down from the grey oak. If you do not climb down from the grey oak, you will arouse Svyatogór the knight, and he will give you to a speedy death.”
So Ilyá Múromets was afraid of Svyatogór, and slid down from the grey oak.
And again she spoke in this wise: “Come and do fornication with me, good youth. If you do not, I will arouse Svyatogór the knight, and he will give you to a speedy death.”
So he did as he was bidden and went with her into the pocket of Svyatogór. Svyatogór arose from a sound sleep, saddled his horse, and went to the Holy Mountains. Then his horse began to sink fast into the earth, until the knight dug his spurs into his horse’s fat haunches.
Then the horse spoke with a human voice: “I have carried you Svyatogór the knight and your young wife, but I cannot carry two knights and your young wife as well.”
So then Svyatogór put his hand into the depths of his pocket, took his young wife out, and discovered Ilyá Múromets.
“How did you get into the depths of my pocket?”
“Your young wife forced me in there; she threatened my life.” And Ilyá Múromets told Svyatogór the knight how he had fallen into the depths of the pocket.
So Svyatogór took his young wife, cut off her unruly head, broke up her white body into four parts, and scattered them on the bare fields.
Then Ilyá and Svyatogór made themselves sworn brothers, and they set out to the Holy Mountains. They came to a deep tomb, and the tomb was decked with red-gold. Svyatogór the knight lay down in that tomb as if it had been built for him.
“Cover me over with boards, my sworn brother,” he said. And, as Ilyá covered him over with boards, the boards by Divine grace grew as they were required. “Uncover me, my sworn brother!”
But Ilyá Múromets had not the strength to uncover him; so he began to break the boards with his sword, and wherever he brandished his sword, hoops arose in his way.
“Take my sword, my sworn brother!”
And Ilyá took the sword, but had not the strength to lift it up.
“Come, my sworn brother, I will give you strength.”
Ilyá then went into the pit and Svyatogór breathed on him with his knightly breath. Then Ilyá took that sword, and wherever he made a stroke, iron hoops arose around.
“Come to me a second time, my sworn brother; I will give you more strength.”
Ilyá Múromets said at once: “If I come down to you again, then our mother the grey earth will not be able to bear it: I have enough strength.”
But Svyatogór answered: “If you had come down again I should have breathed on you with a fatal breath, and you would have lain down to sleep beside me.”
So there Svyatogór the knight remains to this day.