Russian Folk-Tales

by A. N. Afanas'ev

“I must get the horse ready! Oh, my servant can do that!”

So Iván Tsarévich called Katomá, and said: “Come into the stable and command the grooms to bring the horse out; ride it, and to-morrow I will go to church on it.”

But Katomá could see the guile in the Tsarévna’s heart, and instantly 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 ever he had swung himself on to 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 palfrey 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. “To-morrow Iván Tsarévich will ride you to his wedding. Listen! 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 on to 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 Tsarévna had a carriage ready, and the Tsarévich was given the magical horse. And from all parts of the country the people had assembled in multitudes, countless multitudes, to see the bride and bridegroom leave the white stone palace. And the Tsarévna went into the carriage and was waiting to see what would happen to Iván Tsarévich. She thought to herself that the horse would prance him up against the winds, and that she could already see his bones scattered in the open fields.

Iván Tsarévich 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 he were made of stone, and never pricked an ear. The Tsarévich mounted it, 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 he is! What enormous strength!” all the people said as Iván Tsarévich paced by.

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

The Tsarévna still wanted to test her husband’s strength, and squeezed his hand, but she squeezed 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.”