The Firebird

Once upon a time, not this time but another time, in a certain place, not this place but another place where broad forests stood and many birds flew among the branches of ancient trees, there was a realm ruled by a mighty King. In the realm there was a young hunter who rode a horse that was a “horse of power.” It was such a horse as belonged to the men of long ago, a swift steed with a broad chest, eyes like fire, and hoofs of iron. Nowadays no such horses are seen. They sleep deeply in the Earth with the men who rode them, waiting for the time when the world has need of them again. At that time all of the horses will thunder up from under the ground and the valiant people of old will leap from their graves. Those men of old will ride the horses of power, and with a swinging of clubs and a thundering of hooves they will sweep the Earth free of the enemies of God. At least that’s what my grandfather said, and his grandfather said before him, and if they didn’t know, well then, who does?

One day in the spring of the year a young hunter was riding through the forest on his horse of power. The leaves were growing green in the sun and little blue flowers sprouted under the trees. Squirrels ran in the branches, and hares worked through the undergrowth, yet it was strangely quiet. No birds sang. The young hunter listened for the birds, but the forest held silent except for the scratching of the four-footed beasts, the dropping of pine cones, and the heavy stamping of the horse of power.

“What has happened to the birds?” the young hunter mused aloud. He had scarcely uttered the words when he saw a big, curved feather lying on the path before him. The feather was larger than that of a swan, longer than that of an eagle. It lay there glittering like a flame of the sun, for it was a feather of gold. Then the youth knew why there was no singing in the forest. He knew that the Firebird had flown that day, and the flame on the path was a feather from its burning breast.

Suddenly the horse of power spoke, and said, “Leave the flaming feather where it lies. If you take it, you will know trouble and you will learn the meaning of fear.”

The young hunter turned over the matter in his mind. Should he pick up the burning feather or not? He had no wish to learn fear, and who needs more trouble? On the other hand, if he picked up the feather and presented it to the King, the King would be pleased and might reward and honor him. For not even a King had a feather from the burning breast of the Firebird. The more he thought, the more he desired to carry the feather to the King. He knelt to the ground, picked up the feather, remounted the horse, and galloped back through the green forest directly to the palace of the King.

The young hunter entered the great hall of the palace, walked its length, bowed before the King, and offered him the feather as a gift. “Thank you,” said the King, “a shining feather from the burning breast of the Firebird is a thing of great wonder and value. At the same time, a single feather is not really a fitting gift. The whole bird held here before me—now that would be a fitting gift. Since you have found the feather of the Firebird, you must be able to bring me the great Bird itself. Either you present the whole bird here before me, or the edge of this sword will make a path between your head and your shoulders and your head will roll.”

The young hunter bowed his threatened head and left the great hall weeping bitter tears, wiser now in the knowledge of what it meant to be afraid. The horse of power was waiting and asked why the youth was weeping. The hunter told him that the King now required him to bring the whole Firebird. Since no man could do such a thing, he was weeping at the fate that awaited him—the certain and definitive loss of his head.

The horse did not console him, but said, “I told you so. I said if you took the feather you would learn fear. Well, grieve no more. Go to the King and ask that a hundred sacks of maize be emptied and scattered in the open field near the palace. Ask him for three lengths of strong rope. Then rest well. Be ready when the sun wakes the world at dawn; for the trouble is not now—the trouble lies before you.”

When the red glow of dawn burned the darkness out of the sky, the young hunter rode out on the horse of power and came to the open field. The ground was covered with the yellow maize. In the center of the field stood a great oak tree with spreading boughs. The hunter hid himself in the branches of the tree, while the horse wandered loose in the field. The sun rose higher, turning the sky golden. Suddenly there was a noise in the forest. The trees shook and sway and seemed ready to fall. A violent wind blew across the sea nearby, piling waves with crests of foam. Suddenly the Firebird came flying from the other side of the world—huge, golden, and flaming even in the light of the sun. It flew and then dropped with open wings onto the field and began to eat the maize.

The horse of power wandered closer and closer to the Firebird as it fed on the maize. All of a sudden the horse stepped on one of its fiery wings and pressed it heavily to the ground. As the great bird struggled the youth tied three ropes around it; he hefted it over his back and mounted the horse again. The horse carried the hunter as he in turn carried the great bird. In this fashion, the three rode to the palace of the King. As the youth carried the great bird into the great hall of the palace, its broad shining wings hung on either side of him like fiery shields. As he moved through the hall, he left a trail of flaming feathers on the floor. The King gazed upon the bird with awe and delight. He thanked the youth for his services and raised him to noble rank.

After the young hunter brought the Firebird to the center of the realm, the King immediately charged him with another task. “Since you have known how to bring me this wondrous bird, you will also know how to bring the bride I have long desired. In the Land of Never, at the very edge of the world, where the red sun rises in flame from behind the blue sea, lives the beautiful Vasilisa. It is she whom I desire most. If you bring her to me, I will reward you with silver and gold. If not, well, my sword will pass between you and your shoulders like a wind that tears through a forest taking off the tops of trees. Is this all clear?

The young hunter walked out weeping bitter rears that fell to the floor of the great hall. He descended the steps and went to where the horse of power was waiting in the courtyard.

“Why do you weep now, master?” asked the horse.

“Because the King has ordered me to go to the Land of Never and bring back the beautiful Valilisa, or he’ll take off my head.”

“Didn’t I tell you that you would know trouble and learn fear? Well, weep no more; grieve not. The trouble is not now; the trouble lies before you. Go to the King and ask for a silver tent with a golden roof and all kinds of food and drink to take on the journey.”

The youth asked for the silver tent with a gold embroidered roof, bottles of old wine, and the finest of foods. The youth mounted the horse of power, and they rode many days and nights. They came at last to the edge of the world, where the red sun rises in flame from behind the deep sea.

The young hunter looked out onto the blue sea and saw a beautiful woman floating in a silver boat with golden oars. The youth let the horse loose to wander and feed on green grass. As for himself, he pitched the silver tent with the golden roof at the edge of the world where the shore of desire met the waters of uncertainty. He set out a great variety of food and drink, dressed himself in the finest of clothes, and sat down to wait for the beautiful woman.

Vasilisa spied the embroidered tent where it stood in the sand between the green grass and the blue sea, and she admired it. She came to the shore in her silver boat. From there she could see scenes from old stories embroidered on the sides of the tent. She saw the open door of the tent and, within it, the hunter, who sat silently in the center of the scene.

Vasilisa left her boat, went to the door of the tent and looked inside. The hunter welcomed her and offered her old wine and fine foods. She accepted, and she ate, and talked and toasted each other. The wine was heavy and foreign to her, and her eyes closed as if the night itself had perched upon them. She fell into a deep sleep. Quickly, the youth folded the tent, lifted up the beautiful Vasilisa, and mounted the horse of power. She lay as light as a feather in his arms and was not awakened by the thundering of the iron hoofs on the ground as the three of them rode back to the palace of the King.

The horse of power carried the young hunter again, and the youth carried Vasilisa, and all three arrived at the great hall of the King who was overjoyed at the success of the quest. He thanked the hunter, rewarded him with silver and gold, and raised him in rank. Meanwhile, Vasilisa awoke and, discovering that she was far from the blue sea, she began to weep and grieve over her situation. The King tried to comfort her, describing the forthcoming marriage that would make her queen of the realm. But his efforts were in vain, for she longed to be in her realm, and riding in her boat in the blue sea.

When the King insisted on the marriage, she finally spoke, “In the middle of the deep sea there lies a great stone, and hidden under that stone are my wedding clothes. Unless I wear those garments, I will marry no one at all. Let him who brought me here return to that land and find the gown.” The King ordered the young hunter to go at once, saying that if he brought the garments back, he would be rewarded; if he did not, his head would roll into the sea.

The young hunter walked out weeping as before, and, again, the horse asked him the cause of his grieving. He said “The King has ordered me to return to the edge of the world, and retrieve wedding garments from beneath a great stone at the very bottom of the sea. I’ll surely die attempting it, and even if I don’t die from that, my head will roll anyway. But there is new trouble as well. Even if I should manage to bring the wedding clothes, I’ll be helping the King marry the beautiful Vasilisa, and would rather die than see that!”

“I told you,” said the horse of power, “if you picked up that flaming feather, you would learn fear and find trouble. Well, grieve not. The trouble is not yet; the trouble lies before you. Now mount up and we’ll go back to the sea.”

After a short time or a long time, they arrived at the edge of the world and stopped at the shore of the sea. The horse of power saw a huge crab crawling in the sand. The horse approached and suddenly stepped on the crab with its heavy hoof. The crab cried out “Don’t give me death; but give me life, and I will do whatever you ask.”

The horse spoke, “In the middle of the deep sea, under a great stone lies the wedding gown of the beautiful Vasilisa. Bring that gown to us.”

The crab called in a voice heard over the wide sea. The water became agitated, and from all directions came crustaceans of all forms and sizes. The shore became covered with the lobsters and crabs that gathered together. The old crab was chief amongst the crustaceans, and he directed them to move the great stone at the bottom of the sea and bring up the wedding gown. The horde of crustaceans disappeared into the sea. After a time the water was disturbed again, and out of it came thousands of crustaceans carrying a golden casket that contained the wedding gown.

The horse of power carried the young hunter, and the hunter carried the casket and gown just as he had carried Vasilisa and the Firebird before. Soon they arrived at the palace and the hunter once more walked the length of the great hall.

Vasilisa however, still refused to marry the King unless the young hunter was put to bathe in rapidly boiling water. The King ordered some servants to gather wood, and make a great fire in the hall. They placed a large cauldron on the fire and tended it until the water was boiling fully. The rest of the servants were busy preparing the palace for the royal wedding. As the water in the cauldron boiled, a great feast was prepared and all the people of the realm gathered.

Everything was ready at once; the water came to a seething boil just as the wedding feast was ready. The hunter said to himself, “Now this is trouble. Why did I ever pick up the flaming feather of the Firebird? Why did I not heed my horse?” Remembering his horse of power, he said to the King,

“Presently I shall die in the heat of the fire. I only request that I may see my horse once more before my death.” Because of the deeds he had accomplished, the King granted his last wish.

Once again the young hunter left the palace weeping tears that fell to the ground of the great hall. He descended the steps to where the horse was waiting in the courtyard. “Why do you weep now?” asked the horse.

“I weep because the King has ordered that I be boiled to death in a caldron already heated and ready. I weep because you and I will never more see the green trees pass above us and the ground disappearing beneath our feet as we race between Earth and sky.”

“Fear not, weep not,” said the horse. “When they take you to the cauldron, do not hesitate; for if you hesitate you will be lost. Rather, run forward and leap into the water yourself!”

The hunter ascended the stairs and entered the hall. When the servants came for him, he ran forward and leapt into the seething cauldron. Twice he disappeared under the boiling waters. Then, suddenly, he leapt from the seething cauldron. All stood amazed at the sight, for not only had the youth survived but he stood before them more handsome than before and imbued with a beautiful glow.

The King thought it a miracle and, seeing the beauty of the hunter, he wanted to bathe in the cauldron himself. He plunged into the seething waters and was boiled to death in a moment. Afterward he was buried. In the meantime, the wedding feast was waiting and all the people remained gathered at the center of the realm. The great hall was prepared for the wedding of a King and a queen. What else could happen? The beautiful Vasilisa celebrated the wedding ceremony with the hunter. They became the new rulers of the realm and they lived long and brought beauty and love to the land and a sense of meaning and nobility to the people.