Ivan Tsarevich
Did you know? This tale inspired a world-famous ballet! In 1910, composer Igor Stravinsky's "The Firebird" premiered in Paris and made him famous overnight. Russian painter Viktor Vasnetsov also painted the famous "Ivan Tsarevich Riding the Gray Wolf" in 1889 — and the magical Water of Death and Water of Life are real treasures from Slavic folklore!
Once upon a time, in far-off Russia, there lived a Tsar who was both stern and kind. He had three sons: the eldest prince, the second prince, and the youngest, Ivan Tsarevich. The two older brothers liked to put on airs, but Ivan was good-hearted and gentle in his words, and all the servants in the palace loved him.
The Tsar's proudest treasure was a marvelous tree in the royal garden. It bore shining golden apples, each one glowing like a tiny sun and filling the whole garden with warmth. But one day, no one knew exactly when, a golden apple began to go missing from the tree every night.
The Tsar counted his apples day after day, and his frown grew deeper and deeper. “Who would dare steal my golden apples?” he sighed, pacing the great hall. “If this goes on, my precious tree will be stripped bare!”
He called his three sons before him and said solemnly, “Starting tonight, you will take turns keeping watch in the garden. We must catch that thief!” The princes looked at one another, and the night breeze drifted softly through the garden, as if it, too, were waiting for their answer.
On the first night, it was the eldest prince's turn to keep watch. He wrapped himself in a thick cloak and sat beneath the apple tree. At first he kept his eyes wide open, but as the night grew deeper, sleepiness settled over him like a soft quilt, and soon he was snoring. In the morning he rubbed his eyes and told his father with a straight face, “Father, the garden was perfectly quiet last night. There wasn't a trace of any thief.”
On the second night, it was the second prince's turn. He set out full of confidence, but he, too, fell asleep in the middle of the night. The next morning he copied his brother and announced loudly, “No thief came! The apples are fine!” Yet when the Tsar counted them, another golden apple was gone.
On the third night, it was Ivan's turn. He wore no thick cloak and chose no comfortable spot. He simply leaned against the trunk and kept pinching the back of his hand to remind himself never to sleep. The moon rose overhead, and the garden was so still that he could hear only his own heartbeat.
Suddenly a streak of golden-red light split the night sky, and the whole garden grew as bright as day. Ivan held his breath and looked up. A Firebird, glowing from head to tail, spread its dazzling wings and landed softly on a branch of the apple tree!
Ivan's heart pounded. Not daring to make a sound, he climbed the tree as softly as a cat and crept closer, bit by bit, to the Firebird, which was pecking at a golden apple. Its feathers flickered before his eyes, so beautiful that he forgot to breathe. Ivan reached out and seized the Firebird's long tail.
The Firebird shrieked in fright and beat its wings with all its might. It gave one great tug upward and shot into the night sky, vanishing into the distance in an instant. In Ivan's hand there remained only one shining feather.
When morning came, Ivan presented the feather to his father. The moment it was placed in the hall, the whole room glittered with golden light, and not a single candle was needed. The Tsar held the feather and gazed at it again and again, his eyes growing bright. “If the feather is this lovely, how marvelous the whole Firebird must be!” he said. “I must have it!”
So the Tsar rose and proclaimed to the whole land, “Whoever brings back the Firebird shall receive half of my kingdom!” The ministers in the hall murmured excitedly, and the three princes' hearts burned with eagerness to set out and try their luck.
The three brothers prepared their horses and their baggage and set out, one after another, on the journey to find the Firebird. The eldest and second brothers rode side by side, while Ivan left a little later. They traveled on and on, across green meadows and through deep forests, until at last, at a fork in the road, they saw a tall stone marker.
A few old words were carved upon it: “He who goes straight ahead will be hungry and cold. He who goes to the right will be safe himself, but his horse will die. He who goes to the left will die himself, but his horse will be safe.”
The two older brothers read it and looked at each other. The eldest said, “Going straight is too hard. I don't want to go hungry and freezing.” The second said, “Going left would put our lives in danger. Even worse!” After a short talk, they simply avoided all those roads and turned onto a little path leading to a lively town. They would rather not take any risks.
And what came of it? They settled into a warm, comfortable inn, feasting and playing every day and sleeping until the sun was high, and soon they had tossed the Firebird and their father's hopes far out of mind. They even told themselves, “The Firebird can't be that easy to find. Let's rest for a few days first.” And so the days slipped away.
Ivan stood before the stone marker and read the words again and again. He patted his loyal horse beside him, feeling a little sad, but he told himself, “As long as I stay safe, I still have a chance to find the Firebird and to help Father.” So he chose the road to the right and slowly walked into the desolate fields.
The sky was growing dark. They had not gone far when a gust of wind suddenly swept through the woods ahead, and a Gray Wolf bigger than a house leapt out from behind the bushes and blocked the road. Its eyes were like two glimmering lamps, and Ivan's horse let out a long, frightened neigh. Before Ivan could react, the Gray Wolf had devoured the horse. What the stone had said had truly come to pass.
Ivan stood dazed, tears welling in his eyes. “My good horse...” he said sadly.
The Gray Wolf lowered its head and said in a gentle voice, “I'm sorry, Ivan Tsarevich. This is the price of the road you chose. Don't be sad. I know you are going to find the Firebird. From now on, let me be your horse. Climb onto my back, and I will carry you!”
Ivan wiped away his tears and, half doubtful, climbed onto the Gray Wolf's broad back.
The Gray Wolf kicked off with all four legs and bounded away at once. The wind whistled past Ivan's ears, the land rushed backward beneath them, and mountains, rivers, and forests were flung behind in the blink of an eye. Ivan gripped the long fur on the Gray Wolf's neck, frightened and thrilled all at once, feeling as though he were riding a whirlwind.
On and on they ran, for who knows how long, until at last the Gray Wolf stopped. Before them rose a tall wall, and within it lay a splendid golden garden, with fountains sparkling and flowers more dazzling than jewels. Deep in the garden, Ivan saw the familiar Firebird, sleeping quietly beside a glittering golden cage.
The Gray Wolf lowered its voice and warned him word by word, “Ivan, listen carefully. The guards are all asleep now. Slip in quietly and just carry the Firebird away. Remember: never, ever touch that golden cage!”
Ivan nodded firmly. “I'll remember!”
Holding his breath, Ivan tiptoed into the garden. In the moonlight, the Firebird's feathers glowed softly, beautiful as a dream. Ivan stretched out both hands and carefully lifted the Firebird. The Firebird slept soundly and did not stir at all.
Just then, Ivan's eyes were drawn to the golden cage beside it. What a lovely cage it was, hung with tiny golden bells and carved with beautiful patterns. “The Gray Wolf said not to touch it,” thought Ivan, “but... just one little touch should be all right, shouldn't it?” His fingers reached out before he could stop them and lightly brushed the cage.
Cling-clang! All the bells rang out at once, their bright sound splitting the night sky. The guards woke with a start, rushed over with torches, and surrounded Ivan.
“Catch the thief!” the guards shouted. Ivan stood where he was, holding the Firebird, his face as red as a ripe apple. He knew he was in trouble.
The owner of this garden was the first Tsar. Seated on his throne, he listened to the guards' report and frowned. “Young man, how dare you steal my Firebird!” Ivan honestly told him where he had come from and why he sought the Firebird. The Tsar listened, pondered a while, and said, “Very well, I can set you free. But I have one condition: bring me that golden-maned steed, and I will give you the Firebird.”
Ivan trudged out of the palace, downcast. The Gray Wolf was waiting outside and sighed. “Alas, you touched the golden cage after all. But never mind, climb up, and let's go find that horse.”
The Gray Wolf carried Ivan to the stable outside a second castle. In the moonlight, a horse with a golden-glittering mane was grazing; its bridle, too, was golden, hung with little bells. The Gray Wolf warned, “Listen well: this time just lead the horse away, and never, ever touch that golden bridle!”
Ivan nodded, crept into the stable, and took hold of the golden-maned horse.
Ivan led out the golden-maned horse, and the gentle creature followed him quietly, its mane glinting gold in the darkness. They were almost out of the stable when Ivan's eyes were caught once more by the golden bridle. It was set with tiny jewels and shone like a string of little stars. “Just one touch,” he murmured. “This time, really, only one.”
His fingers had barely brushed the bridle when the bells began to jangle. Guards rushed in from every side and seized Ivan once again. He was brought before the second Tsar, too ashamed to lift his head.
The second Tsar heard his story and pondered for a while. “Young man, you may have my golden-maned horse. But I, too, have a wish. In a faraway land, the Tsar has a beautiful daughter named Princess Helen. Bring her to me to be my bride, and I will set you free and give you the horse.”
Once more Ivan trudged out of the castle, downcast. The Gray Wolf was waiting outside. This time it did not scold him but only sighed. “Twice now. Ivan, your heart is too easily carried away by pretty things. But don't be afraid. Climb up, and I will help you with this.”
The Gray Wolf carried Ivan, racing like the wind once more. They crossed snow-white mountain peaks and wide rivers, and deep in the night they reached the castle where Princess Helen lived. In the castle garden the moonlight lay like water, and Princess Helen was strolling among the flowers with her ladies-in-waiting.
“Ivan,” the Gray Wolf whispered, “hide here and don't move. I'll be back soon.” Then it crept softly behind the princess and, while her maids were not looking, gently lifted her onto its back and turned to run. When the maids rushed out, they saw only a gray shadow vanishing into the night.
At first Princess Helen was astonished and afraid, but then she saw Ivan's honest face. Blushing, Ivan explained everything that had happened along the way: the Firebird, the golden-maned horse, and the two Tsars. Helen listened and laughed. “So you have traveled so far only to fulfill other people's demands.”
The road home was long, and Ivan and Helen talked about many things. They watched the stars together and listened to the wind. Slowly each of them discovered that they had grown fond of the other. When they reached the second Tsar's castle, Ivan stopped, his eyes red. “I truly cannot bear to hand you over.”
The Gray Wolf looked at the two sad young people, and its heart grew warm. It smiled and said, “Don't cry, Ivan. I have a good plan. Princess Helen will stay here and wait for you. Just take me inside.”
Hardly had it spoken when the Gray Wolf rolled over on the ground. A puff of light smoke rose, and standing before Ivan was a maiden who looked exactly like Princess Helen! Even the sheen of her hair and the pattern on her skirt were the same. Helen's eyes went wide, and she could not help laughing. “Goodness, she looks just like me!”
Ivan squeezed the real Helen's hand. “Wait for me. I'll be back soon.” Then he led “Helen” into the second Tsar's palace.
The moment the Tsar saw the lovely “Princess Helen,” he beamed from ear to ear. He at once had the golden-maned horse brought out and a lavish feast laid, planning the wedding for the very next day. Ivan thanked him, took the golden-maned horse, and walked out of the palace without looking back. Outside the city, Princess Helen was waiting under a tree. They had barely turned around when the Gray Wolf, back in its own shape, came racing after them from the palace.
The three of them set out together for the first Tsar's land. On the road, the Gray Wolf said to Ivan, “There is one last thing. I will change once more, into the shape of the golden-maned horse, and you will lead me in to trade for the Firebird. You and Helen will ride the real horse and wait for me outside the city.”
Outside the first Tsar's palace, the Gray Wolf rolled over and at once became a golden-maned steed, its mane glinting gold, even the sound of its hooves exactly like the real horse's. Ivan led it into the great hall. When the first Tsar saw that splendid animal, his eyes lit up, and he clapped his hands again and again. “A fine horse! A fine horse! Truly it lives up to its fame!” He immediately ordered his attendants to bring the Firebird, golden cage and all, to Ivan.
Ivan carefully held the Firebird, bowed in thanks to the Tsar, and left the hall. Once he had gone a good way off, the Gray Wolf, while no one was watching, slipped gently out of the bridle, changed back to its true form, and sped after him.
On that day, Ivan at last had the Firebird, the golden-maned horse, and his dearest Princess Helen. They set out for home together, chatting and laughing all along the way, and even the wind seemed to sing. The Gray Wolf trotted beside them, a contented smile on its face.
After several days of travel, everyone was tired. When they reached a green forest, the Gray Wolf said, “My task is done, and I must go back. You must be careful on the road ahead.” Ivan and Helen thanked the Gray Wolf, which nodded and turned to vanish into the depths of the forest.
Ivan and Helen led the horse along and sat down to rest beneath a great tree. A warm breeze drifted by, and the scent of flowers and grass made them drowsy. The Firebird quietly preened its feathers in the golden cage, and the golden-maned horse grazed nearby. Ivan leaned against the trunk and Helen against his shoulder, and before they knew it, they had fallen asleep.
No one expected that two figures were creeping close. It was the eldest and second brothers! They had played long enough and were heading home, and on the road they came upon their sleeping younger brother and the shining treasures beside him. The eldest's eyes burned with envy. “Why should he be better than we are?” The second gritted his teeth. “We can't let him go home and take the credit!”
They sprang upon the sleeping Ivan, struck him senseless, and left him badly hurt. Then they took the Firebird and the golden-maned horse, and forced the terrified Helen: “When you get back, you must tell Father that we two won all of this. Do you hear?” With tears in her eyes, Helen could only nod.
The forest was hushed, and Ivan lay motionless on the ground. After a while a gray figure crept out from behind the bushes. It was the Gray Wolf! It had gone far away, but something had left it uneasy, and it had quietly turned back. When it saw Ivan lying beneath the tree, it let out a low, sorrowful whimper.
“My dear boy,” the Gray Wolf said, gently licking Ivan's face, “I came too late. Don't be afraid. I will save you.” It lifted Ivan onto its back and raced off into the distance. Its destination was the two marvelous springs at the edge of the world.
On the way, the Gray Wolf crossed high mountains and a desert, until at last it found the springs. First it fetched the water of death and sprinkled it gently over Ivan's wounds. A wonderful thing happened: every wound closed little by little, and the pain slowly faded away, though Ivan still lay with his eyes closed, not moving at all.
Then the Gray Wolf fetched the water of life and carefully sprinkled it on Ivan's face. The cool droplets slid down his cheeks, and Ivan's eyelashes trembled. Slowly he opened his eyes and asked softly, “Have I been asleep a very long time?”
The Gray Wolf smiled tenderly. “Yes, you have slept a long time. But now it is time to wake.”
Ivan sat up and found that all his wounds were healed. The Gray Wolf told him everything: how the two brothers had taken the treasures, how Helen had been forced to lie, and how at this very moment they were in the palace preparing a celebration, about to present the Firebird and the golden-maned horse to the Tsar. Ivan listened, angry and anxious. “Helen must be so unhappy! Let's hurry!”
“Hold on tight!” The Gray Wolf lifted Ivan onto its back and raced off, the wind roaring in their ears. They crossed mountains and ridges and did not stop until they had reached Ivan's homeland.
The palace blazed with lights and was full of guests. The two brothers stood proudly before the Tsar, presenting the Firebird and the golden-maned horse. Princess Helen sat to one side, head bowed, silent, not looking at them. Suddenly the doors of the great hall flew open, and Ivan strode in.
The Tsar leapt to his feet in astonishment. “Ivan? My child, you are alive!” Ivan told the whole story honestly: how the Firebird had been found, how the horse had been won, and how his brothers had struck him while he slept and taken the treasures.
Princess Helen could keep silent no longer. She stood up and said bravely, “Everything Ivan says is true! He saved me, and he brought back the Firebird and the golden-maned horse. They forced me to lie!”
The great hall fell silent. The Tsar looked at his two elder sons, who hung their heads, and sighed deeply. “Deceit and envy have hurt your own brother. From today you will leave the palace and go out into the world to learn what honesty and hard work really mean.”
The Tsar turned and embraced Ivan joyfully, then took Helen's hand. “Brave and honest child, welcome to our family.” He announced on the spot that the wedding of Ivan and Helen would take place the very next day!
On the wedding day, the whole palace was hung with lanterns and ribbons, and bells rang out across the entire city. Ivan wore a brand-new robe and Helen a sparkling crown of flowers, and hand in hand they walked down a corridor strewn with blossoms. The people all came to wish them well, children scattered petals, and the cheers rang on and on. Ivan laid his feather gently beside the Firebird's wing, and the Firebird let out a clear song, as if to say, “Congratulations!”
At the feast, everyone raised their cups and laughed, but Ivan quietly looked out the window. Far off at the edge of the forest, a gray figure stood silently in the setting sun, nodded to him, and then quietly turned and ran back into the woods. Ivan whispered in his heart, “Thank you, my dear friend the Gray Wolf!”
From that day on, Ivan and Helen lived together happily. The Firebird sang sweet songs in the royal garden, and not one more golden apple ever went missing from the tree. Whenever the moon rose at night, people said they could almost hear, far away in the forest, the Gray Wolf's gentle howl, watching over their happy days.
