Seven Simeons

Beyond many seas and islands, beyond high mountains and wide rivers, on a plain as flat as a tablecloth, there stood a great town. Its ruler was Tsar Archidei, son of Aggei, and so people called him Archidei Aggeivitch.

He was a famous tsar and a clever one. His riches could not be counted and his soldiers were beyond number. His kingdom held forty times forty towns, and every town had ten palaces with silver doors, golden ceilings and splendid crystal windows. He had twelve wise counsellors, each with a beard half a yard long and a head stuffed with wisdom, and not one of them would dare to tell him a lie.

How could such a tsar be anything but happy? Yet it is true that neither wealth nor wisdom brings happiness when the heart is uneasy, and hearts ache even in golden palaces. Tsar Archidei was rich, clever and handsome too, but he could not find a bride who was his equal in brains and beauty, and that made him gloomy and unsettled.

One day, as he sat in his golden armchair staring out of the window, he noticed a foreign ship coming in to the wharf opposite the palace. The sailors furled the white sails, dropped the heavy anchor and laid out the gangplank, and at their head walked an old merchant with a white beard who looked like a wise man. “Merchants who sail the seas know a great deal,” thought the Tsar. “Perhaps they have come across a princess somewhere, beautiful and clever, who would suit me.”

He had the merchants brought to the palace at once. They came in, prayed before the icons in the corner, bowed to the Tsar and to his counsellors, and were served cups of strong green wine. When they had drunk and wiped their beards on embroidered towels, the Tsar said, “You bold sea traders cross all the great waters and see many marvels. I want to ask you something, and I want a straight answer with no tricks.”

“So be it, mighty Tsar,” they replied, bowing.

“Then tell me: is there anywhere, in any empire or kingdom or great prince’s court, a maiden as beautiful and wise as I am, fit to be my wife and the tsaritsa of my land?”

The merchants looked at one another, puzzled, and after a long silence the eldest spoke. “I have heard that far across the great sea there is an island called Buzan, and on it a great country. Its king has a daughter named Helena, as beautiful as you are, I would say, and wise as well. A wise man once spent three years trying to solve a riddle she set him, and failed.”

“How far is this island, and which roads lead there?”

“It isn’t near,” said the old merchant. “By sea it would take ten years, and we don’t know the way. And even if we did, I don’t think Princess Helena is the bride for you.”

“How dare you say such a thing, you long-bearded old goat?” shouted the Tsar.

“As you wish, but think about it. Suppose you sent an ambassador to Buzan. It would take him ten long years to get there and ten more to come back, twenty years in all. By then the loveliest princess would be old. A girl’s beauty is like a swallow; it flies away soon.”

The Tsar grew thoughtful. “Thank you, travelling merchants,” he said. “Go with God and trade in my kingdom free of all taxes. As for the beautiful Princess Helena, I will think about her myself.”

The merchants bowed low and left. The Tsar sat and pondered but could find neither the beginning nor the end of the problem. “I’ll ride out into the open fields,” he said at last, “and forget my troubles in the hunt. Perhaps an answer will come.” The falconers came, golden trumpets sounded, and the falcons and hawks dozed under their little velvet hoods on the hunters’ fists as the company rode out to a wide plain to hunt herons and swans.

Now, my listeners, a fairy tale moves quickly but life does not. The Tsar rode for a long time until he came to a green valley and a beautifully tended field where the golden ears of wheat stood ripe. He stopped to admire it. “Good, honest farmers must own this land,” he said. “If every field in my kingdom were looked after like this, my people would not know hunger, and we’d have grain to spare to sell overseas for silver and gold.” He sent his men to find out who owned the field.

Huntsmen, grooms and servants dashed off in every direction and soon found seven fine young men, fair-haired and rosy-cheeked, sitting at their dinner in peasant fashion: rye bread, onions and clear water. They wore red shirts with gold braid at the neck and looked so alike that one could hardly tell them apart. “Whose field is this golden wheat?” asked the Tsar’s men. “It’s ours,” the seven answered cheerfully. “We ploughed it and we sowed it.” “And who are you?” “We are peasants of Tsar Archidei Aggeivitch, farmers and brothers, sons of one father and mother. Every one of us is called Simeon, so we’re the seven Simeons.”

The Tsar sent for them at once. The seven Simeons came and bowed, and the Tsar looked them over with his bright eyes. “Who are you, whose field is so well kept?”

The eldest answered for them all. “We’re your peasants, simple folk without any learning, all children of the same father and mother and all named Simeon. Our old father taught us to pray, to obey you, to pay our taxes honestly and to work without rest. He also taught each of us a trade, because, as the saying goes, a trade is no burden but a profit. He told us to save our trades for a rainy day but to stay with our own field and be content and plough and harrow well. He used to say that if you don’t neglect mother earth but harrow and sow her at the right season, she will repay you with plenty of bread, and give you a soft bed for your long rest when you are old and tired.”

The Tsar liked this plain speech. “Well said, my good fellows, tillers of the soil and gatherers of gold. Now tell me, what trades did your father teach you?”

“My trade isn’t a clever one,” said the first Simeon. “Give me materials and workmen and I’ll build you a pillar of white stone that reaches past the clouds almost to the sky.”

“Good enough! And you, second Simeon?”

“Mine is simple too. If my brother builds the pillar, I’ll climb to the top and see every empire and kingdom under the sun and everything that goes on in them.”

“Not bad either,” smiled the Tsar. “And you, third Simeon?”

“Mine is just a peasant’s trade. Your learned foreign shipwrights build ships as their learning teaches them. But if you ask me, I’ll knock one together, one, two, and it’s ready, a plain peasant’s ship. Only where a foreign ship sails for a year, mine sails for an hour, and where theirs takes ten years, mine takes a week.”

“Well, well!” laughed the Tsar. “And you, fourth Simeon?”

“No wisdom in mine either. If my brother builds a ship, I’ll sail it, and if an enemy chases us or a storm blows up, I’ll grab the ship by its black prow and pull it down under the water where everything is calm. When the storm has passed or the enemy has gone, I’ll bring it up to the surface again.”

“Good! And you, fifth Simeon?”

“Mine isn’t a pretty trade; I’m a blacksmith. Build me a forge and I’ll make you a gun that fires by itself, and no eagle in the sky or beast in the forest will be safe from it.”

“Not bad at all. Your turn, sixth Simeon.”

“Mine is hardly a trade,” said the sixth Simeon modestly. “Whatever my brother shoots, bird or beast, wherever it is, I’ll catch it before it hits the ground, better than any hunting dog. If it falls into the sea, I’ll find it on the sea bed. If it falls into the dark forest, I’ll find it there in the middle of the night. If it gets caught in a cloud, I’ll find it even there.”

The Tsar liked all these simple, amusing trades, and he liked the way the peasants talked. “Thank you, my faithful farmers,” he said. “Your father was right: a trade is no burden but a profit. Come to my capital and show me what you can do. When harvest time comes, I’ll send you home with my royal favour.” The brothers bowed low. “Your will is ours. We are your obedient subjects.”

Just then the Tsar noticed the youngest brother and remembered that he had not asked him anything. “And you, seventh Simeon, what’s your trade?”

“I have none, Your Majesty. I learned plenty, but none did me any good. There is one thing I do very well, but I’m not sure you would like it.”

“Tell me your secret,” ordered the Tsar.

“Not yet. First give me your royal word that you won’t put me to death for the gift I was born with, but will show me mercy. Then I’ll tell you.”

“Granted. I give you my royal word, true and unbreakable, that whatever you tell me, I’ll be merciful.”

The seventh Simeon smiled, glanced round, shook his curls and said, “My trade is the one your kingdom shows no mercy to, and it’s the only one I’m good at. I steal, and I hide every trace of how and when. There isn’t a treasure or a prize, not even an enchanted one, nor a hiding place so secret that I couldn’t take from it if I wanted to.”

The Tsar flew into a rage. “No! I’ll show you no mercy, you thief and burglar! I’ll have you put to death! I’ll have you chained in my underground prison on bread and water until you forget your trade!”

“Great and merciful Tsar, wait a moment and hear me out,” begged the seventh Simeon. “We have an old Russian saying: the thief isn’t the one who isn’t caught, nor even the one who steals, but the one who puts him up to it. If I had wanted to steal, I’d have done it long ago. I’d have stolen your treasure, your judges would gladly have taken a little share, and I’d be rich in a white stone palace. But mark this: I’m only a simple peasant. I know how to steal, but I won’t. You wanted to know my trade, so how could I hide it from you? And if you put me to death for telling the honest truth, what is your royal word worth?”

The Tsar thought for a moment. “This time I won’t have you killed, since it pleases me to be gracious. But from this day and this hour you shall not see the light of day, the bright sun or the silver moon, nor walk freely in the open fields. You, my dear guest, shall live in a palace where no ray of sunshine ever reaches. Servants, chain his hands and feet and take him to the chief jailer. You six Simeons, follow me. You have my favour, and tomorrow each of you will start working for me according to his gifts.”

So the six brothers followed the Tsar, and the youngest, the best loved of them all, was seized by the servants, dragged off to the dark prison and loaded with chains.

The Tsar sent carpenters, masons, smiths and every other kind of workman to the first Simeon, with bricks, stone, iron, clay and mortar. Simeon set to work at once in his plain peasant way, wasting no time on clever schemes, and in no time the white pillar was finished. How high it was! It reached up among the great planets, the little stars were below it, and from the top people looked like beetles. The second Simeon climbed up, looked about, listened, and came down to tell the Tsar everything that was happening under the sun: which king was fighting which, where there was war and where there was peace. He even let slip a few astonishing secrets that made the Tsar smile, and when the Tsar smiled, the courtiers roared with laughter.

Meanwhile the third Simeon crossed himself three times, rolled up his sleeves, took an axe, and one, two, without any hurry at all, built a ship. What a strange ship it was! When it was ordered to sail, it skimmed off like a white-winged hawk, its cannon firing, while musicians played the old national tunes on strings stretched between the masts in place of rigging. As soon as it reached deep water, the fourth Simeon seized the prow and the whole ship sank like a stone without leaving a trace. An hour or so later he brought it up to the blue surface again with his left hand, and with his right he presented the Tsar with a magnificent sturgeon for his fish pie.

The fifth Simeon built a forge behind the palace. He blew the bellows, heated the iron and hammered away with a great clatter until he had made a gun that fired by itself. The Tsar went out into the fields with him and spotted an eagle flying high, high up under the sky. “There’s an eagle, lost in gazing at the sun,” he said. “Shoot it. If you’re lucky enough to hit it, I’ll reward you.” Simeon shook back his hair, smiled, loaded a silver bullet, took aim and fired, and down plummeted the eagle. The sixth Simeon didn’t let it touch the ground. Quick as a flash he ran underneath it, caught it on a big plate and presented it to the Tsar.

“Thank you, my brave, faithful farmers!” cried the Tsar happily. “I can see you’re all real masters of your trades, and you shall be rewarded. Now go and eat and rest.” The six bowed, prayed before the icons and went off to dinner. They had just sat down, swallowed a cup of green wine each and picked up their round wooden spoons to tackle the cabbage soup, when the Tsar’s jester came running in, jingling the bells on his striped cap. “You ignorant country bumpkins! Is this any time for dinner when the Tsar wants you? Hurry!”

The six ran to the palace, wondering what had happened. Guards with iron staffs stood at the doors. Inside, all the wise and learned men were gathered, and the Tsar sat on his high throne looking grim. “Listen to me, my clever Simeon brothers,” he said. “My counsellors and I agree that since the second Simeon can see everything under the sun, he should climb that pillar and look to see whether there really is an island called Buzan beyond the great sea. See whether there’s a mighty kingdom on it with a mighty king, and whether that king really has a daughter, the beautiful Princess Helena.”

The second Simeon bowed and dashed off so fast he forgot his cap. He climbed the pillar, looked about, came down and reported. “Your Majesty, I’ve done as you asked. Far across the sea I saw the island of Buzan. Its king is mighty, proud and merciless. He sits in his palace and says the same thing over and over: ‘I am a great king and I have the most beautiful daughter, Princess Helena. Nobody in the whole world is lovelier or wiser than she is, and there is no bridegroom anywhere under the sun good enough for her, no tsar, no king, no prince. I’ll give her to no one, and if anyone dares to court her, I’ll make war on him, ruin his land and take him prisoner.'”

“How big is his army,” asked the Tsar, “and how far is his kingdom from mine?”

“By my eye, a ship would take ten years less two days to get there, or a bit more if the weather was stormy. His army is no small one. I counted a hundred thousand spearmen and a hundred thousand armed men, and he could raise another hundred thousand or more from his court, his servants and their helpers. On top of that he keeps a special reserve of guards, well fed and pampered, for emergencies.”

The Tsar sat silent for a long while. Then he said to his court, “Warriors and counsellors, I have only one wish: to marry Princess Helena. Tell me how I can reach her.”

The wise counsellors said nothing and tried to hide behind one another. Then the third Simeon looked round, bowed and said, “Forgive my simple words, Your Majesty, but you needn’t worry about getting to Buzan. Sail on my ship. She’s plainly built, with no clever tricks, but where others take a year she takes a day, and where others take ten years she takes about a week. Just have your counsellors decide whether we should fight for the princess or woo her peacefully.”

“Well, my brave warriors and wise counsellors,” said the Tsar, “what do you say? Who will go and fight for the princess, or who is clever enough to bring her here peacefully? I’ll heap gold and silver on him and make him first among the first.”

Again the warriors and counsellors were silent. The Tsar was growing angry and seemed about to say something terrible, when out popped the jester from behind the wise men, as if someone had asked his opinion. He shook his striped cap, rang his bells and shouted, “Why so quiet, wise men? Why so deep in thought? You have big heads and long beards, so you must be full of wisdom. Why not show some? Getting the bride from Buzan needn’t cost any gold or soldiers. Have you forgotten the seventh Simeon already? It’ll be easy for him to steal Princess Helena. Then let the King of Buzan come and fight us; we’ll welcome him as an honoured guest. Only remember, it’ll take him ten years to get here, and in ten years… why, I once heard of a wise man who promised to teach a horse to talk in ten years!”

“Good! Good!” cried the Tsar, forgetting his anger. “Thank you, striped fool. You shall have a new cap with jingling bells, and each of your children shall have a gingerbread pancake. Servants, run and fetch the seventh Simeon!”

The heavy iron gates of the prison were flung open, the chains were struck off and the seventh Simeon stood before the Tsar. “Listen carefully, seventh Simeon,” said the Tsar. “I had almost decided to grant you a great honour, to keep you in my prison for life. But if you prove useful, I’ll set you free and give you a share of my treasure as well. Can you steal the beautiful Princess Helena from her father, the mighty King of Buzan?”

“Why not?” laughed the seventh Simeon. “There’s nothing hard about it. She isn’t a pearl, and I don’t suppose she’s under very many locks. Just have my brother’s ship loaded with velvet and brocade, Persian rugs, fine pearls and precious stones, and send my four brothers with me. Keep the two eldest here as hostages.”

No sooner said than done. The Tsar gave his orders, everyone rushed about, and it was all ready before a girl with short hair could have braided it. The ship was loaded with velvet, brocade, rugs, pearls and jewels, and the five brothers bowed to the Tsar, spread the sails and were gone. The ship flew over the blue water like a hawk beside the plodding merchant ships, and a week after leaving home the five Simeons sighted the island of Buzan.

The island bristled with cannon as thick as peas, and gigantic guards marched up and down the shore, fiercely twirling their great moustaches. As soon as the ship came into view, a voice called from a tower through a speaking trumpet, “Stop! Answer! Who are you, and why have you come?”

“We’re peaceful folk, friends not enemies,” called back the seventh Simeon, “merchants who are welcome everywhere. We’ve brought foreign goods to sell, buy and trade, and gifts for your king and princess.”

The five brothers lowered a boat, filled it with the finest velvets, brocades, pearls and jewels, covered it all with Persian rugs, rowed to the wharf beside the king’s palace and carried their gifts straight to the king.

Princess Helena was sitting in her tower room. She had eyes like stars and eyebrows like dark sable. A glance from her was like a gift, and when she walked she moved like a swan gliding on the water. She quickly noticed the handsome brothers and sent her nurses and maids to find out who the strangers were. The seventh Simeon told them, “We’re merchants, peaceful people, from the country of Tsar Archidei Aggeivitch, a great tsar indeed. We’ve come to trade, and we have gifts for the king and the princess. We hope the king will be kind enough to accept these trifles, if not for himself then for the lovely ladies of his court.”

When Helena heard this, she had the merchants brought in. They bowed low, unrolled their bright velvets and golden brocades and scattered pearls and gems such as Buzan had not seen before. The nurses and maids gaped, and the princess herself looked delighted. The seventh Simeon, quick to notice, smiled and said, “Everyone knows you’re as wise as you are beautiful, so you must be teasing us. These ordinary goods are far too plain for you. Give them to your nurses and maids for everyday clothes, and send these stones to the kitchen boys to play with. On our ship we have velvets and brocades of quite another kind, and jewels more precious than anyone has ever seen. We didn’t dare bring them, in case they didn’t suit your taste. If you would come yourself and choose, everything is yours, and we’d thank you for a single glance of your lovely eyes.”

The princess liked the handsome Simeon’s polite words, and she went to her father. “Father, some foreign merchants have come with goods that have never been seen in Buzan. Let me go aboard their wonderful ship and choose what I like. They have rich presents for you too.”

The king frowned and scratched behind his ear before he answered. “Very well, my beautiful daughter, as you wish. Counsellors, make my royal ship ready, load the cannon and send a hundred of my bravest warriors to escort it, and a thousand heavily armed soldiers to guard the princess on her way to the merchants’ ship.” So the king’s ship set out, bristling with cannon and soldiers, while the king stayed calmly at home.

When they reached the merchants’ ship, a crystal gangway was laid across, and Princess Helena went aboard with all her nurses and maids. They had never seen or even dreamed of such a ship. The guards kept watch from the royal vessel. The seventh Simeon showed his lovely guests all round, chatting smoothly and slowly unfolding his treasures, and the princess listened and looked about, very pleased.

At that very moment the fourth Simeon, who had been waiting for his chance, seized the prow, and down went the ship into the mysterious deep where nobody could see it. On the king’s ship people screamed with terror, the soldiers stood about like dazed fools and the guards just goggled. What could they do? They turned back to the island and went before the king with their dreadful news.

“Oh, my daughter, my darling Helena!” wailed the king. “Heaven is punishing my pride. I wouldn’t let you marry. I thought no king or prince was good enough for you, and now you’re married to the deep sea, and I’m left alone for the rest of my miserable days!” Then he rounded on his men. “You fools! What were you thinking? You’ll all lose your heads! Guards, throw them in the dungeons! They shall die such a dreadful death that their great-great-grandchildren will shiver to hear of it!”

While the King of Buzan raged and grieved, the brothers’ ship swam under the blue water like a golden fish. When the island was out of sight, the fourth Simeon brought it up again, and it rose onto the waves like a white gull. By now the princess was beginning to feel they had been away a long time. “Nurses, maids, we’re taking our time looking around, but my father will think we’ve been gone ages.” She hurried up on deck, and there was nothing but the wide sea all around, as smooth as a mirror. Where was her island? Where was the royal ship? Only blue water everywhere.

The princess screamed, beat her breast, turned herself into a white swan and flew up into the sky. But the fifth Simeon was watching. In a flash he fired his lucky gun and hit the swan. The sixth Simeon caught it, but in his hands the swan became a silvery fish and slipped away. He caught the fish, but it turned into a little mouse and scurried about the deck. Simeon didn’t let it reach a hole. Faster than a cat he caught the mouse, and there stood Princess Helena again, just as lovely as before, fair-faced and bright-eyed.

One fine morning a week later, Tsar Archidei sat by his window, gazing out at the wide blue sea. He was sad at heart and could not eat. Feasts bored him, fine dishes had no taste and the honey drink seemed weak. All his thoughts were of Princess Helena. What was that far out on the water? A white gull? Or were those white wings really sails? It was no gull. It was the Simeons’ ship, racing in as fast as the wind that filled its sails, cannon booming and music playing on the strings between its masts. Soon it was anchored, the crystal gangway was laid, and out stepped Princess Helena like a sun that never sets, her eyes like bright stars. Oh, how happy Tsar Archidei was!

“Quick, my faithful servants, my officers, my guards and all you useful and decorative people of my palace! Fire the rockets and ring the bells to welcome the beautiful Princess Helena!” Everyone rushed to fire, ring and fling open the gates, and the Tsar himself came out, took the princess by her white hands and led her into the palace.

“Welcome, welcome!” he said. “I had heard of you, Princess, but I could not have imagined such beauty. Yet, much as I admire you, I don’t want to take you from your father. Say the word and my servants will carry you home to him. But if you choose to stay in my kingdom, be tsaritsa of my land and rule over me too.”

Princess Helena gave him such a look that it seemed to him the sun was laughing, the moon was singing and the stars were dancing all around him.

Well, what more is there to say? You can guess the rest. The courtship was short and the wedding feast was soon ready, since kings have everything at their command. The Simeon brothers were sent off to the King of Buzan with a letter from his daughter: “Dear father, mighty king, I have found a husband after my own heart and I ask your blessing. My bridegroom, Tsar Archidei Aggeivitch, sends his counsellors to invite you to our wedding.”

Just as the ship came in to Buzan, crowds had gathered to watch the execution of the unlucky guards and soldiers who had let the princess vanish. “Stop!” shouted the seventh Simeon from the deck. “We bring a letter from Princess Helena!” The king was overjoyed, and so were all his people. The letter was read aloud and the condemned men were pardoned. “It seems,” said the king, “that the handsome, clever Tsar Archidei and my beautiful daughter are fated to be husband and wife.” He entertained the envoys and the brothers royally and sent his blessing back with them, since he was very old and did not want to travel.

When the ship returned, Tsar Archidei rejoiced with his bride and summoned all seven Simeons. “Thank you, my brave farmers! Take as much gold and silver as you like and ask for anything your hearts desire. If you want to be nobles, you’ll be the greatest of the great. If you want to be governors, you shall each have a town.”

The eldest Simeon bowed and answered cheerfully, “Thank you too, Your Majesty. We’re simple people with simple ways. It wouldn’t suit us to be nobles or governors, and we don’t want your treasure either. We have our father’s field, and it will always give us bread when we’re hungry and money when we’re in need. Let us go home with your kind word as our reward. If you’ll be so good, give us an order that keeps the judges and tax collectors off our backs, and if we ever do wrong, let you alone be our judge. And please pardon the seventh Simeon, our youngest brother. His trade is a bad one, certainly, but he isn’t the first or the last to have such a gift.”

“Let it be as you wish,” said the Tsar. Every request of the seven Simeons was granted, each of them drank a big cup of green wine from the Tsar’s own hands, and soon afterwards the wedding was celebrated.

Now, ladies and gentlemen, don’t judge my story too harshly. If you like it, praise it; if not, forget it. The story is told, and a word is like a sparrow: once it has flown, you can’t call it back.

About this tale

“Seven Simeons” is the third tale in Verra Xenophontovna Kalamatiano de Blumenthal’s Folk Tales from the Russian (Project Gutenberg #12851) and the longest in the collection. Blumenthal keeps the storyteller’s voice throughout. The teller breaks off to remind “my listeners” that “the fairy tale is quick, but life is not,” and closes with a word to the “honorable dames and gentlemen” and the saying that a word is like a sparrow. Her notes and asides explain Russian household words such as kulibiaka, a fish pie; stchi, cabbage soup; moujik, a peasant; and the terem, the upper rooms where a princess lived.

The tale belongs to the family of stories about brothers or companions with extraordinary skills that complement one another in a shared undertaking. Here the Tsar condemns the youngest brother’s skill until he wants to use it to abduct Helena.

Read the original: Verra Xenophontovna Kalamatiano de Blumenthal, Folk Tales from the Russian (Project Gutenberg #12851)

For older readers: arbitrary imprisonment, abduction for marriage, a princess shot while trying to escape in bird form, and soldiers nearly executed for failing to prevent a magical kidnapping. The eventual wedding does not erase the coercion that precedes it.

Reading the story closely

Archidei promises mercy before the youngest Simeon speaks, then imprisons him for possessing a skill he says he has not used. Later the same ruler orders him to use it. Put the promise, punishment and commission side by side: the standard changes when theft serves the ruler’s desire. The final request for protection from judges and tax collectors makes more sense against this experience of unstable authority.

Helena’s actions also change the meaning of the team’s success. She agrees to inspect goods, not to leave her country; when she discovers the deception she tries three forms of escape. Only at Archidei’s court does he offer a choice to return, after which the story gives her an approving look and a letter expressing consent. Track those moments separately. The ending affirms the marriage within the tale, but cooperation among the brothers does not by itself justify what they cooperated to do.

Think about it

• Which of the seven Simeons’ talents would you most like to have, and why?
• Why is the Tsar so angry with the seventh Simeon, and what changes his mind?
• Why do you think the brothers turn down gold and titles at the end?

Related stories

• Ivanoushka The Simpleton — another long Blumenthal tale of a tsar, a princess and a clever ‘simple’ hero
• The Tsarevna Frog — another Russian tale where a princess changes shape
• The Firebird, the Horse of Power, and Princess Vasilisa — a tsar sends a young man across the sea to fetch a princess