The Golden Mountain

There was once a merchant’s son who enjoyed spending money a little too much, and one day he found that it was all gone. He had nothing left to eat or drink. So he picked up a shovel and went to the market square to see whether anyone would hire him.

Along came a proud, enormously rich merchant in a gilded carriage. As soon as the labourers in the square saw him coming, every one of them ran off and hid in the corners. Only one man stayed where he was, and that was our merchant’s son.

“Looking for work, young fellow? I’ll hire you,” said the rich merchant. “Fine. That’s why I’m here.” “What do you charge?” “A hundred rubles a day will do.” “Why so much?” “If it’s too much, find somebody else. There were plenty of men here, but they all ran away when they saw you coming.” “All right. Come to the wharf tomorrow.”

Early next morning the young man went to the wharf, where the rich merchant was already waiting. They boarded a ship and sailed out to sea. After a long voyage they sighted an island with tall mountains, and near the shore something seemed to be blazing. “Over there, it looks like a fire,” said the merchant’s son. “No, that’s my golden palace.”

When they landed, the rich merchant’s wife came hurrying to meet him with their daughter, a girl lovelier than anyone could imagine or even dream of. They greeted each other and went up to the palace, and the new workman went with them. They all sat round an oak table, eating and drinking merrily. “The first day doesn’t count,” said the merchant. “Let’s enjoy ourselves and save the work for tomorrow.”

The young workman was brave, handsome and tall, and the merchant’s daughter liked him very much. She slipped out of the room and signalled him to follow. Outside she handed him a touchstone and a flint. “Take these,” she said. “When you are in trouble, they will help you.”

The next day the merchant led his workman to a high golden mountain. The young man saw at once that there was no way to climb it, not even on hands and knees. “Well,” said the merchant, “let’s have a drink for courage.” He handed him a sleeping draught, and the young man drank it and fell asleep.

The merchant then killed a worn-out old horse, slit it open, pushed the sleeping workman inside along with the shovel, sewed the hide shut and went to hide in the bushes. Soon black crows with iron beaks came flying. They grabbed the carcass, carried it up to the top of the mountain and began to tear at it. They had finished the horse and were about to start on the merchant’s son when he woke, beat them off, looked round and shouted, “Where am I?”

From below, the rich merchant called back, “On the golden mountain. Take the shovel and dig for gold.” So the young man dug and dug, tossing down all the gold he found, and the merchant loaded it into carts. “That’s enough!” shouted the master at last. “Thanks for your help. Goodbye!” “But how do I get down?” “However you like. Ninety-nine fellows like you have already died up there. You’ll make it a round hundred.” And the proud merchant drove away.

“What can I do?” thought the young man. “There’s no way down, and if I stay I’ll starve to death.” Overhead the black crows with iron beaks were circling, as if they already knew they would have their meal. He tried to think how all this had happened, and he remembered the lovely girl and the touchstone and flint, and how she had said they would help him in trouble. “She must have had something in mind. Let’s try.”

He struck the flint against the stone once, and suddenly two strong young men stood before him. “What is your wish? What are your orders?” “Carry me down from this mountain to the seashore.” At once they took hold of him and set him gently on the beach.

He walked along the shore and soon saw a ship sailing near the island. “Ahoy, good people! Take me with you!” “No time to stop!” they called, and sailed past. But then the wind rose and a heavy storm blew up. “That fellow must be no ordinary man,” the sailors decided. “We’d better go back for him.” They turned the ship round, landed, took him aboard and carried him home to his own town.

Some time later, a long time or perhaps a short one (who can say?), the merchant’s son took his shovel to the market square again to look for work. The same rich merchant drove up in his gilded carriage, and as before all the workmen fled at the sight of him, leaving the merchant’s son standing alone. “Will you work for me?” “I will, for two hundred rubles a day. If you agree, let’s get started.” “That’s an expensive man.” “If I’m too dear, go and hire someone cheap. There were plenty of people here, but you can see for yourself that not one stayed when you arrived.” “Oh, very well. Come to the wharf tomorrow.”

They met at the wharf and sailed to the island. They spent the first day merrily, and on the second, master and workman went off to work. At the foot of the golden mountain, the rich merchant offered his man a glass. “First, have a drink.” “Wait, master. You’re the head of things, so you should drink first. Let me treat you this time.” The young man had brought some sleeping draught of his own, and he quickly stirred it into the wine and handed it over. The proud merchant drank and fell fast asleep.

The merchant’s son killed a miserable old horse, slit it open, pushed his master and the shovel inside, sewed it up and hid in the bushes. Black crows with iron beaks came swooping down, lifted the horse with the sleeping merchant inside, carried it to the top of the mountain and set about their meal.

When the merchant woke, he looked this way and that. “Where am I?” “On the golden mountain. Now that you’ve had a nice rest, don’t waste time. Take the shovel and dig, and dig fast, and I’ll tell you how to get down.” The proud merchant had no choice. He dug and dug until twelve big carts were full. “That’s enough!” called the merchant’s son. “Thank you, and goodbye!” “And what about me?” “You can do as you please. Ninety-nine fellows have died up there before you. You’ll make a hundred.”

The merchant’s son drove the twelve heavy carts of gold to the golden palace and married the lovely girl. She became mistress of all her father’s riches, and the merchant’s son and his family moved to a big town to live. And the proud, rich merchant? He ended up like all the men he had left on the mountain, a meal for the black crows with iron beaks. Well, sometimes that is just how things turn out.

About this story

“The Golden Mountain” is the eighth of the nine tales in Verra Xenophontovna Kalamatiano de Blumenthal’s Folk Tales from the Russian (Project Gutenberg #12851). The book’s frontispiece by Lucy Fitch Perkins shows the scene where the merchant’s daughter gives the young man the touchstone and flint.

Blumenthal tells the story in two matching halves. Each half has the same market square, the same scattering workmen, a sleeping drink, a horse’s hide and the iron-beaked crows. The central reversal in the second half is who ends up on the mountain; the returning worker also knows the trap and brings his own sleeping drink. The young man even names a higher price the second time. Blumenthal ends with a dry comment, “sometimes it happens just so,” which this telling keeps.

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

Reading guidance: older readers. Includes drugging, slaughtered horses used to transport captives, the deaths of ninety-nine workers and a revenge killing by abandonment. The final reversal is disturbing, not simply satisfying justice.

Reading the story closely

The workers fleeing the market reveal knowledge the newcomer lacks. A high wage therefore disguises the real terms of the job: the employer does not intend the worker to return. On the second journey, the young man gains the same power over another person’s survival, and uses the merchant’s own language to announce abandonment.

Extend the existing two-halves comparison by marking what the young man knows at each repeated scene. Then trace the daughter’s gift, the one act that offers escape rather than a new victim. The ending rewards the couple with wealth but gives little account of her response to her father’s death or of the earlier workers’ families.

Think about it

• Why do all the workmen hide when the rich merchant arrives, and why doesn’t the merchant’s son?
• How does the girl’s gift save the young man, and why do you think she gave it to him?
• Was it fair for the young man to leave his master on the mountain? Give a reason for your answer.

Related stories

• The Three Kingdoms: Gold, Silver, and Copper — another Russian hero left stranded on a mountain who finds magic helpers
• Ivanoushka the Simpleton — Blumenthal’s tale of a younger brother who comes out on top
• Dimian the Peasant — a short, sharp Russian tale from the same book