Pan and the Storyteller

A wealthy lord loved listening to fairy tales. It often happened that no matter what someone told him, he would believe it to be true.

One day, this lord wanted to hear a tale so unbelievable that he wouldn’t believe it. So, he announced everywhere: “If anyone tells me a tale that makes me say, ‘You’re lying,’ I’ll give that person a plate of gold.”

A storyteller named Yanka came forward. He went to the lord and said:

— My lord, set out the plate of gold, and I’ll tell you a tale.

The lord placed a plate of gold on the floor, sat down in his armchair, and lit his long-stemmed pipe.

— Well, go on. But beware, lest you end up with a whipping instead of gold.

Yanka squatted in front of the plate and began his tale:

— My lord, what strange things happen in this world! Once, something extraordinary happened to me. It was back when my father hadn’t even been born yet. I lived with my grandfather. There was nothing to do at home, so my grandfather sent me to tend bees for a beekeeper. This beekeeper had fifty hives. Every morning, I had to count the bees and drive them to pasture. In the evening, I’d bring them back, count them again, milk them, and herd them back into the hives. The beekeeper warned me: “If you lose even one bee, I won’t pay you for the whole year.” It was no easy job!

— Anything’s possible, — the lord agreed.

Yanka glanced at the plate of gold and continued:

— One evening, I brought the bees back from pasture and counted them. One bee was missing! Oh no, trouble was brewing! I ran back to look for the bee. It was getting dark. I searched everywhere but couldn’t find it. Suddenly, I heard a bee roaring. I looked and saw seven wolves attacking my bee on the other side of the river. The poor thing was fighting them off with all its might, refusing to give up. I rushed to help. When I reached the river, there was no way to cross. What could I do? The wolves were about to tear the bee apart. Without thinking, I grabbed my forelock, swung myself, and leaped over the river! But I didn’t make it to the other side—I fell into the middle of the river and sank like a stone. I came to my senses and started looking for a way out. But, as luck would have it, someone had lit a fire at the bottom of the river, filling the water with smoke so thick it stung my eyes. Even the fish were snorting, and I couldn’t see a thing. I fumbled around and suddenly saw a bear. I tried to grab its tail, but it turned its head toward me. So, I stuck my hand down its throat, found its tail, and grabbed hold. The bear got scared, bolted upward, and pulled me out. It ran off into the forest in a panic, and I was left on the wrong bank. So, I grabbed my forelock again, swung harder than before, and jumped back across the river!

— Who knows what happens in this world, — said the lord. — Maybe it’s true.

— It’s true, my lord, but with a catch. Anyway, I landed on the other bank with such force that I sank waist-deep into the ground. I struggled but couldn’t get out. I thought, “I need a shovel.” So, I ran home, grabbed a shovel, and came back. I dug myself out and ran to help the bee. When I got there, I chased the wolves away, but the bee was already dead—the wolves had killed it while I was running around. What could I do? I covered the bee with a branch so the wolves wouldn’t eat it and went to tell the beekeeper.

“Trouble,” I said. “What trouble?” he asked. “The wolves killed a bee.” The beekeeper got so angry, he stamped his feet and yelled, “Now I won’t pay you a penny!” I stayed silent. I was at fault.

After calming down, the beekeeper asked, “Did the wolves eat the bee?” “No.” “Well, that’s good, at least the bee’s still whole. Let’s go get it.”

We hitched two pairs of oxen and set off. In the meadow, we skinned the bee, chopped the meat into pieces, and brought it home. We salted it—it filled twelve barrels. The beekeeper and I ate that meat all year.

— Who knows what happens in this world, — said the lord. — Maybe it’s true.

— Well, when the year ended, the beekeeper kicked me out without paying me a single penny. All I managed to get from him was a piece of wax. I molded a little horse out of it, mounted it, and rode to my grandfather’s place—after all, my father still hadn’t been born. I rode and rode until I reached a forest. I got hungry. I sniffed the air and smelled something roasting. I rode up to a spruce tree and saw fried woodpeckers squeaking in a hollow. Well, hunger is no joke. I tried to reach into the hollow with my hand—no luck. I tried with my foot—no luck. I tried with my head—no luck. Finally, I threw my whole body into it and got in. I ate as many woodpeckers as I wanted and tried to get out. I tried with my hand—no luck. I tried with my foot—no luck. I tried with my head—no luck. I strained with my whole body—still no luck. I remembered the beekeeper had an axe behind his bench. I ran, grabbed the axe, chopped a bigger hole in the hollow, and got out.

— Who knows what happens in this world, — said the lord. — Maybe it’s true.

— I got out, mounted my little horse, tucked the axe into my belt, and rode on. The axe kept chopping and chopping... Suddenly, the horse stopped and wouldn’t budge. I looked back—half the horse was gone! The axe had chopped it off! Curse it! I carved a stick from a willow, stitched the horse back together, and rode on. But the willow started growing and growing—it grew all the way to the sky. I thought, “I’ll climb up and see what’s going on up there.”

The lord stopped puffing on his pipe:

— And what did you see in the sky?

— Oh, my lord, what didn’t I see up there! I walked across the sky and saw saints having a party in one hut: drinking, celebrating, singing merry songs. I wanted to join them, but I thought better of it—no need to get mixed up with drunkards, they might beat me up. I walked on. In another hut, Saint Nicholas was snoring under the table like he’d sold a load of wheat at the market. He must’ve had quite a drink.

— Who knows what happens in this world, — said the lord. — Maybe it’s true.

— And it’s true! I saw it with my own eyes. I went up to Nicholas, thinking maybe I could get something to eat. But no such luck! The bottles on the table were empty, not a crumb of bread in sight. I looked around and saw a golden hat lying near the host. I thought, “I’ll take Nicholas’ hat. I’ll stop at a tavern on the way, and they’ll feed me for it.” I took the hat and left. But then Nicholas woke up and started looking for his hat. It was gone! He made such a racket... I thought, “I’d better run home, or I’ll be in big trouble.” But I couldn’t find the spot where the willow grew from the horse. I searched and searched—no willow. Suddenly, I saw saints winnowing buckwheat on a threshing floor. The chaff was scattering all over the sky. I started catching it and twisting it into a rope. I tied one end to the sky and began descending to the ground. I reached the other end of the rope, but the ground was still far below. I was stuck between heaven and earth. Luckily, I had my little axe with me. I chopped off the end of the rope, sharpened it, and kept descending.

— Who knows what happens in this world, — said the lord. — Maybe it’s true.

— I kept sharpening and sharpening, and before I knew it, I slipped through the earth and ended up in hell. I walked through hell, looking around at everything. Suddenly, I saw your late father—thin, barefoot, and ragged—herding pigs.

The lord’s eyes bulged, and his pipe fell from his mouth:

— You’re lying, you scoundrel! It can’t be that my father was herding pigs!

And with that, Yanka grabbed the plate of gold and ran out the door!

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Pan and the Storyteller

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