The Golden Cup

In a certain land, there lived a husband and wife. The husband went off to war and said to his wife—who was soon to give birth:

— If you bear a son, he will be an orphan.

And indeed, the woman gave birth to a son, and she named him Sirotinka (Little Orphan). His father never returned from the war.

The mother and son lived in great poverty. The mother worked tirelessly to feed her son.

Fifteen years passed, and the mother had not laughed or smiled even once during all that time.

The son asked:

— Mother, why do you never laugh?

— Ah, my son, there’s nothing for me to laugh about.

But the son replied:

— Mother, your hardship is over. Now I will work for you.

Then the mother laughed.

— My life, she said, now it suits me to laugh.

The boy set off to seek his fortune.

Not far away, in the mountains, lived two robber brothers. The sun rose, and the young man approached the mountain.

— What do you want? — the robbers shouted.

— Nothing, I come to you in friendship, not in enmity. Would you like a servant?

— We would. What is your price?

— I am fifteen years old, and you shall pay me fifteen rubles. Give me seven now, and eight at the end of the month.

They gave him seven rubles, and he took them to his mother, saying:

— Here, Mother, and I will bring the other eight at the end of the month.

Then he returned to the robbers. They fed him, gave him drink, and said:

— Come, we will show you what you must do.

They had sixteen horses. One was so wild—he had been tied up at five months old, and they could not release him until he was five years old, for they were afraid.

— Here is a pot, here is water, and here is fire. Fetch water and feed the horse that is tied up, but beware—he is wild and might harm you.

They said this and went off to rob. Sirotinka took the pot off the fire, went to the horse, untied him, bridled him, jumped on, and flew after the robbers. He caught up with them, whipped each one, and galloped back.

One robber said:

— That is our horse.

But the other replied:

— Are you out of your mind? Who could bridle him?

They returned and saw that the horse was in place, the pot was there, everything as it had been. They went to sleep.

In the morning, one robber took two horses, and the other hid at home. Sirotinka was sent to fetch spring water. He did not see that one robber had stayed behind.

When he returned, he thought both had left. He ate, then took the pot, removed it from the fire, untied the horse, bridled him, jumped on, and rode off.

The robber who had stayed behind watched, trembling—he had been a robber for thirty years—and thought: “What is this fifteen-year-old boy doing? When he grows up, what will he do to us?”

Sirotinka rode his horse and saw the robber with two horses. He realized they had found out about him and grew thoughtful.

— My fate is sealed. They will kill me, they will not let me live.

But the robbers themselves feared him. They wondered what to do, how to deal with him.

They said to him:

— Run, Sirotinushka, fetch some spring water.

While Sirotinka was gone, his fate would be decided: whether he would live or die.

The elder robber said:

— Let us kill him.

But the younger one said:

— No, let us make him our leader.

They called Sirotinka and said:

— Be our elder brother, and we will follow you through fire and water.

Sirotinka thought, thanked them, and agreed.

They decided to feast that night.

They brought Sirotinka a cup—a special cup: if filled with wine, it turned to gold; if filled with water, it turned to silver. This cup was for the leader.

Morning came, and Sirotinka put the cup in his pocket. A month passed.

Sirotinka came and said to the brothers:

— Give me eight rubles, I will take them to my mother.

— Our money is yours, and all our belongings are yours. And your mother is our mother.

Sirotinka led out his wild horse, bridled him, and said to the brothers:

— Wait for me in three days, on the fourth.

— We will not move from this spot, — said the robbers.

Sirotinka rode home. He galloped into the yard, jumped off his horse.

— Here, Mother, your money.

He stayed with his mother for three days and said:

— Mother, I must leave tomorrow at noon. Bake me some bread for the journey.

His mother baked bread and various pastries, and they feasted at their farewell.

The fourth morning came. Dawn broke, and Sirotinka left the yard.

The sun rose and grew hot. Sirotinka stopped by a stream, unsaddled his horse, let him graze, took out a chicken and bread, and looked around—hoping someone would appear so he would not have to eat alone.
He sees three carts moving along the road, followed by an old merchant. And these carts are his.

"Come, father, let's eat together," Sirotinka called out to him.

And everything was ready for him; he took out a cup, poured wine, and said:

"This is for your arrival, for our meeting."

He drank and handed the cup to the merchant:

"Now you drink."

But the old man grabbed the cup and hid it under his coat.

"Mine!" he shouted.

Just then, the bailiff arrived with all twelve guards.

The merchant swung at him. Sirotinka couldn't hold back and struck him.

The merchant cried out, and the bailiff said:

"Why are you hitting the old man?"

The merchant shouted:

"I have only one cup, and he wants to take it."

"This is my cup," said Sirotinka. "I have more like it."

They took the cup from them. They gave Sirotinka three months' time, ordered him to bring two hostages: if he brought two more such cups within three months, the merchant would be hanged for lying; if Sirotinka didn't bring them, his hostages would be hanged.

Sirotinka signed, and the merchant signed as well.

Sirotinka arrived at his brothers' place in the evening, and they ran up, helped him off his horse. Sirotinka was sad.

"Why are you so downcast?" his brothers asked.

"Let's have supper," said Sirotinka, "then I'll tell you."

They ate, and Sirotinka told them everything and said:

"You must go in my place."

"Why are you grieving? Go, look for the cups. We'll meet again, and everything will end well."

Sirotinka set off. He rode and searched for the cups.

He rode and rode, and by morning he arrived at a village, where he saw an old widow sitting and spinning.

"Mother, for the love of all mothers, I am tired, I beg you, let me rest. I'll fall asleep to the hum of your spindle."

She agreed. Sirotinka lay down and fell asleep. Suddenly, he heard the old woman weeping and wailing.

Sirotinka woke up—it was noon—and asked:

"Why are you crying? If I am unwelcome, tell me, and I'll leave."

"No, my son, in that temple, in a golden coffin, lies the dead son of our king. Every night they send someone to guard the coffin, but not one has returned alive. Today it's my only son's turn—that's why I weep, for I will never see him again."

"Don't cry, I'll go in his place," said Sirotinka, "only have three hundred bricks stacked by the temple doors by sunset, and give me some wine to drink, and you lie down, sleep peacefully."

He went in the evening, and the bricks were already there.

Sirotinka entered the temple, lifted the coffin with the dead man, placed it under the dome, in a niche, and sat down below. He sat and waited. Above was the dead man, below was Sirotinka.

Soon the people fell asleep, the candles were extinguished, and a dove flew into the temple.

"How free it is today, no one is guarding," said the dove and turned into a girl, so beautiful that everything around her lit up.

The girl went up to the dead man, took out two whips, struck him with one—and the young man came to life. The night passed like this, and in the morning the girl struck him with the second whip and killed him.

Sirotinka jumped out and grabbed her. She flew up, and Sirotinka with her. He held her, wouldn't let go.

The girl was frightened. "I'm lost," she thought. She threw the whips and flew away.

Sirotinka was overjoyed, picked up the whips. What a find!

He left the temple, and the old widow met him, rejoicing, kissing his feet.

"Mother, give me something to eat," said Sirotinka.

He was soaked through, as if wrung out. From the struggle.

"Go and tell the king I can revive his son."

The old woman went to the king. The king was overjoyed, couldn't stand on his feet from happiness.

"Just revive him, whatever you ask—it's yours. Even take my whole kingdom. I will serve you," he said to Sirotinka.

They went to the temple.

Sirotinka struck with the whip—and the king's son came to life. They led him to the palace, rejoicing.

They weren't embracing the prince, but Sirotinka. They said to him, asked:

"Tell us, how can we reward you?"

Sirotinka showed them the cup and said:

"Do you have such a cup? Give it to me."

"No, we don't have such a cup," they told him.

"Well, if you don't, then you don't," said Sirotinka and left.

He walked and walked, came to another kingdom. He saw people walking around naked. Sirotinka was amazed:

"What is this? Where has this been seen?"

The king of that country told him: "Do you see that kingdom across the sea? Over there, their clothes rot—they have nowhere to put them, and here our bread spoils, goes bad."

"Why don't you trade, bring clothes for yourselves?"

"Everything perishes in the sea."

"I'll go, bring them," said Sirotinka.

"If you bring them, ask for whatever you want," said the king.

They loaded the ships and set sail.

Sirotinka stands, gazing at the sea. He sees a hand emerge from the water, a golden ring on its finger. He strikes the hand, and a woman rises from the water. And what a woman! She lit up everything around her.

Sirotinka grabs her, holds her tight, and doesn’t let go. She struggles free but leaves the golden ring in his hand.

Ships sail across the sea and return with clothes.

Everyone rejoices.

“What shall we give you for this?” they ask.

“Do you have a cup like this?” Sirotinka asks.

“No, we don’t have such a cup,” they reply.

“Well, such is my fate,” Sirotinka says and moves on.

He walks and walks. He passes through the entire kingdom and sees a road lined with willow trees. On one of the willows, high above the ground, hangs a beautiful girl by her hair, golden slippers on her feet.

She calls out to the young man:

“Save me, free me from this trouble, take me down, and I’ll be your wife.”

“How can I take you down?”

“Come closer, I’ll step on your shoulders and climb down,” she says.

He approaches and stands still. She kicks him and stomps him into the ground! She has killed many young men this way. But Sirotinka breaks free, grabs her, and she flies away, leaving only one golden slipper in his hands.

He continues on his way. He walks and walks. He sees a garden, and in the garden, a small house. An old woman sits in front of the house.

“What are you doing here, mother?” Sirotinka asks.

“Well, you see that castle over there? Three sisters live there, and I serve them. I’m not a homeless widow; I have a home and a family, but they kidnapped me and forced me to serve them.”

“Can I see those girls without them noticing me?” the young man asks.

“Of course, you can,” the old woman says. “Come with me.”

She leads him to the tall castle.

Inside, there is a table laden with all kinds of food, ready for dinner. The old woman hides him under the table and leaves. The three sisters come out.

“Let’s have dinner,” they say.

They sit at the table.

“Let’s make toasts,” the eldest sister says. “I fell in love with the son of a king, but his parents angered me, so I killed him. Every night I bring him back to life, and by morning I kill him again. But a young man appeared and defeated me. He’s still young, but when he grows up, he’ll be a hero, capable of taking on seven kingdoms alone. Let’s drink to his health!”

The second sister says:

“I starved one kingdom and froze another. A young man defeated me and even took my golden bracelet. He’s a brave one; may God grant him health!”

The third sister says:

“What’s so surprising? That young man even took a slipper from my foot. May it bring him luck. Let’s drink to his health.”

Then Sirotinka emerges and says:

“Well, pour me a drink too, so I can thank you.”

“Why have you come here?” the sisters ask.

Sirotinka looks at the table and sees the kind of cup he’s been searching for.

“I came for a cup like this,” he says. The elder sisters tell the youngest:

“Go, bring him forty cups.”

Sirotinka takes all forty cups and carries them away.

He passes by the kingdom whose ship he saved and whose clothes he retrieved, and says:

“Here’s a cup from me as a keepsake.” He gives them one cup.

He passes by the kingdom whose son he brought back to life and says:

“Here are two cups for you.”

He thinks to himself, remembering how long he’s been gone and how much time is left, worrying about his sworn brothers.

It turns out he still has nine days of travel left, but only four days remain until the deadline. What should he do? How can he save his brothers?

The king whose son he saved asks him:

“Why are you sad?”

“How can I not be sad? I’m about to lose two brothers. They’re dying for me, and I’m running late. There are still nine days of travel left.”

“Don’t worry,” the king says. “I’ll get you there in nine hours. Just enjoy the feast; I’ll take care of everything.”

The king calls for the bird Pashkundzhi.

“Where should I take him?” Pashkundzhi asks.

They tell her.

“I’ll get him there in three hours,” Pashkundzhi says, “but first, let me eat properly.”

She eats nine buffaloes and tells Sirotinka:

“Tie yourself to me with a rope, and make it tight. Know that with every whistle of mine, the wind rises so strong that beech trees lose their branches and crash into each other.”

Sirotinka ties himself tightly. Pashkundzhi takes off, flying like an airplane.

Meanwhile, the eyes of his sworn brothers, the robbers, are already blindfolded, and the priest is about to read the last rites. They are about to be hanged.

Suddenly, Pashkundzhi swoops in, strikes the priest with her wing, knocking him over, and removes the blindfolds from the brothers’ eyes.

The three sworn brothers see each other and faint from joy.

The judge orders the merchant to be executed immediately and all his wealth to be given to the brothers.

Sirotinka says:

“We don’t need his wealth. Give it to widows and orphans.”

And Sirotinka throws a grand feast for all the common folk.

I was there too, and I feasted heartily. But when I returned… it was as if I had never been anywhere.

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The Golden Cup

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