What follows is my personal adaptation of a very old folk tale of slavic origin: Vasilisa the Brave and Baba Yaga. There are many versions of this story, including a lovely book by Marianna Mayer. Visit the following links to check out other verions and further information on this story:
Vasilisa the Brave and Baba Yaga
Once, in a time so long ago that only bare bones now remain to tell the tale, there was a young mother lying on her deathbed. At her side, sat her husband and their beautiful daughter, Vasilisa, listening carefully to the woman’s last words. After saying farewell to her faithful husband, she turned to Vasilisa and said:
“Here is a doll for you which I have crafted with my own hands. Take good care of her, feed her and love her and she will be a friend and a guide when hope is gone and you are alone in this wide world. Tell no one of her and keep her hidden always in your apron pocket. This is my Blessing upon you.”
From beneath the coverlet the mother drew a small doll, dressed as Vasilisa was, in a red dress, white apron and black kerchief. Even as she handed the doll to her grieving daughter, the mother fell back onto her pillows and her spirit left this world.
For a long time the father and daughter mourned the woman’s death and were alone together in the old house. One day, the father came home with a widow woman and her two daughters and said to Vasilisa,
“Here is a new mother for you, so that you will not be without a mother’s love. And here are two sisters for you, that you will not be without playmates or help in your household chores.”
While the new mother and sisters were always kind to Vasilisa when her father was around, when he was away they showed their true natures. They chided Vasilisa, ordered her to do all the chores on her own, and bestowed upon her no kindness or love. Vasilisa was a kind young maiden and did their bidding without complaint and for fear of hurting her father, she never breathed a word of the cruelty she was enduring.
In just a few short years, Vasilisa’s father took ill and soon died. Vasilisa was left alone with the three scornful women who hated her for her sweet nature and beauty. She was made to do the washing, cleaning, cooking and mending and in an attempt to roughen her fine features she was even forced to chop the firewood. But because of her purity, all of this work only added a healthy glow to her already lovely face.
Had she been truly alone, Vasilisa might have sunk into despair for she had no where to run away to and knew no one who could help her. But throughout the years since her mother’s death Vasilisa had tended to her little doll, giving her food and love and sharing with her the innermost secrets of her heart. In return, the doll would comfort Vasilisa and offer her words of encouragement and advice. In this way only was Vasilisa able to keep her good nature.
Seeing that nothing they could do would ruin Vasilisa’s figure or beauty, the step-mother began to worry that her own daughters (whose features were hard and uncomely) would be overlooked by suitors who would of course favor the prettier Vasilisa. With the help of her daughters, she concocted an evil plan to rid their lives of the maiden forever.
That evening when Vasilisa returned from gathering wood for the fire, she found the house bathed in utter darkness. Concerned, she asked her step-mother what had happened. The step-mother answered in a whining and helpless voice:
“The fire has gone out and there is no way to relight it. Someone must go out into the woods to where Baba Yaga lives and beg for a burning coal with which we can kindle a new fire. But I am so old and my daughters are too afraid and not strong enough to make the journey. You must go Vasilisa, and do not return without a light.”
Vasilisa, being an obedient girl, went at once to her room to prepare for the journey. As she gathered together the bread and water she would need for nourishment, her little doll asked her,
“What is the matter, dear Vasilisa? You seem afraid and yet, you are packing for a journey.”
“There is no coal to light to fire and step-mother has sent me to fetch a light from the witch, Baba Yaga, who lives deep in the forest. I fear I shall never return at all, for it is said that Baba Yaga feeds upon human flesh.”
“Fear not. Carry me with you in your pocket and I will keep you company. While I am with you, harm cannot befall you.”
Vasilisa set out on her way through the forest. As she walked she ate a little of her bread and fed the doll in her pocket from the same loaf. There was a full moon to light the path but if she peered into the trees around her, the darkness was full of shifting shadows and glowing eyes. She reached into her pocket and touched her doll. As she did so she felt her bravery return and continued on, eyes focused on the path ahead.
As the moon faded and the night came to an end a pale horseman came galloping by on a majestic white stallion. His face and hair were ghostly white, as was his helm and armor. As quickly as he appeared, he was gone again, leaving behind a gossamer trail of silver light. Dawn was breaking. Vasilisa heard a bird sing and soon the whole forest was preparing to welcome the day.
Shortly, a second rider appeared. He was dressed in flaming scarlet, his face was sunburnt and his eyes blazed. His steed was a bright red chestnut and as it raced by, sunlight pierced the trees and the chill of night was gone.
All that day Vasilisa continued on her journey, and when she was uncertain of which path to take she would ask her little doll and the doll would reply, “this way,” or “that way” or “do not go there.”
As evening was coming on Vasilisa again heard a rider approach. This one wore armor of ebony and rode a black stallion. Behind him, night slowly fell like blanket over the land. As the darkness deepened Vasilisa came to a clearing and what she saw struck terror in her heart. What seemed to be a hut, raised on stilts, was spinning round and round in a crazy rhythm. The hut and the yard around it were lit up by glowing human skulls on the gate posts of a fence made of bones. As Vasilisa came nearer, the hut came to a sudden stop with its door facing the gate. From over head came a whirling and whooshing sound and when Vasilisa looked up she saw a large mortar flying through the sky and in it, rode the terrible witch, Baba Yaga, holding onto a giant pestle in one hand and sweeping away the path behind her with the other. Quickly the witch descended from the sky and was soon standing on the ground just inside the gate. As soon as her feet touched the ground her long, crooked nose began to sniff about and she spoke in her deep powerful voice:
“I smell the flesh and blood of a young maiden hiding in the brush nearby. Come out, I command you, or I shall find you and devour you.”
Clutching the doll in her pocket for courage, Vasilisa forced her shaking legs to move and she soon stood in the clearing just outside the skull gate. She took a deep breath, bowed to Baba Yaga and then spoke in as clear a voice as she could muster:
“I am Vasilisa, grandmother, and my step-mother and step-sisters have sent me, for our fire has gone out and we have no coal with which to light it. I was told to ask Baba Yaga, the wise woman of the woods, if we might borrow a coal so that our house will not be forever in darkness.”
“I know of your step-mother, and step-sisters too. Sad excuses for relations, they are. Well, you may have your light but you must meet all my conditions. You must live here with me and do as you are told until I am satisfied that you are deserving of this light.”
With a word of command from Baba Yaga, the skull gate flew open and Vasilisa found herself being ushered through the gate, up the rickety stairs and into the strange hut that no longer even shuddered.
Inside the hut she found Baba Yaga was already seated comfortably at a table by the fire. She fixed Vasilisa with her dark eyes and frowned, as if already she had determined that this innocent maiden would be unable to meet even the simplest of demands. Not giving the girl a moment to rest or get her bearings, Baba Yaga ordered her to remove everything from the oven and serve it her immediately.
“I have worked up an appetite in my travels and if I am not fed now, I shall considering eating even the living flesh on your bones. It would at least make a decent appetizer.”
Vasilisa got to work instantly and soon the table was overflowing with meats and stews and breads of all kinds. Vasilisa watched as the witch ravenously ate every last morsel. Without offering even so much as a slice of bread to the hungry Vasilisa, Baba Yaga sat back in her chair and clapped. A pair of disembodied hands appeared as if from nowhere and began stuffing a pungent tobacco into a long, elaborately carved pipe. Baba Yaga took the pipe, began to puff at it, and clapped again to dismiss the hands. After what seemed like ages of silence, she looked at the maiden and said:
“Tomorrow, while I am away, I want you to sweep the yard, scrub the hut so that every last speck of dust is gone, launder the linens and cook me a fine meal. Outside you will find a bushel of wheat. You must separate the wheat from the chaff, leaving not one tiny piece of chaff with the wheat. If I find that this is not all done, and done well, I will have you for my supper.”
With that, the witch suddenly closed her eyes and began to snore.
Vasilisa found a dark corner to lie down in and was soon shaking with fear and doubt. The little doll crept from her hiding place in Vasilisa’s pocket and whispered quietly so as not to wake the witch:
“Do not worry, dear Vasilisa. Tonight you must rest and when you awake we will attend to all the tasks she commanded of you.”
Vasilisa awoke to see the pale horseman gallop across the clearing and not far behind came the flaming red horseman on his chestnut stallion. Behind him came the sun and light was soon pouring in through the windows, illuminating everything.
When Baby Yaga opened her eyes she wasted no time in calling for her magical mortar and pestle and with a sharp, toothy smile at Vasilisa she climbed into the mortar and flew away.
So much work and so little time. Vasilisa could not even decide where to begin. Her doll, however, soon leapt from her pocket and ran out of the little hut. In no time at all she was speedily sorting the wheat from the chaff. Vasilisa was amazed that the little doll could work with such agility, she was soon done with the wheat and in no time at all was sweeping the yard, scouring the hut and tending to the laundry. With these tasks attended to, Vasilisa focused on preparing a feast for the ravenous Baba Yaga. She made pastries with cheese, kneaded dough into large round loaves of bread, prepared a hearty beef stew with vegetables of all kinds, and baked a whole salmon, along with onions, mushrooms and rice. When she finished, it was a feast worthy even of the Tzar himself.
The day hurried by and soon Vasilisa heard the hooves of the black horseman riding through the clearing. Night descended and the skulls on the gate lit up with an eerie glow. Not long afterwards, Baba Yaga came flying into the clearing.
When the witch entered the hut she peered about and ran her fingers along the walls and shelves, ready to find that the tasks were not complete. But everything was as she had commanded, clean, sorted, and swept. Ignoring Vasilisa she called for her otherwordly servants, the strange hands who had the night before prepared her pipe, and once they had appeared they set to work grinding the wheat into the flour. When they had finished and disappeared again, Baba Yaga turned her crooked nose towards the oven and sniffed.
“Well, let us see if you are as good a cook as you are a housekeeper,” Baba Yaga demanded as she settled herself into her chair by the table.
Vasilisa brought each platter to the table and the witch was soon tearing gleefully at the sumptuous dishes. She ate and ate until every crumb had been devoured and when she sat back she sighed with satisfaction.
“I am most pleased with your work. Since you have shown such industry and skill, I shall expect even more of you tomorrow. Every window must be washed and not a streak should be left to obscure my view. In one of the haystacks out back, I once lost a needle. You must find it. Of course, I also expect a supper equal in magnificence to the one you served tonight. Oh, and tonight while I sleep I want you to go through the barrel of poppy seeds that sits in the corner. When I wake in the morning I expect every particle of dust to be removed from that barrel so that each single seed is clean and pure.”
As she had the previous evening, Baby Yaga then closed her eyes and immediately fell into a deep sleep. Vasilisa sat in her dark corner, already sorting poppy seeds from dust, and began to cry. Her doll again crept from her pocket and began to comfort her with words of encouragement and kindness.
“Do not worry, dear Vasilisa. You are tired from the day’s work. Rest now and I will sort the poppy seeds.
Vasilisa fell into a peaceful sleep, lulled by the soothing voice of the small doll singing a lullaby her mother had once sung to her.
When Vasilisa woke to the sounds of the horsemen’s hooves, the pale and then the fiery, she saw that Baba Yaga was inspecting the barrel of poppy seeds. Finding not a single particle of dust in the entire barrel, she snorted through her long boney nose and swept out of the hut without a word.
The doll soon went to work on all the tasks and Vasilisa again spent the entire day preparing another fabulous meal. By the time the black horseman rode through the clearing, the needle had been found, and the windows sparkled. And, of course, a wonderful feast sat ready for Baba Yaga’s return.
Soon, Vasilisa felt the little hut begin to shake, heard the wind howl and the gate of bones rattle–everything in the clearing announced Baba Yaga’s return. In she strode, looking this way and that, looking for even the tiniest fault in Vasilisa’s work. Finding none, she clapped her hands, the strange hands appeared and began pressing the poppy seeds into oil. When they had finished Baba Yaga ordered them away and sat down for her meal.
Baba Yaga then sat down and ate every last morsel placed in front of her. When she had finished, she licked her long bony fingers, settled herself back and began puffing on her pipe. All the while Vasilisa sat quietly in a chair beside the stove.
“Well, girl…” the witch snapped. “You have done all that I asked of you. Ask a question of me, if you dare. For surely their is something you would like to know. But remember, too much knowledge can make you old too soon.”
Vasilisa thought back over the last few days and spoke:
“I would never have dared ask but since you demand it of me, I would like to know of the three horsemen who ride through the forest every day at the same times. What are they?”
The witch smiled slightly before she answered:
“The white horseman is my dawn. The red, is my servant, my bright sun. And the black horseman is my night. Now, have you other questions? Ask now!”
Vasilisa remember the strange hands Baba Yaga called on to do her bidding. She was just opening her lips to ask about them when she felt the little doll jump up and down frantically in her pocket. Instead, she said,
“I have no other questions, grandmother. I do not wish to have too much knowledge and grow old too soon.”
Baba Yaga curled her lips and raised her eyebrows at this response. Then she cackled.
“You are wise enough already I think, to only ask of things outside my hut. Those who ask of things inside this hut never again see the light of day. My teeth are not sharp for nothing.”
This time, when the witch smiled, she showed her pointed teeth, and they shone bright in the firelight. Vasilisa shuddered and put her hand in her pocket to stroke her doll. Baba Yaga continued:
“Since you have nothing more to ask, I will ask you a question. How is it that you were able to complete all the tasks I commanded of you?”
Vasilisa did not want to lie but she also felt she could not reveal her secret, that her little doll had made it all possible. So she stuttered,
“By my mother’s blessing.”
At this response, the witch shrieked and stood up suddenly.
“Get out! Get out of my hut! I will have no such blessings in my home!”
Vasilisa sprang up and was out the door in mere seconds. Behind her she heard the witch ordering the skull gate to open. Vasilisa turned back as she ran through the gate and heard Baba Yaga command her stop.
“Do not leave without the prize you came for.”
She grabbed one the glowing skulls from the gate and placed it on a stick. As she handed it to Vasilisa she said:
“Take this to your step-mother and step-sisters. Make certain that you give it to them. Now go before I change my mind and have you for dessert.”
Vasilisa took the stick with shaking hands, and without saying a word, she took off into the forest. The light from the skull helped her find her way as she traveled throughout the night. When morning came the light extinguished. She walked on through the day and when dusk began to fall the skull again lit up with an eerie light. Not long after sundown she saw the dark outline of her home ahead. There were no lights in the windows, for the step-mother’s plan had worked all too well. During Vasilisa’s absence the women had been unable to spark even a single small flame.
Before Vasilisa entered the house she considered setting the skull outside but when she went to do so, the skull spoke in a commanding tone:
“Baba Yaga ordered you to give me to you step-mother and step-sisters. Do not disobey her.”
Frightened, but resolute, Vasilisa carried the skull inside and found her step-mother and step-sisters huddled in a dark corner. One of the step-sisters spoke:
“You have brought a light! Thank heavens, for we have been in darkness since you left.”
Just then, as if hearing the step-sister’s voice, the skull turned towards the three women and glared at them through empty sockets. The women were frightened and tried to run away from the strange light. But everywhere they went the skull’s bright eyes followed and the light became so hot that it burnt them all to ashes. Vasilisa was untouched by the light but was so terrified that she took the skull and buried it in the yard. Then she packed a few belongings and set off towards the village that lay nearby.
There she met a kindly old widow with no children of her own who took the maiden in as if she were her own. The woman was a weaver and having no apprentice, she taught Vasilisa the skills of dyeing fiber, spinning into thread, and weaving it into beautiful fabrics which she sold at the market. Vasilisa was a fast learner and was soon making fabric so rich and beautiful that the two women were able to live quite well on the income.
One day Vasilisa wove a fabric so light and lovely, and with such finely spun thread, that the old woman declared she would not sell it because it was fit only for the Tzar himself. She took the fabric to the palace and bade someone give it to the Tzar as a gift. When the Tzar saw it he was entranced by its beauty and ordered a fine robe be made from it. But the tailors would not cut the fabric–it was more lustrious than any they had seen before and they told the Tzar that it was beyond their skill to cut it properly. The Tzar sent for the old woman who had brought the fabric and ordered her to cut it. But she replied:
“Your Majesty, I cannot cut the fabric for it was not I who made it. My daughter wove it and only she has the skill to cut it.”
The Tzar sent for Vasilisa and when he beheld her he fell instantly in love, for she very lovely and he could see in her eyes that she was kind hearted and blessed with a wise and loving nature. Vasilisa happily cut the fabric and gave it to the tailors to sew. But when she turned to leave the Tzar spoke:
“Vasilisa, you are a skillful and beautiful woman. I have never met the likes of you before. Will you consent to be my wife? I promise to love you always and you will never lack for anything.”
Vasilisa smiled and consented at once. For she too had fallen in love when she first saw the Tzar’s bright eyes and heard his wise and gentle voice. They were married that very day and the old woman came to live with them in the palace.
This is how a young woman, orphaned as a maiden and left to the mercy of wicked and uncaring women, became the wife of the Tzar himself. Though she had many responsibilities and was soon a mother, as well, Vasilisa never abandoned her little doll. She carried her in her pocket always and when she was alone they would speak of their travels and remember Baba Yaga and wonder where she was and what she was doing now.
copyright 2008 Elicia M. Arwen
