The Story Traveller (14 page)

Lucy hadn't been asleep very long, when a strong smell wafted past her nose, which began to twitch, and then a strange humming noise invaded her dreams, followed by a brightly coloured spinning top, which raced past her at breakneck speed. The humming became so loud it eventually woke her.

She opened one eye and then quickly closed it. Then she opened both. But there was no mistake; there, sitting at the end of her bed, was Thomas Murphy, and while the leprechaun sat as still as stone, his hat was rushing round in fast and noisy circles.

‘How yer, story traveller?' Thomas Murphy asked, as he stood up, caught his spinning hat in one hand (the other was clutching his pipe) and bowed to the amazed Lucy.

‘Good evening, Thomas Murphy,' she eventually managed to reply. ‘I never expected to see you again.'

‘Well, I felt a wee bit bad. Maybe I wasn't so nice to ye last time we met. In fact, I was a bit of an eejit and ye being such a brave and honest lassie! So I've come to make me apologies.'

By now Lucy was fully awake and she sat up and tucked her knees under her chin.

‘You've travelled all the way from Ireland to apologise?'

‘I'd be fibbin' if I said so. I've come from Peterborough.'

‘And what are you doing at Peterborough?' the puzzled girl asked. ‘I thought leprechauns rarely travelled far from home.'

‘Tis true. But once a year I take a holiday and visit me adopted family.'

‘You've adopted a family?'

‘Aye. When I was a wee green leprechaun, many, many moons ago, in fact so far back I can't remember, I adopted a local Irish family called Murphy and moved in with ‘em. That's why I'm known as Thomas Murphy: named after the chief of the clan.'

‘Why would a leprechaun adopt a family?'

‘Because sometimes we get a wee bit bored all on our own. Move in with a family an ye can play all sorts of tricks on ‘em. It's a life of Reilly and great fun.'

‘For you maybe!' Lucy said with a little smile. ‘I'm not sure how the Murphys feel.'

‘Oh, they always know when I move in, they have since day one and I never stay too long, but along with the tricks I also bring ‘em good luck.'

‘So why Peterborough?' Lucy was really enjoying this story.

‘Potato famine! Me family had to emigrate to England to find work an' ended up at Peterborough. So once a year, for a week, I pay a flying visit and remind ‘em of their roots.'

‘Well their luck is my good luck,' Lucy laughed. She didn't know whether to say their good luck or bad luck, but felt sure the family had a soft spot for the wee man, who had been a regular visitor for hundreds of years.

‘I see ye keep yer four-leaf clover close.' Thomas picked up the small package lying on Lucy's bedside table.

‘Indeed, and it's already brought me luck,' Lucy told Thomas, who looked pleased.

‘I've some more for ye. I thought ye might like to give some to yer friends and family,' and from his hat Thomas produced a bunch of four-leaf clovers. Lucy was delighted. ‘Thank you, Thomas. Thank you, thank you!' Lucy tried to hug the little man, but he leapt quickly out of reach.

‘No need for that! No mollycoddling!' he said gruffly, but what looked like a smile flitted across his face.

‘Your visit has made this a red letter day,' Lucy told the leprechaun as he settled himself down on her duvet again.

‘Away with ye!'

‘Yes it has. An apology from a leprechaun and a big bunch of four-leaf clovers, I really am a lucky girl.' Lucy suddenly noticed Thomas was about to light his pipe.

‘Do you mind not smoking here, Thomas? My mum and dad will smell it and think I've been lighting candles again.' Thomas stuck his pipe in his mouth unlit and looked searchingly at Lucy.

‘I've another reason for calling on ye; a more serious one.' Lucy looked into Thomas's eyes and for once they weren't dancing with mischievous fire. ‘I hear on the leprechaun line that yer about to go to Russia, to meet Vasilisa.'

‘Yes, I'm just waiting for my instructions.'

‘Well, unless I'm very much mistaken ye'll be met by Baba Yaga.'

‘Surely not?' said Lucy with some alarm. ‘Isn't she a really evil witch?'

‘She can be quite a divil, but leprechauns can be bad too. Ye've met me so know that.' ‘But you've a lovely kind and good side to you, too, Thomas.'

‘And so does Baba Yaga. Like us, like all Irish leprechauns, Baba Yaga can be good and bad.' ‘I wouldn't call leprechauns bad,' Lucy said indignantly. ‘Mischievous perhaps.'

Thomas agreed, but went on to say:

‘Yer see in Russian folklore there're no fairy tales.'

‘So, how come I'm going to meet Vasilisa?'

‘There're no fairy tales in Russian because there're no fairies. There're magic tales and magic beings and Vasilisa is a magic tale of a heroine and the witch Baba Yaga turns up in this tale, as she does in many other Russian stories.'

‘It's a funny name Baba Yaga. What does it mean?'

‘Well, in north Russia, where ye'll be goin, they used to call a small stone statue a Yaga and then, when Russian soldiers moved into the area, they called them Golden Baba, so Baba Yaga means a stone statue, usually a local goddess. Then folk began to put these little statues in tiny huts, built on tree stumps an' would fill the huts with gifts, so they could ask for their goddess's help.'

‘So the story of Baba Yaga originates from people praying to a goddess?'

‘Aye. In folk-lore Baba Yaga can decide a person's fate. If they enter her hut, which I might add is built on chicken legs, they live or die, depending on what they say or do. She would never harm a good person like Vasilisa, but would kill an' even eat a wicked one.' ‘I hope she won't think me wicked!' Lucy really felt nervous. Thomas burst out laughing, something he wasn't used to. ‘Ye wicked! Oh lassie, ye'll have no problem. For one thing ye're a good person and for another ye're a story traveller an' like the fairies, the little people, an' the leprechauns, Baba Yaga needs story travellers to survive.'

‘I've heard that said before!' Lucy was not sure she should continue with her plans to visit Russia.

‘She may look like an ugly old witch, an' she
is
an ugly old witch,' Thomas told her. ‘But she's tremendously powerful an' ye should fear
an'
respect her.'

‘So I'm right to be frightened?'

‘To a point: just enough to make sure ye don't do anything stupid or tell any lies. She'll know. There's no foolin' Baba Yaga. She's certainly a witch with a difference, because, though like most witches Baba Yaga can fly, she doesn't use a broomstick.'

‘Does she have wings like a fairy?'

‘Oh naw! A witch with wings, that would niver do. It would really upset the fairies! Naw: to fly she sits in a giant mortar an' uses the pestle as a rudder. Now lassie, I'm telling you all this, so ye won't be too surprised when ye meet her.'

‘Thanks, Thomas. I think I would have run away from her if we hadn't had this talk.'

‘Never do that little one,' the leprechaun said. ‘Just be yerself.' Thomas sprang up and jammed his pointed hat back on his head. ‘I must be off now. I've got to alter all the alarm clocks in the Murphy household,' he said with a chuckle.

Lucy carefully took the bunch of four-leaf clovers and put them in her drawer, then she turned to say goodbye to the little man.

‘Oh, one more useful piece of information: like us leprechauns Baba Yaga always tells the truth, if yer brave enough to ask a question.'

‘Thanks again Thomas, Slan.'

‘Slan, Lassie.'

Thomas's hat once again began to rotate faster and faster, although this time the noise made Lucy very sleepy and the next thing she became aware of was her sister Sophie leaping on her and yelling:

‘It's my birthday! It's my birthday!' Soon the two sisters were busy pulling paper and ribbon off the present Lucy had carefully wrapped up the night before.

Two nights after her little chat with Thomas Murphy, Lucy found herself on the way to meet Vasilisa. A text from Twinkle told her she was to meet up with Baba Yaga at the base of the Ural Mountains.

‘Don't be scared,' the message read. ‘She looks scary, but will treat you well. She's only evil to the evil, but is good to the good.' Lucy prayed she came into the good category and said so to Speed. The horse whinnied in amusement.

‘No worry, my pet, you're definitely in that group. Now wrap up tight and hold on. The journey's long and will get very, very cold.'

After an uneventful flight across the English Channel, Lucy found herself travelling rapidly through one country after another at speed, towards a land she knew nothing about, except it was huge.

By the time they were near Russia, they'd flown over seas and galloped across lands and crossed different time zones so many times, Lucy was completely at a loss as to where they were. She did notice it was getting colder and colder and, even with her wonderful cloak, began to shiver. Immediately, the inside of the cloak began to grow a warm fur lining.

‘I hope it's artificial fur,' Lucy remarked to Speed, anxious that no animals were killed to keep her warm.

‘If that's what you wished for that's what you've got,' Speed told her.

‘That
is
magic!' Lucy replied, as she snuggled in her toast warm wrap.

The sky was still dark as Lucy and Speed came to the Ural Mountains. They'd only been there a few minutes, when they heard a strange whirring sound. In the distance they saw a brightly lit round object that looked like a UFO, travelling towards them at great speed. As it got nearer, Lucy could see it was a large grey mortar, which rotated rapidly as it moved. Sitting nose to knee inside, her right hand swinging the pestle as if it were a rudder, while her left hand wielded a broom made of birch, was a very ugly witch. She was so thin it seemed she was just a body of bones with a large hooked nose. Lucy knew it had to be Baba Yaga. Immediately, little shivers of fear crept up and down her spine, as she remembered all the tales Thomas Murphy had told her. As the mortar got closer, a strong wind began to blow, the trees groaned, the leaves were whipped up in the air and didn't settle until Baba Yaga brought her unusual carriage to rest.

Still on Speed's back, Lucy held tight to his mane, to give herself courage.

‘Velcome to Russia, Lucy Chase!' Baba Yaga had a low, droning voice. ‘Say your goodbyes and hop on board. Ve must be off. I'm hungry and must get home as soon as possible.'

Recalling Twinkle's reassuring text, Lucy dropped a kiss on Speed's neck and, as he moved alongside the mortar, she slithered off and came to stand next to the skinny witch.

There was no time to try to sit down before Baba Yaga took off. They rose up into the air: up and up, until her mortar was level with the top of the Ural Mountains. It was quite a tight fit inside the mortar, but Lucy managed to find a small space where she could kneel and look out at the amazing Russian scenery; though her stomach still had a severe attack of the collywobbles.

‘So glad you're varmly dressed,' Baba Yaga said. ‘Russia is coldest country in vorld, especially Siberia.'

‘Colder than the North Pole?' Lucy asked politely, grateful for the friendly tone. She began to unwind a little and wondered how the stick-thin witch kept warm, dressed only in a flimsy gown.

‘Oh da!
⁹
In far north of Russia snow never melts.'

‘Is that where we are going?'

‘Nyet!
¹⁰
I live in birch wood, other side of Urals, but weather still very cold. My home very cold in vinter, but so hot in summer – so hot, mosquitoes love it. In Taiga, which means forest, live many different animals and on edge of forests grow vast grassy plains called Steppes.'

‘But how do you keep warm in the winter? You've no coat or cloak to wrap round yourself.' Lucy couldn't believe the old woman could feel warm with so little on.

‘I rule over four elements: fire, air, earth and vater, so I'm comfortable all year round.'

Gradually, the sky began to brighten and as the dark cleared away, Lucy saw a white-haired horseman gallop across the horizon. He was all in white and rode a pure white horse.

‘Hail, Baba Yaga,' he called, as he came level with the mortar.

‘Hail to you, my Bright Dawn,' Baba Yaga replied. As she spoke, Lucy could see the beginning of a beautiful dawn appear on the horizon. ‘He's one of my most faithful servants. He and his brothers, Red Sun and Dark Midnight, help me control all days in Russia.'

‘Do you have any other servants?' Lucy enquired.

‘Da! I've a bodiless pairs of hands; they do lots of jobs for me and a herdsman, he also happens to be a sorcerer: he's called Koshchey, the Deathless.'

Lucy didn't feel she'd like to meet any of them, but remembered in the story she'd read there had been one other; a more normal servant.

‘Is that everyone?' she asked rather tentatively.

‘Nyet! I almost forgot. I've a black-browed maid. She keeps my house clean and cooks for me, but she's not magical, just an ordinary housemaid.'

At the back of her mind Lucy was still worried about the stories that Baba Yaga ate people, though she couldn't really believe it was true.

‘If she did eat people I'm sure she'd be much fatter,' Lucy thought to herself, then without thinking of the consequences, she asked:

‘Is it true you eat bad people?' Immediately she said it, she wished she could put the words back in her mouth.

Baba Yaga gave an amused chuckle.

‘That vould be telling! I must consider my reputation!'

‘I thought you had to tell the truth,' Lucy said rather boldly.

‘I do. But as I'm not telling I can't lie nor tell the truth!' and Baba Yaga laughed again. This time Lucy joined in.

From then on the journey seemed to spin by, as Lucy continued to look down at the ever-changing scenes below her. Eventually, she said:

‘Baba Yaga, it must be difficult dealing with both heroes and villains. In most stories the fairy or the witch only looks out for one or the other.'

‘Da, it's true, I am involved with both. To good people I give advice or help them make their lives easier: as for evil ones, evil deeds usually bring evil ends.'

‘What advice have you for me, Baba Yaga?'

‘Listen to your elders and follow your instincts.'

‘And if I was cruel and unkind?'

‘You could end up on my dinner plate!' Again Baba Yaga laughed heartily, so there was no way Lucy could tell if she was joking or being truthful.

By the time they reached the birch wood, the sun was almost fully out.

‘My Bright Red Sun, he gallops past shortly,' Baba Yaga told Lucy, and within minutes of her speaking a horseman with flaming red hair, dressed all in red and riding a beautiful roan horse rode past, raising his hat to his mistress as he did.

Lucy noticed the mortar was beginning to descend. Below she saw a clearing in the middle of the birch trees and in it was a little house set on chicken legs. As the house saw its mistress return, it began to dance about and then to spin faster and faster in its excitement.

‘Someone is glad to see me back, but my maid and Vasilisa von't be too happy as it'll make both feel rather sick,' Baba Yaga said with a grin. ‘Luckily, it's giving us a silent velcome. Sometimes it makes blood curdling screams, vhich can make your blood run cold' ‘How does it know where it's going? There are so many trees; I'm surprised it doesn't bump into one of them.' ‘My vindows are the house's eyes,' Baba Yaga replied, as she began to put her strange vehicle down.

By the time they were ready to land, the house had calmed down. A fence surrounded the house and, to Lucy's horror, she saw it was made up of human bones and crowned with human skulls.

‘Don't be scared, Lucy,' Baba Yaga told her. ‘Nothing is here to hurt good person like you.'

‘But your gate, Baba Yaga, and your fence; they are made out of bones!'

‘Yes, leg, arm and skull bones from bad, bad people.'

Then, as they landed, Lucy saw the lock. It was made of very sharp teeth, so sharp she doubted they could be human.

‘Now Lucy, I vant you to cover up in your cloak and stay here. To-night Vasilisa escapes my evil clutches.' Baba Yaga gave a deep laugh. ‘She'll use her good sense and get past various barriers: first my cat, (she'd normally scratch anyone trying to leave), secondly my dog, (he usually bites escapees) thirdly my birch tree, (vhich, as a rule, puts people's eyes out) and lastly, my gate, (it's supposed to only open for me.)'

‘How does she manage to get past all those obstacles?' Lucy asked.

‘Part observation, part intuition, part good judgement. Now stay here. You'll find a picnic basket over there. Enjoy it and in no time you vill be joined by Vasilisa.'

‘Thank you, Baba Yaga.'

Baba Yaga put a bony hand on Lucy's shoulder and squeezed it slightly. It was her way of saying goodbye, but the young girl turned and kissed the witch's bony cheek, surprised to find it soft as down.

‘Thank you Lucy! It's a long time since anyone dared do that.' As Lucy followed Baba Yaga out of the mortar, she wrapped her cloak round her and watched as the fragile looking witch walked over to her gate.

‘Come unlock, my bolt so strong, open up, my gate so secure,' Baba Yaga commanded, and with a little wave she walked up the path and into her house.

Lucy moved over to the trees and found the picnic basket full of all her favourite food, which she ate with great enjoyment. The next moment, tired from all the excitement, she was asleep, wrapped tightly in her cloak.

A sudden noise woke Lucy. Passing, so close she could have touched him, was Baba Yaga's Dark Midnight. Black haired, black eyed and dressed all in black he rode a magnificent black horse. Quickly, behind him, came night and Lucy sat quietly in the clearing as, one by one, every skull on the fence lit up and gave an eerie glow to the bandy-legged house.

Soon Lucy was able to make out the figure of Vasilisa, as she opened the door to the house and quietly stepped out. Immediately, the cat leapt forward, but stopped before it reached Vasilisa. Then the dog came snapping out of his kennel, but again let Vasilisa pass. When she reached the birch tree, Lucy could see she took a piece of ribbon out of her apron pocket and wrapped it round the tree.

Finally, Vasilisa reached the gate and softly dropped some oil on its dry hinges. The gate opened for her with ease, grateful not to feel so stiff and achy.

Vasilisa was now in the black of the forest, the lights of the fence behind her. Lucy didn't want to scare her, so she undid her cloak and wandered forward, as if she had been lost in the woods.

‘Oh, I'm so glad to have found someone,' she said as she approached the startled Vasilisa. ‘I'm dreadfully lost. I've been wandering for ages and it's so dark now, I've been really scared.'

‘Perhaps we can look for the path together,' said Vasilisa with a smile.

‘The trouble is it's so dark. You can't see your hand in front of your face and I'm worried there are wild animals about.'

‘Let's take one of Baba Yaga's skull lights,' the Russian girl replied. ‘My step-mother sent me for a light, so a light she shall have.' With that Vasilisa went up to the fence and removed one of the glowing skulls and put it on the end of a stout stick. Armed with this the two girls set off into the birch forest.

The forest did not seem quite so scary, now that they had a light, though it was still a frightening place. Instinctively, the two girls drew closer and linked arms, which gave each of them comfort. The skull light threw an umbrella shape over and around them, which enabled them to see a few steps in front. The path was quite faint in places and without this light they both knew they would have wandered off the path into the deep, dark places. They hadn't gone too far, when they became aware they weren't alone. From the black depths they could see eyes that caught the reflection of the light and glowed back at them. Some were close to the ground and looked harmless, some were at the same height as themselves, and, while many looked friendly, there were others that looked sly and ferocious. Shortly, after the eyes appeared, the noises began. Wolves howling are a sound that makes the bravest heart quake and neither Vasilisa nor Lucy felt very brave.

‘Must be quite a large pack of wolves out there,' Lucy said, as she tightened her grip on Vasilisa.

‘Animals won't come near Baba Yaga's light,' Vasilisa told Lucy, who, remembering her time spent in the Forest of the Furies, began to chatter away non-stop to cover up the tendrils of fear that, once again, began to invade her spine.

‘I believe, besides wolves there are bears in this forest,' she chattered on. ‘Let's hope bears don't like fire either. At least,' Lucy added, ‘we know who our enemies are.' But, as the wolves continued to howl, that didn't give her much comfort.

After a while, in order to draw breath, Lucy told Vasilisa she'd heard something of the reputation of Baba Yaga and asked how she'd got past the cat, dog, tree and gate.

‘My plan began with the black-browed maid, who looks after Baba Yaga. I gave her a kerchief I'd made and asked her to get Baba Yaga to sleep, which she kindly did. She prepared a huge meal for her, enough for ten men. To drink she gave her kvass, mead, beer and vino and fed her a pot of borscht, half a cow, two large pies, a roasted sow, twenty chickens and forty geese. Baba Yaga was soon fast asleep and snoring soundly.'

Lucy wasn't so sure. She was certain very little escaped BabaYaga, but she was astounded at the amount that skinny body could eat. She was also glad the menu had not included any people.

‘As I left I gave her cat a pie and the dog some bread. Neither ever get any titbits from Baba Yaga, so were happy to let me go.'