After last week’s more historical post about Koliada, this Slavic Saturday we’re returning to Slavic folklore and fairy tales with “Carried Away by the Wind.” I’ll tell a summarized version of the story and then talk about how the themes relate to Slavic folklore at large.
(June 2021 Updated) Note: If you enjoy Slavic mythology, check out A Dagger in the Winds, the first book in my Slavic fantasy series called The Frostmarked Chronicles. You can also join my monthly newsletter for updates and free novellas (such as the prequel, The Rider in the Night) set in the world of the series.
As a bit of background, “Carried Away by the Wind” is a story from John Theophilus Naaké’s Slavonic Fairy Tales. According to his preface, this version of the story was transcribed in Polish by K. W. Wojcicki (Kazimierz Władysław Wójcicki), and if you’re looking for the full story (which I read in the video below) as well as other easy to read folklore, check out FairyTalez.
Little information is given to us at the start of this story. Instead, the tale dives right into the problem:
A certain magician being angry with a young peasant, came to the hut where he lived and stuck a new and sharp knife under the threshold, repeating an incantation as he did so, accompanied by this wish: “May this peasant be seized and carried away by the wind into the air, there to remain for seven whole years.”
We don’t know why the magician is upset with this unnamed peasant, but whatever it was, seven years trapped in the air is quite the punishment. Though the peasant resists the sorcery, he falls prey to it regardless, his fingers slipping as he tried to grab hold of anything to anchor him down.
Borne, as if on the wings of the wind, among the clouds, he flew like a wild pigeon. The sun began already to disappear in the west, and the hungry peasant could see the smoke ascending from the cottages in his village, where supper was cooking. At one time he could almost touch the chimney pots with his feet, and he screamed aloud for help. But he screamed and wept in vain; no one heard his cries, or saw his bitter tears.
For three months the peasant flew over the world. He grew weak from lack of food and water. Neither his betrothed, who he could see from the sky much of the time, nor anyone else in his village realized he was in the air. Then, the winds took him back to his house, where the magician smugly looked up at him and shouted:
“Ah, I have not done with you yet; you shall be thus carried by the wind over your own village for seven long years. You shall suffer constantly, and wish you were dead; but you shall not be able to die.”
The peasant pleaded to the magician, asking him to relent. His muscles and flesh were deflated, and he was little more than bones floating in the air. He knelt on the air and promised to give the magician whatever he asked for in return for the torture to end.
“Will you give me your sweetheart?” demanded the magician. “I want her for my wife. If you will promise to give her to me, I will let you come down once more to the earth.”
The peasant was silent for a moment. Thought he to himself: “When I am once more on the ground. I’ll see what can be done.”
So, the peasant promised the magician he could have his betrothed. When the peasant’s feet touched the ground again, he felt overwhelming joy just to be standing, but his sorrow returned as he rushed to his betrothed’s house. There, he wept as he told her father what had happened.
The father saw how frail the peasant had become and offered to help. He left with his coin and went to a witch, and upon his return, he was smiling as he told the peasant:
“Go to-morrow, before daylight, to the witch, and all will be right.”
The peasant, weary as he was, went to bed, and soon fell fast asleep. He got up, however, before daylight, and went to the witch. He found her crouching before a fire burning herbs. The witch told him to stand quietly by. The morning was calm and beautiful, but suddenly a strong wind arose, and made the hut tremble. Then the witch took the peasant into the yard, and told him to look up. He raised his eyes and saw the wicked magician, with nothing on but his night-shirt, whirling round and round in the air.
“There is your enemy,” said the witch; “he will hurt you no more. If you wish him to see your wedding, do as I will tell you. For the rest, he will suffer the same punishment as he had designed for you.”
The peasant then married his beloved, and the magician’s foot was nailed to their window, forcing him to watch their happiness. He soon escaped, but it mattered not. The witch’s curse remained and…
Some people said they saw him flying through the air over a large lake some miles off; before and behind him were large flocks of crows, which, by their croaking, told of his continued flight through space.
That is how our story ends this week. It is a happier one, all things considered, and one that has similarities with other themes that appear throughout Slavic folklore. By no means do I want to extrapolate a few tales to claim they represent everything, but it’s fun to look at these connections.
The first of those commonalities is that of magicians, wizard, and witches. Slavic folklore is full of those capable of magic, whether for good or ill. In the story of “Koschei the Deathless,” three wizards aid Ivan in his mission to rescue his wife, though the witch Baba Jaga/Baba Yaga tries to trick him. Magic of the winds is also prevalent, both with Koschei and with tales of the Płanetnik/Zduhać, protectors of the sky (who could also be demons). In “Carried Away by the Wind,” we find wind sorcery used to punish, as the winds were powerful in Slavic mythology (like the god who controls them, Strzybóg/Stribog). Between magician and witch, like in many Slavic folktales, it was who wielded it that mattered, and it was the witch here who ended the magician’s torture – forcing him to endure his own wrath.
How that magic is carried out is also interesting: a knife. Like this tale and stories of sorcerers changing into a Wilkołak/Vukodlak, knives appear often as tools for the carrying out of sorcery. I’m not sure exactly why that is, but it’s a commonality that is fascinating to me. Also relevant is the knife’s location under the threshold, as tales of things placed under thresholds to protect against demons like Wodnik/Vodyanoy appeared as well. These items and locations had power in folk tales, and that power could protect or harm.
Away from magic, it was cleverness as well as good-will that saved the peasant in this story – though, not necessarily his own. His honesty with the father placed the decision to save him in the hands of his future father-in-law, and in the end, it was the father’s cleverness and willingness to go to a witch that made the happy ending. Similarly, in the story of “The Bear in the Forest Hut,” it was the girl’s kindness in helping the mouse that saved her. The stories aren’t much the same, but like many folktales, earning friends who can help tends to make the result better for you.
That’s all for this week’s Slavic Saturday. Be sure to keep a lookout for more posts next week, and if you haven’t seen the full series of posts, be sure to check them out.
*As always just a quick disclaimer. Slavic mythology is broad and not written in many if any primary sources, so there’s a variety of interpretations. The interpretations I’m using here are from the sources I’ve found to be reliable and as well as some creative freedom for my book series.