Posted by Archer2 on June 21, 2001 at 21:20:40:
"Oh wandering minstrel, tell us another tale, " the young soldier
said as he took a sip from the flask of vodka and passed it on. "A
soldier's life is hard and terrible, but a story to pass on to one's comrades
helps time to pass."
"I was a soldier once," the vagabond replied, "so let me tell you an
old tale I first heard from the lips of a comrade who fell the next day
in battle. He called it the Ballad of Grigor Borisievich. Have
you heard of it?"
The young soldier was astonished. "Yes, I have, but when I ask
the men who mention the name of Grigor Borisievich to tell the tale, they
simply smile sadly and say nothing."
"Well, my friends," the minstrel said as looked carefully at each of
the men's faces, "tonight you will get no sad smiles as excuses.
Have another sip of vodka and open your ears. Yes! For tonight
you will hear of the exploits of Grigor Borisievich!"
The minstrel himself took a good swig from the flask, and after a severe
coughing fit, he began to tell the tale...
"Honey, I'm home!" he announced. "And I've brought a few guests,"
he added.
"Well, it's about time you got back!" she sniffed. "You've been
away for a week and things have been absolutely dreadful around here.
First, my toilet is stopped up so I'm forced to do you-know-what like the
peasants do..."
The Tsar braced himself. With a bit of luck, this would be the
worst of it. "Well, honey bunch, I'm back, and I've brought all the
knights with me." Turning to his general, the renowned Ilya Muromitz,
the Tsar commanded, "O Mighty Knight of Knights, fix the Tsarina's toilet!"
Ilya turned to a couple of his men and gave a signal. The men
blanched, but, saying nothing, marched to the Tsarina's restroom to fix
the toilet.
The Tsar turned to his wife. From her unimpressed look, he could
tell something else was bothering her. Of course he and his men were
hungry, but there'd be no dinner until he got to the bottom of this.
"So, is there anything else, honey bunch?"
"Yes. There's the matter of your mutt marking territory in my
flower bed."
Now the great knight Ilya Muromitz had a squire named Grigor Borisievich.
Grisha was a good man and a good fighter. Unfortunately, Grisha also
had a mouth which was not known for subtlety. And Grisha's poor diplomatic
skills were about to be demonstrated in his next few words when he addressed
the Tsarina, saying, "But your Ladyship, I thought the dog was a thoroughbred
Scottish Terrier and that furthermore he was your dog." Ignoring
both the Tsarina's glare and the warning glances of Ilya and the Tsar,
he continued, "And doesn't the royal flower bed belong to the Tsar."
"Silence, Grisha!" Ilya commanded his tactless associate.
"Just go and clean up the flower bed."
Ilya hoped the Tsarina would be satisfied, but the Tsar knew better.
The worst was yet to come.
"Is there anything else that troubles you, honey bunch?"
"We can discuss that after dinner!" she replied.
Ilya and his hungry men relaxed almost as if they were saying "Finally!
Food!" But the Tsar knew his wife. This was bad! Very
bad! He also pitied the squire Grisha. He would definitely
pay dearly for his lack of discretion.
Then Ilya considered the bread. Now there's a meal. And
you could kill a man by bashing his head in with a loaf of peasant bread.
But Ilya and the other men did their best to hide the fact that they
liked the bread. The Tsarina's demeanor made it obvious that
there would be hell to pay after dinner. Even the typically insensitive
Grigor Borisievich sensed the Tsarina's displeasure -- and he had a feeling
that he would have an unwelcome role in easing that displeasure.
The Tsarina didn't eat. She merely sat there, looking as pained
as she could possibly look. The Tsar and his men tried to finish
their soup quickly so the Tsarina could talk about what troubled her.
But her response was to order the servants to bring second helpings of
soup. "Eat! Eat!" she said, and then added, "It's obvious that
your hunger is more important to you than my trivial troubles." Of
course it was quite true, and justifiably so, but they all felt guilty
anyway.
After three helpings of soup, the Tsar dismissed the servants before
the Tsarina could order them to bring in more soup. "I slave in the
kitchen making soup," the Tsarina said, (and a lie it was for she never
even set foot in the kitchen), and added, "and you don't even like
the soup." (Actually, the Tsar and Grisha both liked the soup, but
the other knights had to take care not to nod their heads to acknowledge
their agreement with the Tsarina's words.)
"Tell me, honey bunch," the Tsar asked, "what is it that troubles you?"
She pulled out a scroll. "While you were out having all that fun,
I was home, all alone and I got this message from the wife of the Sultan
of Turkey."
The Tsar opened the scroll. He and Ilya read the message:
The Tsarina is a whiny bitch! (signed) Sultana
"Outrage!" Ilya echoed, also trying to contain himself.
Grigor Borisievich and a couple of other knights read the scroll.
Suppressing laughter, the two knights said in unison, "An absolute scandal.
The Sultana should hang!"
Of course candor at a time like this was definitely a no-no. Before
he could be stopped, Grisha managed to say, "Quite true!" The Tsarina
glared at Grisha.
Ilya jumped in very quickly. "What Grisha means to say is that
he agrees that it is an outrage."
The sly Tsarina seized the opportunity. "Ah, my good Knight!
my dear Grisha!" she said. Grisha trembled. "You agree that
this message is an outrage?"
"Yes, your Ladyship," he replied very carefully.
"Then tomorrow, Grisha, you will set forth for Turkey and you will avenge
me by killing the Sultan's favorite Pasha, kicking the Sultana, and spitting
in the Sultan's face."
Of course a company of men numbering thrice ten travelling from Russia
to Turkey does not go unnoticed by the spies of the Sultan, so the men
were under close watch as they came to the great city of Istanbul, capital
of Turkey. Being clever warriors, they of course knew they were under
watch.
Grisha addressed his men. "Tonight I will perform my tasks.
If I am caught, as the Sultan is just, I will surely hang."
That night, Grisha crept into the Sultan's palace without attracting
the attention of the guards. There were extra guards on duty, but
most were inexperienced. So getting past them was rather easy for
one of Grisha's skill. But Grisha's nervousness did cause him
to forget some of the details of the task at hand.
Grisha came to a hallway in the center of the palace leading to four
rooms. The first room had a sign over the door saying "Sultana".
Unfortunately there was a guard at the door. Fortunately Grisha was
prepared. He filled a small glass from his vodka flask and sent it
sliding on the smooth floor towards the guard.
"Allah be praised," said the guard, 'for I am thirsty!" He quickly
drank the vodka -- too quickly, in fact. Unable to breathe, he turned
blue and passed out.
Grisha entered the Sultana's room. She lay asleep on a huge bed
in the middle of the room. She was completely naked, and Grisha admired
her great beauty. He felt a touch of sympathy for her, but echoing
the words of an unknown sage, he thought, a man's got to do what a man's
got to do.
He took the silk cord from the silk robe and approached the sleeping
beauty. Item one, he thought. Kill the Sultana. Some
guys get all the luck, he thought as he let his pants fall.
He quickly wrapped the silk cord around her neck, and pulling it taut so
that she couldn't scream, he then mounted the Sultana. Having
been taken by complete surprise, she yielded to him. And when he
came, she went.
The guard was still unconscious when he reentered the hallway.
He looked up at the second door. The sign said, "The Sultan's Three
Daughters", so Grisha went to the third door. The sign said. "Sultan".
Grisha entered. The sultan had his back to the door and was reading.
Item two, Grisha thought. Kick the Sultan.
Grisha took a moment to gather all his thoughts and his memories of
his childhood hero Bruce Lee. Grisha forced a high-pitched scream
from his mouth and kicked with all his might. The kick struck the
sultan's back and sent him flying into the wall with a loud crash.
He dropped to the floor, unconscious, accompanied by the usual dull thud.
Grisha took a quick sip from his flask and left the room. In the
hallway he met the Pasha who had been aroused by the loud noises in the
Sultan's room. Item three, spit on the Pasha. Grisha spit in
the Pasha's face. Blinded by the vodka-laced spit, the Pasha ran
screaming back into his room.
As he passed the second door, Grisha heard some giggling. At this
point he looked down and realized he had forgotten to put his pants back
on. But the guard was starting to regain consciousness,
so Grisha had no time to retrieve his pants.
For bribing the Sultan's guard -- one lash (sentence
suspended on first offense)
For killing the Sultana -- ten lashes
For raping the Sultana -- twenty lashes
For spitting in the Pasha's face -- thirty lashes
For littering (leaving his pants on public property) -- forty lashes
For blinding the Pasha -- pluck out one eyeball
For kicking the Sultan -- death
"One hundred lashes, a plucked eyeball and death to the villain!" said
another.
"But we have a problem," said the Sultan. "The Pasha was blinded
and cannot be a witness, and I never saw the intruder. And my wife..."
The guard spoke up. "A thousand pardons, my Lord, for having failed
you, but I was rising from my stupor as the intruder left. He wore
the coat of the Russian visitors..."
"And he left some Russian pants," sneered the cynical court jester.
"Yes, I know..." started the Sultan.
"Death to the Russians!" said the guard. Apparently an aftereffect
of the powerful vodka.
The Sultan held up his hand. "But I am a just Sultan. I
will not hang twenty-nine innocent men to hang one sultan-kicker."
"What about the eyeballs?" the Pasha asked, hoping for at least some
vengeance.
"Sorry, and that goes for the misdemeanors as well. I won't put
innocents to the lash."
Now the Sultan had three daughters, and all were present. The
eldest, a beautiful young woman named Sheherizade, approached her father.
"Father, may I speak."
Now the Sultan did not trust any of his daughters, for they were cruel
and power-hungry. But with his wife dead, there was no possibility
of a male heir for the Sultan would not remarry. "Speak," the Sultan
commanded.
"The intruder passed our room as he left, and I got a very good look,"
she said.
"You saw his face?" the Sultan asked excitedly.
"Well, no," she answered. "He was masked," she explained.
The Sultan said sadly, "The it is no use..."
"But, Father, he wasn't wearing any pants, and I'd recognize -- well
you know what," she said coyly.
The Sultan thought a moment. "Unfortunately strip searches are
Unconstitutional. I'm sorry, but we'll just have to let him go."
The eldest daughter spoke again. "But, Father, I have a plan.
Of course I would expect a reward for my efforts."
"A reward?" the Sultan asked, somewhat incredulous.
But Sheherizade was determined. "Yes, the Sultanate."
"Very well," said the Sultan, "but if you fail, you will be banished.
The men invited the women in and shared their vodka. Of course
lots of other things happened, but I know you'd rather not hear all those
details.
The next morning, Sheherizade and the harem women returned to the Sultan's
court. As soon as they left, Grigor Borisievich addressed his men.
"Last night was a ruse, I am sure of it. Perhaps one of these women
saw me in the Sultan's palace and left a mark on me to identify me."
And it was true for Grisha's men found a small indelible gold mark on his
left thigh.
On news from his eldest daughter, the Sultan summoned the Russians to
his court.
Sheherizade addressed the court. "I marked the intruder whose
manhood I saw. Come forth," she pointed to Grisha. "Show us
your left thigh."
He uncovered his left thigh to expose the gold mark. "This is
the one who raped and killed my mother, who littered the palace, who spat
at the Pasha, and, worst of all, kicked my father."
"But your Lordship," Grisha addressed the Sultan, "this is a birthmark
common to all Russians. Men, please show the Sultan."
Sheherizade was shocked to see twenty-nine more men with indelible gold
marks on their left thighs.
The Russians were dismissed.
The Sultan spoke to the court. "Sheherizade has failed.
Worse yet she is no longer a virgin. And the twenty-nine women from
my harem are spoilt. I sentence these whores to die a whore's death.
Strip them naked and hang them in the palace marketplace for all to see!"
And the Russian company had lingered in the marketplace just long enough
that they didn't miss the hanging.
"Rather a pity, I think," said a grinning Ivan Mikhailovich to Mikhail
Ivanovich.
"Yes," Mikhail replied less than gravely. "Perhaps they'll still
be hanging around tonight..."
Ivan grinned. "Yes, cosmopolitan Istanbul has such an exciting
nightlife. So much nicer than provincial Minsk."
The Sultan warned her that if she failed, she and the women whose help
she enlisted would die a whore's death.
"But if I succeed," she said greedily, "the Sultanate will be mine!"
Now given the example of the fate that had befallen the women who helped
Sheherizade, Sulima only managed to convince thrice nine women of the harem
to help her in her investigation. But fortunately two of the Russians
were occupied elsewhere in Istanbul.
The twenty-eight remaining Russian men were pleased to have the company
of Sulima's company whom they invited for vodka. And after the vodka
-- well, you don't want to hear about that, so I'll spare you the details.
Now after the women left, Grigor Borisievich was suspicious. And
justly so, for after looking for a mark, a golden strand of hair was found
in the hair on his head.
A few minutes later, the men were arrested, handcuffed, and taken to
the Sultan's court.
Sulima addressed the court. "The man you seek has a strand of
my blond hair in his head." But thirty of the Sultan's men inspected
the heads of the thirty Russians and found no strands of Sulima's
hair.
"With my humble pardon," Grisha said after he had been uncuffed,.
Walking over to the unfortunate Pasha, he plucked a strand of blond hair
from his head. "Perhaps this be the strand of hair that thou dost
seek," he said respectfully.
The Sultan gave Sulima a very angry look. But she did not return
his glance for she had already resigned herself to her doom.
The Russians were dismissed.
The Sultan spoke to the court. "Sulima too has failed. And
she and twenty-seven more women from my harem are spoilt. As whores,
they must die a whore's death. Strip them naked and hang them in
the palace marketplace for all to see!"
Now on the night of the crimes, Natasha had seen what her sisters had
seen, and her plan was pretty much the same as her sisters' plans.
And (like her sisters), she was quite sure of herself.
There were exactly twenty-nine women left in the Sultan's harem, and
Natasha insisted they all be available to help. The Sultan reluctantly
agreed even though, if they failed, they would die that most horrible of
deaths reserved for whores.
Now Natasha had known of Mikhail and Ivan's forbidden behavior so she
picked two women she trusted to meet them in the marketplace. After
carefully describing the intruder's manhood, she and the remaining twenty-seven
harem women set out for the quarters of the Russians.
They were greeted and wined and dined. And they had no trouble
getting the men out of their clothes and into bed. And they
took the men's -- oh sorry. I started to get carried away.
You don't want to hear these details.
The next morning, after the women had left, Grigor had the men check
carefully for marks. They found none. And the Sultan's men
summoned them to the court for a third time.
"Gentlemen," Natasha addressed Grigor and his men, "please remove your
right boots and show us the soles of your right feet." Grigor knew
the jig was up for he had been standing on his feet when the men looked
for marks. And sure enough, there was an indelible gold mark on the
pad just below Grigor's big right toe.
"Arrest that man," the Sultan ordered.
"Excuse me, Father, but I believe the Sultanate is mine now," Natasha
ordered.
"Well yes..."
"Then I give the orders," she said.
"Well..."
She turned to Grigor Borisievich and said, "As Sultana, I have need
for a harem. In exchange for your life, Grigor Borisievich, will
you and your men be my harem slaves, henceforth and forever faithful to
me alone? Except Mikhail Ivanovich and Ivan Mikhailovich -- I have
other uses for their talents..."
"But one woman and men numbering twice nine plus one?" Grisha objected.
"I was never good with multiplication by threes, but that seems about
right to me. Or do you doubt my prowess?" Natasha asked sternly.
Grisha and his men knew the danger in doubting the Sultana's prowess,
so they agreed to be harem slaves to Natasha in exchange for her sparing
his life.
Natasha turned to her father. "Even though you mistrust me, you
have been good to me, Father, and I will return your kindness. You
too shall continue to have a harem as befits you. "
The harem women returned to the former Sultan, elated. At this
point Natasha cleared her throat. Speaking quite loudly, she
said, "Didn't anyone hear the part about 'as befits'? I
can't let my father sleep with women who sleep around." To the guards,
she ordered, "You know what to do with these women. It's not personal
-- they've been a big help, but laws are laws." Winking at Mikhail,
she added, "Of course, Misha and Ivan will supervise the execution
of these orders."
She turned to the Pasha, whose sight was now almost back to normal.
"Get my daddy about 100 virgins for his harem." Then she smiled and
added, "and while you're at it, why don't you get yourself two or three.
You've certainly earned it"
"Honey, I'm home!" he announced. "And I've brought a few guests,"
he added.
"Well, it's about time you got back!" she sniffed. "You've been
away for a week and things have been absolutely dreadful around here.
First, my toilet is stopped up so I'm forced to do you-know-what like the
peasants do..."
The Tsar turned to Ilya Muromitz and asked him, "Tell me, my good knight,
how many young and pretty unmarried women are there in the lands that I
rule."
Ilya answered, "Well, your Lordship, I would reckon there are tens,
perhaps hundreds of thousands."
"Tell me, my friend," the Tsar continued, making sure to raise his voice
so that the Tsarina could hear. "Do you think that some of these
women would be grateful if a certain Tsar were to take them as a bride."
His loyal general, also raising his voice, replied, "Why some of them
most certainly. Of course divorce is out of the question, but, speaking
hypothetically of course, this Tsar could chop off the Tsarina's head and
pardon himself. I doubt that the people would be terribly distressed,
because I hear that this hypothetical Tsarina isn't much loved by the common
people."
The Tsarina took the hint. "Speaking hypothetically, of course,"
she said.
"Oh absolutely hypothetically, of course," replied Ilya.
"Of course," echoed the Tsar enjoying the sight of his wife quaking
in her boots.
"Well, hypothetically, if she were to learn how to unstop her toilet
and stop complaining so much, perhaps the people would like her better
and her husband might be less inclined to yearn for a younger more complacent
wife."
"Hypothetically, yes," Ilya said. "And of course it would help
if she didn't serve miso soup --"
"But," said the Tsar, "I like miso soup!"
"Uh, if she stopped serving it when the men were back from a hunt?"
"Oh yes, that would certainly help!" the Tsar said. "And of course,
hypothetically speaking, there are certain matters of bedroom demeanor..."
The Tsarina turned beet red with embarrassment. "Would it be possible
for your Lordship to assign a knight to teach her Ladyship how to fix a
toilet? And we could continue this other topic tonight, after dinner...
Hypothetically speaking, of course."
"Absolutely. Of course!" replied the Tsar.
Still nervous, she gave instructions to Ilya Muromitz as well:
"Oh, and Ilya, could you have the servants prepare the fowl. There
was a misunderstanding about some miso soup -- just tell them that they
can use it for basting..."
"Ah my Ladyship, your wish is my command," he said taking care not to
celebrate this victory too much. "And I'll see to it that a few bowls
are set aside for his Lordship and her Ladyship."
"None for me, thank you. I really do detest miso soup."
Ilya laughed loudly as he went into the kitchen to carry out the Tsarina's
orders.