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The Crimson Fairy Book

by Andrew Lang · English · Gutenberg #2435 · 526,936 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Crimson Fairy Book

Author: Andrew Lang


        
Release date: December 1, 2000 [eBook #2435]
                Most recently updated: March 4, 2023

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2435

Credits: J.C. Byers and David Widger


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRIMSON FAIRY BOOK ***




THE CRIMSON FAIRY BOOK

By Various

Edited by Andrew Lang




Preface


Each Fairy Book demands a preface from the Editor, and these
introductions are inevitably both monotonous and unavailing. A sense of
literary honesty compels the Editor to keep repeating that he is the
Editor, and not the author of the Fairy Tales, just as a distinguished
man of science is only the Editor, not the Author of Nature. Like
nature, popular tales are too vast to be the creation of a single
modern mind. The Editor’s business is to hunt for collections of these
stories told by peasant or savage grandmothers in many climes, from New
Caledonia to Zululand; from the frozen snows of the Polar regions to
Greece, or Spain, or Italy, or far Lochaber. When the tales are found
they are adapted to the needs of British children by various hands, the
Editor doing little beyond guarding the interests of propriety, and
toning down to mild reproofs the tortures inflicted on wicked
stepmothers, and other naughty characters.

These explanations have frequently been offered already; but, as far as
ladies and children are concerned, to no purpose. They still ask the
Editor how he can invent so many stories—more than Shakespeare, Dumas,
and Charles Dickens could have invented in a century. And the Editor
still avers, in Prefaces, that he did not invent one of the stories;
that nobody knows, as a rule, who invented them, or where, or when. It
is only plain that, perhaps a hundred thousand years ago, some savage
grandmother told a tale to a savage granddaughter; that the
granddaughter told it in her turn; that various tellers made changes to
suit their taste, adding or omitting features and incidents; that, as
the world grew civilised, other alterations were made, and that, at
last, Homer composed the “Odyssey,” and somebody else composed the
Story of Jason and the Fleece of Gold, and the enchantress Medea, out
of a set of wandering popular tales, which are still told among
Samoyeds and Samoans, Hindoos and Japanese.

All this has been known to the wise and learned for centuries, and
especially since the brothers Grimm wrote in the early years of the
Nineteenth Century. But children remain unaware of the facts, and so do
their dear mothers; whence the Editor infers that they do not read his
prefaces, and are not members of the Folk Lore Society, or students of
Herr Kohler and M. Cosquin, and M. Henri Guidoz and Professor Child,
and Mr. Max Muller. Though these explanations are not attended to by
the Editor’s customers, he makes them once more, for the relief of his
conscience. Many tales in this book are translated, or adapted, from
those told by mothers and nurses in Hungary; others are familiar to
Russian nurseries; the Servians are responsible for some; a rather
peculiarly fanciful set of stories are adapted from the Roumanians;
others are from the Baltic shores; others from sunny Sicily; a few are
from Finland, and Iceland, and Japan, and Tunis, and Portugal. No doubt
many children will like to look out these places on the map, and study
their mountains, rivers, soil, products, and fiscal policies, in the
geography books. The peoples who tell the stories differ in colour;
language, religion, and almost everything else; but they all love a
nursery tale. The stories have mainly been adapted or translated by
Mrs. Lang, a few by Miss Lang and Miss Blackley.




CONTENTS

 Preface
 Lovely Ilonka
 Lucky Luck
 The Hairy Man
 To Your Good Health!
 The Story of the Seven Simons
 The Language of Beasts
 The Boy Who Could Keep A Secret
 The Prince And The Dragon
 Little Wildrose
 Tiidu The Piper
 Paperarelloo
 The Gifts Of The Magician
 The Strong Prince
 The Treasure Seeker
 The Cottager And His Cat
 The Prince Who Would Seek Immortality
 The Stone-Cutter
 The Gold-Bearded Man
 Tritill, Litill, And The Birds
 The Three Robes
 The Six Hungry Beasts
 How The Beggar Boy Turned Into Count Piro
 The Rogue And The Herdsman
 Eisenkopf
 The Death Of Abu Nowas And Of His Wife
 Motiratika
 Niels And The Giants
 Shepherd Paul
 How The Wicked Tanuki Was Punished
 The Crab And The Monkey
 The Horse Gullfaxi And The Sword Gunnfoder
 The Story Of The Sham Prince, Or The Ambitious Tailor
 The Colony Of Cats
 How To Find Out A True Friend
 Clever Maria
 The Magic Kettle




Lovely Ilonka


There was once a king’s son who told his father that he wished to
marry.

“No, no!” said the king; “you must not be in such a hurry. Wait till
you have done some great deed. My father did not let me marry till I
had won the golden sword you see me wear.”

The prince was much disappointed, but he never dreamed of disobeying
his father, and he began to think with all his might what he could do.
It was no use staying at home, so one day he wandered out into the
world to try his luck, and as he walked along he came to a little hut
in which he found an old woman crouching over the fire.

“Good evening, mother. I see you have lived long in this world; do you
know anything about the three bulrushes?”

“Yes, indeed, I’ve lived long and been much about in the world, but I
have never seen or heard anything of what you ask. Still, if you will
wait till to-morrow I may be able to tell you something.”

Well, he waited till the morning, and quite early the old woman
appeared and took out a little pipe and blew in it, and in a moment all
the crows in the world were flying about her. Not one was missing. Then
she asked if they knew anything about the three bulrushes, but not one
of them did.

The prince went on his way, and a little further on he found another
hut in which lived an old man. On being questioned the old man said he
knew nothing, but begged the prince to stay overnight, and the next
morning the old man called all the ravens together, but they too had
nothing to tell.

The prince bade him farewell and set out. He wandered so far that he
crossed seven kingdoms, and at last, one evening, he came to a little
house in which was an old woman.

“Good evening, dear mother,” said he politely.

“Good evening to you, my dear son,” answered the old woman. “It is
lucky for you that you spoke to me or you would have met with a
horrible death. But may I ask where are you going?”

“I am seeking the three bulrushes. Do you know anything about them?”

“I don’t know anything myself, but wait till to-morrow. Perhaps I can
tell you then.” So the next morning she blew on her pipe, and lo! and
behold every magpie in the world flew up. That is to say, all the
magpies except one who had broken a leg and a wing. The old woman sent
after it at once, and when she questioned the magpies the crippled one
was the only one who knew where the three bulrushes were.

Then the prince started off with the lame magpie. They went on and on
till they reached a great stone wall, many, many feet high.

“Now, prince,” said the magpie, “the three bulrushes are behind that
wall.”

The prince wasted no time. He set his horse at the wall and leaped over
it. Then he looked about for the three bulrushes, pulled them up and
set off with them on his way home. As he rode along one of the
bulrushes happened to knock against something. It split open and, only
think! out sprang a lovely girl, who said: “My heart’s love, you are
mine and I am yours; do give me a glass of water.”

But how could the prince give it her when there was no water at hand?
So the lovely maiden flew away. He split the second bulrush as an
experiment and just the same thing happened.

How careful he was of the third bulrush! He waited till he came to a
well, and there he split it open, and out sprang a maiden seven times
lovelier than either of the others, and she too said: “My heart’s love,
I am yours and you are mine; do give me a glass of water.”

This time the water was ready and the girl did not fly away, but she
and the prince promised to love each other always. Then they set out
for home.

They soon reached the prince’s country, and as he wished to bring his
promised bride back in a fine coach he went on to the town to fetch
one. In the field where the well was, the king’s swineherds and
cowherds were feeding their droves, and the prince left Ilonka (for
that was her name) in their care.

Unluckily the chief swineherd had an ugly old daughter, and whilst the
prince was away he dressed her up in fine clothes, and threw Ilonka
into the well.

The prince returned before long, bringing with him his father and
mother and a great train of courtiers to escort Ilonka home. But how
they all stared when they saw the swineherd’s ugly daughter! However,
there was nothing for it but to take her home; and, two days later, the
prince married her, and his father gave up the crown to him.

But he had no peace! He knew very well he had been cheated, though he
could not think how. Once he desired to have some water brought him
from the well into which Ilonka had been thrown. The coachman went for
it and, in the bucket he pulled up, a pretty little duck was swimming.
He looked wonderingly at it, and all of a sudden it disappeared and he
found a dirty looking girl standing near him. The girl returned with
him and managed to get a place as housemaid in the palace.

Of course she was very busy all day long, but whenever she had a little
spare time she sat down to spin. Her distaff turned of itself and her
spindle span by itself and the flax wound itself off; and however much
she might use there was always plenty left.

When the queen—or, rather, the swineherd’s daughter—heard of this, she
very much wished to have the distaff, but the girl flatly refused to
give it to her. However, at last she consented on condition that she
might sleep one night in the king’s room. The queen was very angry, and
scolded her well; but as she longed to have the distaff she consented,
though she gave the king a sleeping draught at supper.

Then the girl went to the king’s room looking seven times lovelier than
ever. She bent over the sleeper and said: “My heart’s love, I am yours
and you are mine. Speak to me but once; I am your Ilonka.” But the king
was so sound asleep he neither heard nor spoke, and Ilonka left the
room, sadly thinking he was ashamed to own her.

Soon after the queen again sent to say that she wanted to buy the
spindle. The girl agreed to let her have it on the same conditions as
before; but this time, also, the queen took care to give the king a
sleeping draught. And once more Ilonka went to the king’s room and
spoke to him; whisper as sweetly as she might she could get no answer.

Now some of the king’s servants had taken note of the matter, and
warned their master not to eat and drink anything that the queen
offered him, as for two nights running she had given him a sleeping
draught. The queen had no idea that her doings had been discovered; and
when, a few days later, she wanted the flax, and had to pay the same
price for it, she felt no fears at all.

At supper that night the queen offered the king all sorts of nice
things to eat and drink, but he declared he was not hungry, and went
early to bed.

The queen repented bitterly her promise to the girl, but it was too
late to recall it; for Ilonka had already entered the king’s room,
where he lay anxiously waiting for something, he knew not what. All of
a sudden he saw a lovely maiden who bent over him and said: “My dearest
love, I am yours and you are mine. Speak to me, for I am your Ilonka.”

At these words the king’s heart bounded within him. He sprang up and
embraced and kissed her, and she told him all her adventures since the
moment he had left her. And when he heard all that Ilonka had suffered,
and how he had been deceived, he vowed he would be revenged; so he gave
orders that the swineherd, his wife and daughter should all be hanged;
and so they were.

The next day the king was married, with great rejoicings, to the fair
Ilonka; and if they are not yet dead—why, they are still living.

[From Ungarische Mährchen.]




Lucky Luck


Once upon a time there was a king who had an only son. When the lad was
about eighteen years old his father had to go to fight in a war against
a neighbouring country, and the king led his troops in person. He bade
his son act as Regent in his absence, but ordered him on no account to
marry till his return.

Time went by. The prince ruled the country and never even thought of
marrying. But when he reached his twenty-fifth birthday he began to
think that it might be rather nice to have a wife, and he thought so
much that at last he got quite eager about it. He remembered, however,
what his father had said, and waited some time longer, till at last it
was ten years since the king went out to war. Then the prince called
his courtiers about him and set off with a great retinue to seek a
bride. He hardly knew which way to go, so he wandered about for twenty
days, when, suddenly, he found himself in his father’s camp.

The king was delighted to see his son, and had a great many questions
to ask and answer; but when he heard that instead of quietly waiting
for him at home the prince was starting off to seek a wife he was very
angry, and said: “You may go where you please but I will not leave any
of my people with you.”

Only one faithful servant stayed with the prince and refused to part
from him. They journeyed over hill and dale till they came to a place
called Goldtown. The King of Goldtown had a lovely daughter, and the
prince, who soon heard about her beauty, could not rest till he saw
her.

He was very kindly received, for he was extremely good-looking and had
charming manners, so he lost no time in asking for her hand and her
parents gave her to him with joy. The wedding took place at once, and
the feasting and rejoicings went on for a whole month. At the end of
the month they set off for home, but as the journey was a long one they
spent the first evening at an inn. Everyone in the house slept, and
only the faithful servant kept watch. About midnight he heard three
crows, who had flown to the roof, talking together.

“That’s a handsome couple which arrived here tonight. It seems quite a
pity they should lose their lives so soon.”

“Truly,” said the second crow; “for to-morrow, when midday strikes, the
bridge over the Gold Stream will break just as they are driving over
it. But, listen! whoever overhears and tells what we have said will be
turned to stone up to his knees.”

The crows had hardly done speaking when away they flew. And close upon
them followed three pigeons.

“Even if the prince and princess get safe over the bridge they will
perish,” said they; “for the king is going to send a carriage to meet
them which looks as new as paint. But when they are seated in it a
raging wind will rise and whirl the carriage away into the clouds. Then
it will fall suddenly to earth, and they will be killed. But anyone who
hears and betrays what we have said will be turned to stone up to his
waist.”

With that the pigeons flew off and three eagles took their places, and
this is what they said:

“If the young couple does manage to escape the dangers of the bridge
and the carriage, the king means to send them each a splendid gold
embroidered robe. When they put these on they will be burnt up at once.
But whoever hears and repeats this will turn to stone from head to
foot.”

Early next morning the travellers got up and breakfasted. They began to
tell each other their dreams. At last the servant said:

“Gracious prince, I dreamt that if your Royal Highness would grant all
I asked we should get home safe and sound; but if you did not we should
certainly be lost. My dreams never deceive me, so I entreat you to
follow my advice during the rest of the journey.”

“Don’t make such a fuss about a dream,” said the prince; “dreams are
but clouds. Still, to prevent your being anxious I will promise to do
as you wish.”

With that they set out on their journey.

At midday they reached the Gold Stream. When they got to the bridge the
servant said: “Let us leave the carriage here, my prince, and walk a
little way. The town is not far off and we can easily get another
carriage there, for the wheels of this one are bad and will not hold
out much longer.”

The prince looked well at the carriage. He did not think it looked so
unsafe as his servant said; but he had given his word and he held to
it.

They got down and loaded the horses with the luggage. The prince and
his bride walked over the bridge, but the servant said he would ride
the horses through the stream so as to water and bathe them.

They reached the other side without harm, and bought a new carriage in
the town, which was quite near, and set off once more on their travels;
but they had not gone far when they met a messenger from the king who
said to the prince: “His Majesty has sent your Royal Highness this
beautiful carriage so that you may make a fitting entry into your own
country and amongst your own people.”

The prince was so delighted that he could not speak. But the servant
said: “My lord, let me examine this carriage first and then you can get
in if I find it is all right; otherwise we had better stay in our own.”

The prince made no objections, and after looking the carriage well over
the servant said: “It is as bad as it is smart”; and with that he
knocked it all to pieces, and they went on in the one that they had
bought.

At last they reached the frontier; there another messenger was waiting
for them, who said that the king had sent two splendid robes for the
prince and his bride, and begged that they would wear them for their
state entry. But the servant implored the prince to have nothing to do
with them, and never gave him any peace till he had obtained leave to
destroy the robes.

The old king was furious when he found that all his arts had failed;
that his son still lived and that he would have to give up the crown to
him now he was married, for that was the law of the land. He longed to
know how the prince had escaped, and said: “My dear son, I do indeed
rejoice to have you safely back, but I cannot imagine why the beautiful
carriage and the splendid robes I sent did not please you; why you had
them destroyed.”

“Indeed, sire,” said the prince, “I was myself much annoyed at their
destruction; but my servant had begged to direct everything on the
journey and I had promised him that he should do so. He declared that
we could not possibly get home safely unless I did as he told me.”

The old king fell into a tremendous rage. He called his Council
together and condemned the servant to death.

The gallows was put up in the square in front of the palace. The
servant was led out and his sentence read to him.

The rope was being placed round his neck, when he begged to be allowed
a few last words. “On our journey home,” he said, “we spent the first
night at an inn. I did not sleep but kept watch all night.” And then he
went on to tell what the crows had said, and as he spoke he turned to
stone up to his knees. The prince called to him to say no more as he
had proved his innocence. But the servant paid no heed to him, and by
the time his story was done he had turned to stone from head to foot.

Oh! how grieved the prince was to lose his faithful servant! And what
pained him most was the thought that he was lost through his very
faithfulness, and he determined to travel all over the world and never
rest till he found some means of restoring him to life.

Now there lived at Court an old woman who had been the prince’s nurse.
To her he confided all his plans, and left his wife, the princess, in
her care. “You have a long way before you, my son,” said the old woman;
“you must never return till you have met with Lucky Luck. If he cannot
help you no one on earth can.”

So the prince set off to try to find Lucky Luck. He walked and walked
till he got beyond his own country, and he wandered through a wood for
three days but did not meet a living being in it. At the end of the
third day he came to a river near which stood a large mill. Here he
spent the night. When he was leaving next morning the miller asked him:
“My gracious lord, where are you going all alone?”

And the prince told him.

“Then I beg your Highness to ask Lucky Luck this question: Why is it
that though I have an excellent mill, with all its machinery complete,
and get plenty of grain to grind, I am so poor that I hardly know how
to live from one day to another?”

The prince promised to inquire, and went on his way. He wandered about
for three days more, and at the end of the third day saw a little town.
It was quite late when he reached it, but he could discover no light
anywhere, and walked almost right through it without finding a house
where he could turn in. But far away at the end of the town he saw a
light in a window. He went straight to it and in the house were three
girls playing a game together. The prince asked for a night’s lodging
and they took him in, gave him some supper and got a room ready for
him, where he slept.

Next morning when he was leaving they asked where he was going and he
told them his story. “Gracious prince,” said the maidens, “do ask Lucky
Luck how it happens that here we are over thirty years old and no lover
has come to woo us, though we are good, pretty, and very industrious.”

The prince promised to inquire, and went on his way.

Then he came to a great forest and wandered about in it from morning to
night and from night to morning before he got near the other end. Here
he found a pretty stream which was different from other streams as,
instead of flowing, it stood still and began to talk: “Sir prince, tell
me what brings you into these wilds? I must have been flowing here a
hundred years and more and no one has ever yet come by.”

“I will tell you,” answered the prince, “if you will divide yourself so
that I may walk through.”

The stream parted at once, and the prince walked through without
wetting his feet; and directly he got to the other side he told his
story as he had promised.

“Oh, do ask Lucky Luck,” cried the brook, “why, though I am such a
clear, bright, rapid stream I never have a fish or any other living
creature in my waters.”

The prince said he would do so, and continued his journey.

When he got quite clear of the forest he walked on through a lovely
valley till he reached a little house thatched with rushes, and he went
in to rest for he was very tired.

Everything in the house was beautifully clean and tidy, and a cheerful
honest-looking old woman was sitting by the fire.

“Good-morning, mother,” said the prince.

“May Luck be with you, my son. What brings you into these parts?”

“I am looking for Lucky Luck,” replied the prince.

“Then you have come to the right place, my son, for I am his mother. He
is not at home just now, he is out digging in the vineyard. Do you go
too. Here are two spades. When you find him begin to dig, but don’t
speak a word to him. It is now eleven o’clock. When he sits down to eat
his dinner sit beside him and eat with him. After dinner he will
question you, and then tell him all your troubles freely. He will
answer whatever you may ask.”

With that she showed him the way, and the prince went and did just as
she had told him. After dinner they lay down to rest.

All of a sudden Lucky Luck began to speak and said: “Tell me, what sort
of man are you, for since you came here you have not spoken a word?”

“I am not dumb,” replied the young man, “but I am that unhappy prince
whose faithful servant has been turned to stone, and I want to know how
to help him.”

“And you do well, for he deserves everything. Go back, and when you get
home your wife will just have had a little boy. Take three drops of
blood from the child’s little finger, rub them on your servant’s wrists
with a blade of grass and he will return to life.”

“I have another thing to ask,” said the prince, when he had thanked
him. “In the forest near here is a fine stream but not a fish or other
living creature in it. Why is this?”

“Because no one has ever been drowned in the stream. But take care, in
crossing, to get as near the other side as you can before you say so,
or you may be the first victim yourself.”

“Another question, please, before I go. On my way here I lodged one
night in the house of three maidens. All were well-mannered,
hard-working, and pretty, and yet none has had a wooer. Why was this?”

“Because they always throw out their sweepings in the face of the sun.”

“And why is it that a miller, who has a large mill with all the best
machinery and gets plenty of corn to grind is so poor that he can
hardly live from day to day?”

“Because the miller keeps everything for himself, and does not give to
those who need it.”

The prince wrote down the answers to his questions, took a friendly
leave of Lucky Luck, and set off for home.

When he reached the stream it asked if he brought it any good news.
“When I get across I will tell you,” said he. So the stream parted; he
walked through and on to the highest part of the bank. He stopped and
shouted out:

“Listen, oh stream! Lucky Luck says you will never have any living
creature in your waters until someone is drowned in you.”

The words were hardly out of his mouth when the stream swelled and
overflowed till it reached the rock up which he had climbed, and dashed
so far up it that the spray flew over him. But he clung on tight, and
after failing to reach him three times the stream returned to its
proper course. Then the prince climbed down, dried himself in the sun,
and set out on his march home.

He spent the night once more at the mill and gave the miller his
answer, and by-and-by he told the three sisters not to throw out all
their sweepings in the face of the sun.

The prince had hardly arrived at home when some thieves tried to ford
the stream with a fine horse they had stolen. When they were half-way
across, the stream rose so suddenly that it swept them all away. From
that time it became the best fishing stream in the country-side.

The miller, too, began to give alms and became a very good man, and in
time grew so rich that he hardly knew how much he had.

And the three sisters, now that they no longer insulted the sun, had
each a wooer within a week.

When the prince got home he found that his wife had just got a fine
little boy. He did not lose a moment in pricking the baby’s finger till
the blood ran, and he brushed it on the wrists of the stone figure,
which shuddered all over and split with a loud noise in seven parts and
there was the faithful servant alive and well.

When the old king saw this he foamed with rage, stared wildly about,
flung himself on the ground and died.

The servant stayed on with his royal master and served him faithfully
all the rest of his life; and, if neither of them is dead, he is
serving him still.

[From Ungarische Mährchen.]




The Hairy Man


Somewhere or other, but I don’t know where, there lived a king who
owned two remarkably fine fields of rape, but every night two of the
rape heaps were burnt down in one of the fields. The king was extremely
angry at this, and sent out soldiers to catch whoever had set fire to
the ricks; but it was all of no use—not a soul could they see. Then he
offered nine hundred crowns to anyone who caught the evil-doer, and at
the same time ordered that whoever did not keep proper watch over the
fields should be killed; but though there were a great many people,
none seemed able to protect the fields.

The king had already put ninety-nine people to death, when a little
swineherd came to him who had two dogs; one was called “Psst,” and the
other “Hush”; and the boy told the king that he would watch over the
ricks.

When it grew dark he climbed up on the top of the fourth rick, from
where he could see the whole field. About eleven o’clock he thought he
saw someone going to a rick and putting a light to it. “Just you wait,”
thought he, and called out to his dogs: “Hi! Psst, Hush, catch him!”
But Psst and Hush had not waited for orders, and in five minutes the
man was caught.

Next morning he was brought bound before the king, who was so pleased
with the boy that he gave him a thousand crowns at once. The prisoner
was all covered with hair, almost like an animal; and altogether he was
so curious to look at that the king locked him up in a strong room and
sent out letters of invitation to all the other kings and princes
asking them to come and see this wonder.

That was all very well; but the king had a little boy of ten years old
who went to look at the hairy man also, and the man begged so hard to
be set free that the boy took pity on him. He stole the key of the
strong room from his mother and opened the door. Then he took the key
back, but the hairy man escaped and went off into the world.

Then the kings and princes began to arrive one after another, and all
were most anxious to see the hairy man; but he was gone! The king
nearly burst with rage and with the shame he felt. He questioned his
wife sharply, and told her that if she could not find and bring back
the hairy man he would put her in a hut made of rushes and burn her
there. The queen declared she had had nothing to do with the matter; if
her son had happened to take the key it had not been with her
knowledge.

So they fetched the little prince and asked him all sorts of questions,
and at last he owned that he had let the hairy man out. The king
ordered his servants to take the boy into the forest and to kill him
there, and to bring back part of his liver and lungs.

There was grief all over the palace when the king’s command was known,
for he was a great favourite. But there was no help for it, and they
took the boy out into the forest. But the man was sorry for him, and
shot a dog and carried pieces of his lungs and liver to the king, who
was satisfied, and did not trouble himself any more.

The prince wandered about in the forest and lived as best he could for
five years. One day he came upon a poor little cottage in which was an
old man. They began to talk, and the prince told his story and sad
fate. Then they recognised each other, for the old fellow was no other
than the hairy man whom the prince had set free, and who had lived ever
since in the forest.

The prince stayed here for two years; then he wished to go further. The
old man begged him hard to stay, but he would not, so his hairy friend
gave him a golden apple out of which came a horse with a golden mane,
and a golden staff with which to guide the horse. The old man also gave
him a silver apple out of which came the most beautiful hussars and a
silver staff; and a copper apple from which he could draw as many foot
soldiers as ever he wished, and a copper staff. He made the prince
swear solemnly to take the greatest care of these presents, and then he
let him go.

The boy wandered on and on till he came to a large town. Here he took
service in the king’s palace, and as no one troubled themselves about
him he lived quietly on.

One day news was brought to the king that he must go out to war. He was
horribly frightened for he had a very small army, but he had to go all
the same.

When they had all left, the prince said to the housekeeper:

“Give me leave to go to the next village—I owe a small bill there, and
I want to go and pay it”; and as there was nothing to be done in the
palace the housekeeper gave him leave.

When he got beyond the town he took out his golden apple, and when the
horse sprang out he swung himself into the saddle. Then he took the
silver and the copper apples, and with all these fine soldiers he
joined the king’s army.

The king saw them approach with fear in his heart, for he did not know
if it might not be an enemy; but the prince rode up, and bowed low
before him. “I bring your Majesty reinforcements,” said he.

The king was delighted, and all dread of his enemy at once disappeared.
The princesses were there too, and they were very friendly with the
prince and begged him to get into their carriage so as to talk to them.
But he declined, and remained on horseback, as he did not know at what
moment the battle might begin; and whilst they were all talking
together the youngest princess, who was also the loveliest, took off
her ring, and her sister tore her handkerchief in two pieces, and they
gave these gifts to the prince.

Suddenly the enemy came in sight. The king asked whether his army or
the prince’s should lead the way; but the prince set off first and with
his hussars he fought so bravely that only two of the enemy were left
alive, and these two were only spared to act as messengers.

The king was overjoyed and so were his daughters at this brilliant
victory. As they drove home they begged the prince to join them, but he
would not come, and galloped off with his hussars.

When he got near the town he packed his soldiers and his fine horse all
carefully into the apple again, and then strolled into the town. On his
return to the palace he was well scolded by the housekeeper for staying
away so long.

Well, the whole matter might have ended there; but it so happened that
the younger princess had fallen in love with the prince, as he had with
her. And as he had no jewels with him, he gave her the copper apple and
staff.

One day, as the princesses were talking with their father, the younger
one asked him whether it might not have been their servant who had
helped him so much. The king was quite angry at the idea; but, to
satisfy her, he ordered the servant’s room to be searched. And there,
to everyone’s surprise, they found the golden ring and the half of the
handkerchief. When these were brought to the king he sent for the
prince at once and asked if it had been he who had come to their
rescue.

“Yes, your Majesty, it was I,” answered the prince.

“But where did you get your army?”

“If you wish to see it, I can show it you outside the city walls.”

And so he did; but first he asked for the copper apple from the younger
princess, and when all the soldiers were drawn up there were such
numbers that there was barely room for them.

The king gave him his daughter and kingdom as a reward for his aid, and
when he heard that the prince was himself a king’s son his joy knew no
bounds. The prince packed all his soldiers carefully up once more, and
they went back into the town.

Not long after there was a grand wedding; perhaps they may all be alive
still, but I don’t know.




To Your Good Health!


Long, long ago there lived a king who was such a mighty monarch that
whenever he sneezed every one in the whole country had to say “To your
good health!” Every one said it except the shepherd with the staring
eyes, and he would not say it.

The king heard of this and was very angry, and sent for the shepherd to
appear before him.

The shepherd came and stood before the throne, where the king sat
looking very grand and powerful. But however grand or powerful he might
be the shepherd did not feel a bit afraid of him.

“Say at once, ‘To my good health!’” cried the king.

“To my good health!” replied the shepherd.

“To mine—to mine, you rascal, you vagabond!” stormed the king.

“To mine, to mine, your Majesty,” was the answer.

“But to mine—to my own,” roared the king, and beat on his breast in a
rage.

“Well, yes; to mine, of course, to my own,” cried the shepherd, and
gently tapped his breast.

The king was beside himself with fury and did not know what to do, when
the Lord Chamberlain interfered:

“Say at once—say this very moment: ‘To your health, your Majesty’; for
if you don’t say it you’ll lose your life, whispered he.

“No, I won’t say it till I get the princess for my wife,” was the
shepherd’s answer. Now the princess was sitting on a little throne
beside the king, her father, and she looked as sweet and lovely as a
little golden dove. When she heard what the shepherd said she could not
help laughing, for there is no denying the fact that this young
shepherd with the staring eyes pleased her very much; indeed he pleased
her better than any king’s son she had yet seen.

But the king was not as pleasant as his daughter, and he gave orders to
throw the shepherd into the white bear’s pit.

The guards led him away and thrust him into the pit with the white
bear, who had had nothing to eat for two days and was very hungry. The
door of the pit was hardly closed when the bear rushed at the shepherd;
but when it saw his eyes it was so frightened that it was ready to eat
itself. It shrank away into a corner and gazed at him from there, and,
in spite of being so famished, did not dare to touch him, but sucked
its own paws from sheer hunger. The shepherd felt that if he once
removed his eyes off the beast he was a dead man, and in order to keep
himself awake he made songs and sang them, and so the night went by.

Next morning the Lord Chamberlain came to see the shepherd’s bones, and
was amazed to find him alive and well. He led him to the king, who fell
into a furious passion, and said: “Well, you have learned what it is to
be very near death, and now will you say ‘To my good health’?”

But the shepherd answered: “I am not afraid of ten deaths! I will only
say it if I may have the princess for my wife.”

“Then go to your death,” cried the king; and ordered him to be thrown
into the den with the wild boars. The wild boars had not been fed for a
week, and when the shepherd was thrust into their don they rushed at
him to tear him to pieces. But the shepherd took a little flute out of
the sleeve of his jacket and began to play a merry tune, on which the
wild boars first of all shrank shyly away, and then got up on their
hind legs and danced gaily. The shepherd would have given anything to
be able to laugh, they looked so funny; but he dared not stop playing,
for he knew well enough that the moment he stopped they would fall upon
him and tear him to pieces. His eyes were of no use to him here, for he
could not have stared ten wild boars in the face at once; so he kept on
playing, and the wild boars danced very slowly, as if in a minuet, then
by degrees he played faster and faster till they could hardly twist and
turn quickly enough, and ended by all falling over each other in a
heap, quite exhausted and out of breath.

Then the shepherd ventured to laugh at last; and he laughed so long and
so loud that when the Lord Chamberlain came early in the morning,
expecting to find only his bones, the tears were still running down his
cheeks from laughter.

As soon as the king was dressed the shepherd was again brought before
him; but he was more angry than ever to think the wild boars had not
torn the man to bits, and he said: “Well, you have learned what it
feels to be near ten deaths, now say ‘To my good health!’”

But the shepherd broke in with, “I do not fear a hundred deaths, and I
will only say it if I may have the princess for my wife.”

“Then go to a hundred deaths!” roared the king, and ordered the
shepherd to be thrown down the deep vault of scythes.

The guards dragged him away to a dark dungeon, in the middle of which
was a deep well with sharp scythes all round it. At the bottom of the
well was a little light by which one could see if anyone was thrown in
whether he had fallen to the bottom.

When the shepherd was dragged to the dungeons he begged the guards to
leave him alone a little while that he might look down into the pit of
scythes; perhaps he might after all make up his mind to say “To your
good health” to the king. So the guards left him alone and he stuck up
his long stick near the well, hung his cloak round the stick and put
his hat on the top. He also hung his knapsack up inside the cloak so
that it might seem to have some body within it. When this was done he
called out to the guards and said that he had considered the matter but
after all he could not make up his mind to say what the king wished.
The guards came in, threw the hat and cloak, knapsack and stick all
down the well together, watched to see how they put out the light at
the bottom and came away, thinking that now there really was an end of
the shepherd. But he had hidden in a dark corner and was laughing to
himself all the time.

Quite early next morning came the Lord Chamberlain, carrying a lamp and
he nearly fell backwards with surprise when he saw the shepherd alive
and well. He brought him to the king, whose fury was greater than ever,
but who cried:

“Well, now you have been near a hundred deaths; will you say: ‘To your
good health’?”

But the shepherd only gave the same answer:

“I won’t say it till the princess is my wife.”

“Perhaps after all you may do it for less,” said the king, who saw that
there was no chance of making away with the shepherd; and he ordered
the state coach to be got ready, then he made the shepherd get in with
him and sit beside him, and ordered the coachman to drive to the silver
wood. When they reached it he said: “Do you see this silver wood? Well,
if you will say, ‘To your good health,’ I will give it to you.”

The shepherd turned hot and cold by turns, but he still persisted:

“I will not say it till the princess is my wife.”

The king was much vexed; he drove further on till they came to a
splendid castle, all of gold, and then he said:

“Do you see this golden castle? Well, I will give you that too, the
silver wood and the golden castle, if only you will say that one thing
to me: ‘To your good health.’”

The shepherd gaped and wondered and was quite dazzled, but he still
said:

“No; I will not say it till I have the princess for my wife.”

This time the king was overwhelmed with grief, and gave orders to drive
on to the diamond pond, and there he tried once more.

“Do you see this diamond pond? I will give you that too, the silver
wood and the golden castle and the diamond pond. You shall have them
all—all—if you will but say: ‘To your good health!’”

The shepherd had to shut his staring eyes tight not to be dazzled with
the brilliant pond, but still he said:

“No, no; I will not say it till I have the princess for my wife.”

Then the king saw that all his efforts were useless, and that he might
as well give in, so he said:

“Well, well, it’s all the same to me—I will give you my daughter to
wife; but, then, you really and truly must say to me: ‘To your good
health.’”

“Of course I’ll say it; why should I not say it? It stands to reason
that I shall say it then.”

At this the king was more delighted than anyone could have believed. He
made it known all through the country that there were to be great
rejoicings, as the princess was going to be married. And everyone
rejoiced to think that the princess, who had refused so many royal
suitors, should have ended by falling in love with the staring-eyed
shepherd.

There was such a wedding as had never been seen. Everyone ate and drank
and danced. Even the sick were feasted, and quite tiny new-born
children had presents given them.

But the greatest merry-making was in the king’s palace; there the best
bands played and the best food was cooked; a crowd of people sat down
to table, and all was fun and merry-making.

And when the groomsman, according to custom, brought in the great
boar’s head on a big dish and placed it before the king so that he
might carve it and give everyone a share, the savoury smell was so
strong that the king began to sneeze with all his might.

“To your very good health,” cried the shepherd before anyone else, and
the king was so delighted that he did not regret having given him his
daughter.

In time, when the old king died, the shepherd succeeded him. He made a
very good king and never expected his people to wish him well against
their wills; but, all the same, everyone did wish him well, for they
all loved him.

[From Russische Mährchen.]




The Story of the Seven Simons


Far, far away, beyond all sorts of countries, seas and rivers, there
stood a splendid city where lived King Archidej, who was as good as he
was rich and handsome. His great army was made up of men ready to obey
his slightest wish; he owned forty times forty cities, and in each city
he had ten palaces with silver doors, golden roofs, and crystal
windows. His council consisted of the twelve wisest men in the country,
whose long beards flowed down over their breasts, each of whom was as
learned as a whole college. This council always told the king the exact
truth.

Now the king had everything to make him happy, but he did not enjoy
anything because he could not find a bride to his mind.

One day, as he sat in his palace looking out to sea, a great ship
sailed into the harbour and several merchants came on shore. Said the
king to himself: “These people have travelled far and beheld many
lands. I will ask them if they have seen any princess who is as clever
and as handsome as I am.”

So he ordered the merchants to be brought before him, and when they
came he said: “You have travelled much and visited many wonders. I wish
to ask you a question, and I beg you to answer truthfully.

“Have you anywhere seen or heard of the daughter of an emperor, king,
or a prince, who is as clever and as handsome as I am, and who would be
worthy to be my wife and the queen of my country?”

The merchants considered for some time. At last the eldest of them
said: “I have heard that across many seas, in the Island of Busan,
there is a mighty king, whose daughter, the Princess Helena, is so
lovely that she can certainly not be plainer than your Majesty, and so
clever that the wisest greybeard cannot guess her riddles.”

“Is the island far off, and which is the way to it?”

“It is not near,” was the answer. “The journey would take ten years,
and we do not know the way. And even if we did, what use would that be?
The princess is no bride for you.”

“How dare you say so?” cried the king angrily.

“Your Majesty must pardon us; but just think for a moment. Should you
send an envoy to the island he will take ten years to get there and ten
more to return—twenty years in all. Will not the princess have grown
old in that time and have lost all her beauty?”

The king reflected gravely. Then he thanked the merchants, gave them
leave to trade in his country without paying any duties, and dismissed
them.

After they were gone the king remained deep in thought. He felt puzzled
and anxious; so he decided to ride into the country to distract his
mind, and sent for his huntsmen and falconers. The huntsmen blew their
horns, the falconers took their hawks on their wrists, and off they all
set out across country till they came to a green hedge. On the other
side of the hedge stretched a great field of maize as far as the eye
could reach, and the yellow ears swayed to and fro in the gentle breeze
like a rippling sea of gold.

The king drew rein and admired the field. “Upon my word,” said he,
“whoever dug and planted it must be good workmen. If all the fields in
my kingdom were as well cared for as this, there would be more bread
than my people could eat.” And he wished to know to whom the field
belonged.

Off rushed all his followers at once to do his bidding, and found a
nice, tidy farmhouse, in front of which sat seven peasants, lunching on
rye bread and drinking water. They wore red shirts bound with gold
braid, and were so much alike that one could hardly tell one from
another.

The messengers asked: “Who owns this field of golden maize?” And the
seven brothers answered: “The field is ours.”

“And who are you?”

“We are King Archidej’s labourers.”

These answers were repeated to the king, who ordered the brothers to be
brought before him at once. On being asked who they were, the eldest
said, bowing low:

“We, King Archidej, are your labourers, children of one father and
mother, and we all have the same name, for each of us is called Simon.
Our father taught us to be true to our king, and to till the ground,
and to be kind to our neighbours. He also taught each of us a different
trade which he thought might be useful to us, and he bade us not
neglect our mother earth, which would be sure amply to repay our
labour.”

The king was pleased with the honest peasant, and said: “You have done
well, good people, in planting your field, and now you have a golden
harvest. But I should like each of you to tell me what special trades
your father taught you.”

“My trade, O king!” said the first Simon, “is not an easy one. If you
will give me some workmen and materials I will build you a great white
pillar that shall reach far above the clouds.”

“Very good,” replied the king. “And you, Simon the second, what is your
trade?”

“Mine, your Majesty, needs no great cleverness. When my brother has
built the pillar I can mount it, and from the top, far above the
clouds, I can see what is happening: in every country under the sun.”

“Good,” said the king; “and Simon the third?”

“My work is very simple, sire. You have many ships built by learned
men, with all sorts of new and clever improvements. If you wish it I
will build you quite a simple boat—one, two, three, and it’s done! But
my plain little home-made ship is not grand enough for a king. Where
other ships take a year, mine makes the voyage in a day, and where they
would require ten years mine will do the distance in a week.”

“Good,” said the king again; “and what has Simon the fourth learnt?”

“My trade, O king, is really of no importance. Should my brother build
you a ship, then let me embark in it. If we should be pursued by an
enemy I can seize our boat by the prow and sink it to the bottom of the
sea. When the enemy has sailed off, I can draw it up to the top again.”

“That is very clever of you,” answered the king; “and what does Simon
the fifth do?”

“My work, your Majesty, is mere smith’s work. Order me to build a
smithy and I will make you a cross-bow, but from which neither the
eagle in the sky nor the wild beast in the forest is safe. The bolt
hits whatever the eye sees.”

“That sounds very useful,” said the king. “And now, Simon the sixth,
tell me your trade.”

“Sire, it is so simple I am almost ashamed to mention it. If my brother
hits any creature I catch it quicker than any dog can. If it falls into
the water I pick it up out of the greatest depths, and if it is in a
dark forest I can find it even at midnight.”

The king was much pleased with the trades and talk of the six brothers,
and said: “Thank you, good people; your father did well to teach you
all these things. Now follow me to the town, as I want to see what you
can do. I need such people as you about me; but when harvest time comes
I will send you home with royal presents.”

The brothers bowed and said: “As the king wills.” Suddenly the king
remembered that he had not questioned the seventh Simon, so he turned
to him and said: “Why are you silent? What is your handicraft?”

And the seventh Simon answered: “I have no handicraft, O king; I have
learnt nothing. I could not manage it. And if I do know how to do
anything it is not what might properly be called a real trade—it is
rather a sort of performance; but it is one which no one—not the king
himself—must watch me doing, and I doubt whether this performance of
mine would please your Majesty.”

“Come, come,” cried the king; “I will have no excuses, what is this
trade?”

“First, sire, give me your royal word that you will not kill me when I
have told you. Then you shall hear.”

“So be it, then; I give you my royal word.”

Then the seventh Simon stepped back a little, cleared his throat, and
said: “My trade, King Archidej, is of such a kind that the man who
follows it in your kingdom generally loses his life and has no hopes of
pardon. There is only one thing I can do really well, and that is—to
steal, and to hide the smallest scrap of anything I have stolen. Not
the deepest vault, even if its lock were enchanted, could prevent my
stealing anything out of it that I wished to have.”

When the king heard this he fell into a passion. “I will not pardon
you, you rascal,” he cried; “I will shut you up in my deepest dungeon
on bread and water till you have forgotten such a trade. Indeed, it
would be better to put you to death at once, and I’ve a good mind to do
so.”

“Don’t kill me, O king! I am really not as bad as you think. Why, had I
chosen, I could have robbed the royal treasury, have bribed your judges
to let me off, and built a white marble palace with what was left. But
though I know how to steal I don’t do it. You yourself asked me my
trade. If you kill me you will break your royal word.”

“Very well,” said the king, “I will not kill you. I pardon you. But
from this hour you shall be shut up in a dark dungeon. Here, guards!
away with him to the prison. But you six Simons follow me and be
assured of my royal favour.”

So the six Simons followed the king. The seventh Simon was seized by
the guards, who put him in chains and threw him in prison with only
bread and water for food. Next day the king gave the first Simon
carpenters, masons, smiths and labourers, with great stores of iron,
mortar, and the like, and Simon began to build. And he built his great
white pillar far, far up into the clouds, as high as the nearest stars;
but the other stars were higher still.

Then the second Simon climbed up the pillar and saw and heard all that
was going on through the whole world. When he came down he had all
sorts of wonderful things to tell. How one king was marching in battle
against another, and which was likely to be the victor. How, in another
place, great rejoicings were going on, while in a third people were
dying of famine. In fact there was not the smallest event going on over
the earth that was hidden from him.

Next the third Simon began. He stretched out his arms, once, twice,
thrice, and the wonder-ship was ready. At a sign from the king it was
launched, and floated proudly and safely like a bird on the waves.
Instead of ropes it had wires for rigging, and musicians played on them
with fiddle bows and made lovely music. As the ship swam about, the
fourth Simon seized the prow with his strong hand, and in a moment it
was gone—sunk to the bottom of the sea. An hour passed, and then the
ship floated again, drawn up by Simon’s left hand, while in his right
he brought a gigantic fish from the depth of the ocean for the royal
table.

Whilst this was going on the fifth Simon had built his forge and
hammered out his iron, and when the king returned from the harbour the
magic cross-bow was made.

His Majesty went out into an open field at once, looked up into the sky
and saw, far, far away, an eagle flying up towards the sun and looking
like a little speck.

“Now,” said the king, “if you can shoot that bird I will reward you.”

Simon only smiled; he lifted his cross-bow, took aim, fired, and the
eagle fell. As it was falling the sixth Simon ran with a dish, caught
the bird before it fell to earth and brought it to the king.

“Many thanks, my brave lads,” said the king; “I see that each of you is
indeed a master of his trade. You shall be richly rewarded. But now
rest and have your dinner.”

The six Simons bowed and went to dinner. But they had hardly begun
before a messenger came to say that the king wanted to see them. They
obeyed at once and found him surrounded by all his court and men of
state.

“Listen, my good fellows,” cried the king, as soon as he saw them.
“Hear what my wise counsellors have thought of. As you, Simon the
second, can see the whole world from the top of the great pillar, I
want you to climb up and to see and hear. For I am told that, far away,
across many seas, is the great kingdom of the Island of Busan, and that
the daughter of the king is the beautiful Princess Helena.”

Off ran the second Simon and clambered quickly up the pillar. He gazed
around, listened on all sides, and then slid down to report to the
king.

“Sire, I have obeyed your orders. Far away I saw the Island of Busan.
The king is a mighty monarch, but full of pride, harsh and cruel. He
sits on his throne and declares that no prince or king on earth is good
enough for his lovely daughter, that he will give her to none, and that
if any king asks for her hand he will declare war against him and
destroy his kingdom.”

“Has the king of Busan a great army?” asked King Archidej; “is his
country far off?”

“As far as I could judge,” replied Simon, “it would take you nearly ten
years in fair weather to sail there. But if the weather were stormy we
might say twelve. I saw the army being reviewed. It is not so very
large—a hundred thousand men at arms and a hundred thousand knights.
Besides these, he has a strong bodyguard and a good many cross-bowmen.
Altogether you may say another hundred thousand, and there is a picked
body of heroes who reserve themselves for great occasions requiring
particular courage.”

The king sat for some time lost in thought. At last he said to the
nobles and courtiers standing round: “I am determined to marry the
Princess Helena, but how shall I do it?”

The nobles, courtiers and counsellors said nothing, but tried to hide
behind each other. Then the third Simon said:

“Pardon me, your Majesty, if I offer my advice. You wish to go to the
Island of Busan? What can be easier? In my ship you will get there in a
week instead of in ten years. But ask your council to advise you what
to do when you arrive—in one word, whether you will win the princess
peacefully or by war?”

But the wise men were as silent as ever.

The king frowned, and was about to say something sharp, when the Court
Fool pushed his way to the front and said: “Dear me, what are all you
clever people so puzzled about? The matter is quite clear. As it seems
it will not take long to reach the island why not send the seventh
Simon? He will steal the fair maiden fast enough, and then the king,
her father, may consider how he is going to bring his army over here—it
will take him ten years to do it!—-no less! What do you think of my
plan?”

“What do I think? Why, that your idea is capital, and you shall be
rewarded for it. Come, guards, hurry as fast as you can and bring the
seventh Simon before me.”

Not many minutes later, Simon the seventh stood before the king, who
explained to him what he wished done, and also that to steal for the
benefit of his king and country was by no means a wrong thing, though
it was very wrong to steal for his own advantage.

The youngest Simon, who looked very pale and hungry, only nodded his
head.

“Come,” said the king, “tell me truly. Do you think you could steal the
Princess Helena?”

“Why should I not steal her, sire? The thing is easy enough. Let my
brother’s ship be laden with rich stuffs, brocades, Persian carpets,
pearls and jewels. Send me in the ship. Give me my four middle brothers
as companions, and keep the two others as hostages.”

When the king heard these words his heart became filled with longing,
and he ordered all to be done as Simon wished. Every one ran about to
do his bidding; and in next to no time the wonder-ship was laden and
ready to start.

The five Simons took leave of the king, went on board, and had no
sooner set sail than they were almost out of sight. The ship cut
through the waters like a falcon through the air, and just a week after
starting sighted the Island of Busan. The coast appeared to be strongly
guarded, and from afar the watchman on a high tower called out: “Halt
and anchor! Who are you? Where do you come from, and what do you want?”

The seventh Simon answered from the ship: “We are peaceful people. We
come from the country of the great and good King Archidej, and we bring
foreign wares—rich brocades, carpets, and costly jewels, which we wish
to show to your king and the princess. We desire to trade—to sell, to
buy, and to exchange.”

The brothers launched a small boat, took some of their valuable goods
with them, rowed to shore and went up to the palace. The princess sat
in a rose-red room, and when she saw the brothers coming near she
called her nurse and other women, and told them to inquire who and what
these people were, and what they wanted.

The seventh Simon answered the nurse: “We come from the country of the
wise and good King Archidej,” said he, “and we have brought all sorts
of goods for sale. We trust the king of this country may condescend to
welcome us, and to let his servants take charge of our wares. If he
considers them worthy to adorn his followers we shall be content.”

This speech was repeated to the princess, who ordered the brothers to
be brought to the red-room at once. They bowed respectfully to her and
displayed some splendid velvets and brocades, and opened cases of
pearls and precious stones. Such beautiful things had never been seen
in the island, and the nurse and waiting women stood bewildered by all
the magnificence. They whispered together that they had never beheld
anything like it. The princess too saw and wondered, and her eyes could
not weary of looking at the lovely things, or her fingers of stroking
the rich soft stuffs, and of holding up the sparkling jewels to the
light.

“Fairest of princesses,” said Simon. “Be pleased to order your
waiting-maids to accept the silks and velvets, and let your women trim
their head-dresses with the jewels; these are no special treasures. But
permit me to say that they are as nothing to the many coloured
tapestries, the gorgeous stones and ropes of pearls in our ship. We did
not like to bring more with us, not knowing what your royal taste might
be; but if it seems good to you to honour our ship with a visit, you
might condescend to choose such things as were pleasing in your eyes.”

This polite speech pleased the princess very much. She went to the king
and said: “Dear father, some merchants have arrived with the most
splendid wares. Pray allow me to go to their ship and choose out what I
like.”

The king thought and thought, frowned hard and rubbed his ear. At last
he gave consent, and ordered out his royal yacht, with 100 cross-bows,
100 knights, and 1,000 soldiers, to escort the Princess Helena.

Off sailed the yacht with the princess and her escort. The brothers
Simon came on board to conduct the princess to their ship, and, led by
the brothers and followed by her nurse and other women, she crossed the
crystal plank from one vessel to another.

The seventh Simon spread out his goods, and had so many curious and
interesting tales to tell about them, that the princess forgot
everything else in looking and listening, so that she did not know that
the fourth Simon had seized the prow of the ship, and that all of a
sudden it had vanished from sight, and was racing along in the depths
of the sea.

The crew of the royal yacht shouted aloud, the knights stood still with
terror, the soldiers were struck dumb and hung their heads. There was
nothing to be done but to sail back and tell the king of his loss.

How he wept and stormed! “Oh, light of my eyes,” he sobbed; “I am
indeed punished for my pride. I thought no one good enough to be your
husband, and now you are lost in the depths of the sea, and have left
me alone! As for all of you who saw this thing—away with you! Let them
be put in irons and lock them up in prison, whilst I think how I can
best put them to death!”

Whilst the King of Busan was raging and lamenting in this fashion,
Simon’s ship was swimming like any fish under the sea, and when the
island was well out of sight he brought it up to the surface again. At
that moment the princess recollected herself. “Nurse,” said she, “we
have been gazing at these wonders only too long. I hope my father won’t
be vexed at our delay.”

She tore herself away and stepped on deck. Neither the yacht nor the
island was in sight! Helena wrung her hands and beat her breast. Then
she changed herself into a white swan and flew off. But the fifth Simon
seized his bow and shot the swan, and the sixth Simon did not let it
fall into the water but caught it in the ship, and the swan turned into
a silver fish, but Simon lost no time and caught the fish, when, quick
as thought, the fish turned into a black mouse and ran about the ship.
It darted towards a hole, but before it could reach it Simon sprang
upon it more swiftly than any cat, and then the little mouse turned
once more into the beautiful Princess Helena.

Early one morning King Archidej sat thoughtfully at his window gazing
out to sea. His heart was sad and he would neither eat nor drink. His
thoughts were full of the Princess Helena, who was as lovely as a
dream. Is that a white gull he sees flying towards the shore, or is it
a sail? No, it is no gull, it is the wonder-ship flying along with
billowing sails. Its flags wave, the fiddlers play on the wire rigging,
the anchor is thrown out and the crystal plank laid from the ship to
the pier. The lovely Helena steps across the plank. She shines like the
sun, and the stars of heaven seem to sparkle in her eyes.

Up sprang King Archidej in haste: “Hurry, hurry,” he cried. “Let us
hasten to meet her! Let the bugles sound and the joy bells be rung!”

And the whole Court swarmed with courtiers and servants. Golden carpets
were laid down and the great gates thrown open to welcome the princess.

King Archidej went out himself, took her by the hand and led her into
the royal apartments.

“Madam,” said he, “the fame of your beauty had reached me, but I had
not dared to expect such loveliness. Still I will not keep you here
against your will. If you wish it, the wonder-ship shall take you back
to your father and your own country; but if you will consent to stay
here, then reign over me and my country as our queen.”

What more is there to tell? It is not hard to guess that the princess
listened to the king’s wooing, and their betrothal took place with
great pomp and rejoicings.

The brothers Simon were sent again to the Island of Busan with a letter
to the king from his daughter to invite him to their wedding. And the
wonder-ship arrived at the Island of Busan just as all the knights and
soldiers who had escorted the princess were being led out to execution.

Then the seventh Simon cried out from the ship: “Stop! stop! I bring a
letter from the Princess Helena!”

The King of Busan read the letter over and over again, and ordered the
knights and soldiers to be set free. He entertained King Archidej’s
ambassadors hospitably, and sent his blessing to his daughter, but he
could not be brought to attend the wedding.

When the wonder-ship got home King Archidej and Princess Helena were
enchanted with the news it brought.

The king sent for the seven Simons. “A thousand thanks to you, my brave
fellows,” he cried. “Take what gold, silver, and precious stones you
will out of my treasury. Tell me if there is anything else you wish for
and I will give it you, my good friends. Do you wish to be made nobles,
or to govern towns? Only speak.”

Then the eldest Simon bowed and said: “We are plain folk, your Majesty,
and understand simple things best. What figures should we cut as nobles
or governors? Nor do we desire gold. We have our fields which give us
food, and as much money as we need. If you wish to reward us then grant
that our land may be free of taxes, and of your goodness pardon the
seventh Simon. He is not the first who has been a thief by trade and he
will certainly not be the last.”

“So be it,” said the king; “your land shall be free of all taxes, and
Simon the seventh is pardoned.”

Then the king gave each brother a goblet of wine and invited them to
the wedding feast. And what a feast that was!

[From Ungarischen Mährchen.]




The Language of Beasts


Once upon a time a man had a shepherd who served him many years
faithfully and honestly. One day, whilst herding his flock, this
shepherd heard a hissing sound, coming out of the forest near by, which
he could not account for. So he went into the wood in the direction of
the noise to try to discover the cause. When he approached the place he
found that the dry grass and leaves were on fire, and on a tree,
surrounded by flames, a snake was coiled, hissing with terror.

The shepherd stood wondering how the poor snake could escape, for the
wind was blowing the flames that way, and soon that tree would be
burning like the rest. Suddenly the snake cried: “O shepherd! for the
love of heaven save me from this fire!”

Then the shepherd stretched his staff out over the flames and the snake
wound itself round the staff and up to his hand, and from his hand it
crept up his arm, and twined itself about his neck. The shepherd
trembled with fright, expecting every instant to be stung to death, and
said: “What an unlucky man I am! Did I rescue you only to be destroyed
myself?” But the snake answered: “Have no fear; only carry me home to
my father who is the King of the Snakes.” The shepherd, however, was
much too frightened to listen, and said that he could not go away and
leave his flock alone; but the snake said: “You need not be afraid to
leave your flock, no evil shall befall them; but make all the haste you
can.”

So he set off through the wood carrying the snake, and after a time he
came to a great gateway, made entirely of snakes intertwined one with
another. The shepherd stood still with surprise, but the snake round
his neck whistled, and immediately all the arch unwound itself.

“When we are come to my father’s house,” said his own snake to him, “he
will reward you with anything you like to ask—silver, gold, jewels, or
whatever on this earth is most precious; but take none of all these
things, ask rather to understand the language of beasts. He will refuse
it to you a long time, but in the end he will grant it to you.”

Soon after that they arrived at the house of the King of the Snakes,
who burst into tears of joy at the sight of his daughter, as he had
given her up for dead. “Where have you been all this time?” he asked,
directly he could speak, and she told him that she had been caught in a
forest fire, and had been rescued from the flames by the shepherd. The
King of the Snakes, then turning to the shepherd, said to him: “What
reward will you choose for saving my child?”

“Make me to know the language of beasts,” answered the shepherd, “that
is all I desire.”

The king replied: “Such knowledge would be of no benefit to you, for if
I granted it to you and you told any one of it, you would immediately
die; ask me rather for whatever else you would most like to possess,
and it shall be yours.”

But the shepherd answered him: “Sir, if you wish to reward me for
saving your daughter, grant me, I pray you, to know the language of
beasts. I desire nothing else”; and he turned as if to depart.

Then the king called him back, saying: “If nothing else will satisfy
you, open your mouth.” The man obeyed, and the king spat into it, and
said: “Now spit into my mouth.” The shepherd did as he was told, then
the King of the Snakes spat again into the shepherd’s mouth. When they
had spat into each other’s mouths three times, the king said:

“Now you know the language of beasts, go in peace; but, if you value
your life, beware lest you tell any one of it, else you will
immediately die.”

So the shepherd set out for home, and on his way through the wood he
heard and understood all that was said by the birds, and by every
living creature. When he got back to his sheep he found the flock
grazing peacefully, and as he was very tired he laid himself down by
them to rest a little. Hardly had he done so when two ravens flew down
and perched on a tree near by, and began to talk to each other in their
own language: “If that shepherd only knew that there is a vault full of
gold and silver beneath where that lamb is lying, what would he not
do?” When the shepherd heard these words he went straight to his master
and told him, and the master at once took a waggon, and broke open the
door of the vault, and they carried off the treasure. But instead of
keeping it for himself, the master, who was an honourable man, gave it
all up to the shepherd, saying: “Take it, it is yours. The gods have
given it to you.” So the shepherd took the treasure and built himself a
house. He married a wife, and they lived in great peace and happiness,
and he was acknowledged to be the richest man, not only of his native
village, but of all the country-side. He had flocks of sheep, and
cattle, and horses without end, as well as beautiful clothes and
jewels.

One day, just before Christmas, he said to his wife: “Prepare
everything for a great feast, to-morrow we will take things with us to
the farm that the shepherds there may make merry.” The wife obeyed, and
all was prepared as he desired. Next day they both went to the farm,
and in the evening the master said to the shepherds: “Now come, all of
you, eat, drink, and make merry. I will watch the flocks myself
to-night in your stead.” Then he went out to spend the night with the
flocks.

When midnight struck the wolves howled and the dogs barked, and the
wolves spoke in their own tongue, saying:

“Shall we come in and work havoc, and you too shall eat flesh?” And the
dogs answered in their tongue: “Come in, and for once we shall have
enough to eat.”

Now amongst the dogs there was one so old that he had only two teeth
left in his head, and he spoke to the wolves, saying: “So long as I
have my two teeth still in my head, I will let no harm be done to my
master.”

All this the master heard and understood, and as soon as morning dawned
he ordered all the dogs to be killed excepting the old dog. The farm
servants wondered at this order, and exclaimed: “But surely, sir, that
would be a pity?”

The master answered: “Do as I bid you”; and made ready to return home
with his wife, and they mounted their horses, her steed being a mare.
As they went on their way, it happened that the husband rode on ahead,
while the wife was a little way behind. The husband’s horse, seeing
this, neighed, and said to the mare: “Come along, make haste; why are
you so slow?” And the mare answered: “It is very easy for you, you
carry only your master, who is a thin man, but I carry my mistress, who
is so fat that she weights as much as three.” When the husband heard
that he looked back and laughed, which the wife perceiving, she urged
on the mare till she caught up with her husband, and asked him why he
laughed. “For nothing at all,” he answered; “just because it came into
my head.” She would not be satisfied with this answer, and urged him
more and more to tell her why he had laughed. But he controlled himself
and said: “Let me be, wife; what ails you? I do not know myself why I
laughed.” But the more he put her off, the more she tormented him to
tell her the cause of his laughter. At length he said to her: “Know,
then, that if I tell it you I shall immediately and surely die.” But
even this did not quiet her; she only besought him the more to tell
her.

Meanwhile they had reached home, and before getting down from his horse
the man called for a coffin to be brought; and when it was there he
placed it in front of the house, and said to his wife:

“See, I will lay myself down in this coffin, and will then tell you why
I laughed, for as soon as I have told you I shall surely die.” So he
lay down in the coffin, and while he took a last look around him, his
old dog came out from the farm and sat down by him, and whined. When
the master saw this, he called to his wife: “Bring a piece of bread to
give to the dog.” The wife brought some bread and threw it to the dog,
but he would not look at it. Then the farm cock came and pecked at the
bread; but the dog said to it: “Wretched glutton, you can eat like that
when you see that your master is dying?” The cock answered: “Let him
die, if he is so stupid. I have a hundred wives, which I call together
when I find a grain of corn, and as soon as they are there I swallow it
myself; should one of them dare to be angry, I would give her a lesson
with my beak. He has only one wife, and he cannot keep her in order.”

As soon as the man understood this, he got up out of the coffin, seized
a stick, and called his wife into the room, saying: “Come, and I will
tell you what you so much want to know”; and then he began to beat her
with the stick, saying with each blow: “It is that, wife, it is that!”
And in this way he taught her never again to ask why he had laughed.




The Boy Who Could Keep A Secret


Once upon a time there lived a poor widow who had one little boy. At
first sight you would not have thought that he was different from a
thousand other little boys; but then you noticed that by his side hung
the scabbard of a sword, and as the boy grew bigger the scabbard grew
bigger too. The sword which belonged to the scabbard was found by the
little boy sticking out of the ground in the garden, and every day he
pulled it up to see if it would go into the scabbard. But though it was
plainly becoming longer and longer, it was some time before the two
would fit.

However, there came a day at last when it slipped in quite easily. The
child was so delighted that he could hardly believe his eyes, so he
tried it seven times, and each time it slipped in more easily than
before. But pleased though the boy was, he determined not to tell
anyone about it, particularly not his mother, who never could keep
anything from her neighbours.

Still, in spite of his resolutions, he could not hide altogether that
something had happened, and when he went in to breakfast his mother
asked him what was the matter.

“Oh, mother, I had such a nice dream last night,” said he; “but I can’t
tell it to anybody.”

“You can tell it to me,” she answered. “It must have been a nice dream,
or you wouldn’t look so happy.”

“No, mother; I can’t tell it to anybody,” returned the boy, “till it
comes true.”

“I want to know what it was, and know it I will,” cried she, “and I
will beat you till you tell me.”

But it was no use, neither words nor blows would get the secret out of
the boy; and when her arm was quite tired and she had to leave off, the
child, sore and aching, ran into the garden and knelt weeping beside
his little sword. It was working round and round in its hole all by
itself, and if anyone except the boy had tried to catch hold of it, he
would have been badly cut. But the moment he stretched out his hand it
stopped and slid quietly into the scabbard.

For a long time the child sat sobbing, and the noise was heard by the
king as he was driving by. “Go and see who it is that is crying so,”
said he to one of his servants, and the man went. In a few minutes he
returned saying: “Your Majesty, it is a little boy who is kneeling
there sobbing because his mother has beaten him.”

“Bring him to me at once,” commanded the monarch, “and tell him that it
is the king who sends for him, and that he has never cried in all his
life and cannot bear anyone else to do so.” On receiving this message
the boy dried his tears and went with the servant to the royal
carriage. “Will you be my son?” asked the king.

“Yes, if my mother will let me,” answered the boy. And the king bade
the servant go back to the mother and say that if she would give her
boy to him, he should live in the palace and marry his prettiest
daughter as soon as he was a man.

The widow’s anger now turned into joy, and she came running to the
splendid coach and kissed the king’s hand. “I hope you will be more
obedient to his Majesty than you were to me,” she said; and the boy
shrank away half-frightened. But when she had gone back to her cottage,
he asked the king if he might fetch something that he had left in the
garden, and when he was given permission, he pulled up his little
sword, which he slid into the scabbard.

Then he climbed into the coach and was driven away.

After they had gone some distance the king said: “Why were you crying
so bitterly in the garden just now?”

“Because my mother had been beating me,” replied the boy.

“And what did she do that for?” asked the king again.

“Because I would not tell her my dream.”

“And why wouldn’t you tell it to her?”

“Because I will never tell it to anyone till it comes true,” answered
the boy.

“And won’t you tell it to me either?” asked the king in surprise.

“No, not even to you, your Majesty,” replied he.

“Oh, I am sure you will when we get home,” said the king smiling, and
he talked to him about other things till they came to the palace.

“I have brought you such a nice present,” he said to his daughters, and
as the boy was very pretty they were delighted to have him and gave him
all their best toys.

“You must not spoil him,” observed the king one day, when he had been
watching them playing together. He has a secret which he won’t tell to
anyone.”

“He will tell me,” answered the eldest princess; but the boy only shook
his head.

“He will tell me,” said the second girl.

“Not I,” replied the boy.

“He will tell me,” cried the youngest, who was the prettiest too.

“I will tell nobody till it comes true,” said the boy, as he had said
before; “and I will beat anybody who asks me.”

The king was very sorry when he heard this, for he loved the boy
dearly; but he thought it would never do to keep anyone near him who
would not do as he was bid. So he commanded his servants to take him
away and not to let him enter the palace again until he had come to his
right senses.

The sword clanked loudly as the boy was led away, but the child said
nothing, though he was very unhappy at being treated so badly when he
had done nothing. However, the servants were very kind to him, and
their children brought him fruit and all sorts of nice things, and he
soon grew merry again, and lived amongst them for many years till his
seventeenth birthday.

Meanwhile the two eldest princesses had become women, and had married
two powerful kings who ruled over great countries across the sea. The
youngest one was old enough to be married too, but she was very
particular, and turned up her nose at all the young princes who had
sought her hand.

One day she was sitting in the palace feeling rather dull and lonely,
and suddenly she began to wonder what the servants were doing, and
whether it was not more amusing down in their quarters. The king was at
his council and the queen was ill in bed, so there was no one to stop
the princess, and she hastily ran across the gardens to the houses
where the servants lived. Outside she noticed a youth who was handsomer
than any prince she had ever seen, and in a moment she knew him to be
the little boy she had once played with.

“Tell me your secret and I will marry you,” she said to him; but the
boy only gave her the beating he had promised her long ago, when she
asked him the same question. The girl was very angry, besides being
hurt, and ran home to complain to her father.

“If he had a thousand souls, I would kill them all,” swore the king.

That very day a gallows was built outside the town, and all the people
crowded round to see the execution of the young man who had dared to
beat the king’s daughter. The prisoner, with his hands tied behind his
back, was brought out by the hangman, and amidst dead silence his
sentence was being read by the judge when suddenly the sword clanked
against his side. Instantly a great noise was heard and a golden coach
rumbled over the stones, with a white flag waving out of the window. It
stopped underneath the gallows, and from it stepped the king of the
Magyars, who begged that the life of the boy might be spared.

“Sir, he has beaten my daughter, who only asked him to tell her his
secret. I cannot pardon that,” answered the princess’s father.

“Give him to me, I’m sure he will tell me the secret; or, if not, I
have a daughter who is like the Morning Star, and he is sure to tell it
to her.”

The sword clanked for the third time, and the king said angrily: “Well,
if you want him so much you can have him; only never let me see his
face again.” And he made a sign to the hangman. The bandage was removed
from the young man’s eyes, and the cords from his wrists, and he took
his seat in the golden coach beside the king of the Magyars. Then the
coachman whipped up his horses, and they set out for Buda.

The king talked very pleasantly for a few miles, and when he thought
that his new companion was quite at ease with him, he asked him what
was the secret which had brought him into such trouble. “That I cannot
tell you,” answered the youth, “until it comes true.”

“You will tell my daughter,” said the king, smiling.

“I will tell nobody,” replied the youth, and as he spoke the sword
clanked loudly. The king said no more, but trusted to his daughter’s
beauty to get the secret from him.

The journey to Buda was long, and it was several days before they
arrived there. The beautiful princess happened to be picking roses in
the garden, when her father’s coach drove up.

“Oh, what a handsome youth! Have you brought him from fairyland?” cried
she, when they all stood upon the marble steps in front of the castle.

“I have brought him from the gallows,” answered the king; rather vexed
at his daughter’s words, as never before had she consented to speak to
any man.

“I don’t care where you brought him from,” said the spoilt girl. “I
will marry him and nobody else, and we will live together till we die.”

“You will tell another tale,” replied the king, “when you ask him his
secret. After all he is no better than a servant.”

“That is nothing to me,” said the princess, “for I love him. He will
tell his secret to me, and will find a place in the middle of my
heart.”

But the king shook his head, and gave orders that the lad was to be
lodged in the summer-house.

One day, about a week later, the princess put on her finest dress, and
went to pay him a visit. She looked so beautiful that, at the sight of
her, the book dropped from his hand, and he stood up speechless. “Tell
me,” she said, coaxingly, “what is this wonderful secret? Just whisper
it in my ear, and I will give you a kiss.”

“My angel,” he answered, “be wise, and ask no questions, if you wish to
get safely back to your father’s palace; I have kept my secret all
these years, and do not mean to tell it now.”

However, the girl would not listen, and went on pressing him, till at
last he slapped her face so hard that her nose bled. She shrieked with
pain and rage, and ran screaming back to the palace, where her father
was waiting to hear if she had succeeded. “I will starve you to death,
you son of a dragon,” cried he, when he saw her dress streaming with
blood; and he ordered all the masons and bricklayers in the town to
come before him.

“Build me a tower as fast as you can,” he said, “and see that there is
room for a stool and a small table, and for nothing else. The men set
to work, and in two hours the tower was built, and they proceeded to
the palace to inform the king that his commands were fulfilled. On the
way they met the princess, who began to talk to one of the masons, and
when the rest were out of hearing she asked if he could manage to make
a hole in the tower, which nobody could see, large enough for a bottle
of wine and some food to pass through.

“To be sure I can,” said the mason, turning back, and in a few minutes
the hole was bored.

At sunset a large crowd assembled to watch the youth being led to the
tower, and after his misdeeds had been proclaimed he was solemnly
walled up. But every morning the princess passed him in food through
the hole, and every third day the king sent his secretary to climb up a
ladder and look down through a little window to see if he was dead. But
the secretary always brought back the report that he was fat and rosy.

“There is some magic about this,” said the king.

This state of affairs lasted some time, till one day a messenger
arrived from the Sultan bearing a letter for the king, and also three
canes. “My master bids me say,” said the messenger, bowing low, “that
if you cannot tell him which of these three canes grows nearest the
root, which in the middle, and which at the top, he will declare war
against you.

The king was very much frightened when he heard this, and though he
took the canes and examined them closely, he could see no difference
between them. He looked so sad that his daughter noticed it, and
inquired the reason.

“Alas! my daughter,” he answered, “how can I help being sad? The Sultan
has sent me three canes, and says that if I cannot tell him which of
them grows near the root, which in the middle, and which at the top, he
will make war upon me. And you know that his army is far greater than
mine.”

“Oh, do not despair, my father,” said she. “We shall be sure to find
out the answer”; and she ran away to the tower, and told the young man
what had occurred.

“Go to bed as usual,” replied he, “and when you wake, tell your father
that you have dreamed that the canes must be placed in warm water.
After a little while one will sink to the bottom; that is the one that
grows nearest the root. The one which neither sinks nor comes to the
surface is the cane that is cut from the middle; and the one that
floats is from the top.”

So, the next morning, the princess told her father of her dream, and by
her advice he cut notches in each of the canes when he took them out of
the water, so that he might make no mistake when he handed them back to
the messenger. The Sultan could not imagine how he had found out, but
he did not declare war.

The following year the Sultan again wanted to pick a quarrel with the
king of the Magyars, so he sent another messenger to him with three
foals, begging him to say which of the animals was born in the morning,
which at noon, and which in the evening. If an answer was not ready in
three days, war would be declared at once. The king’s heart sank when
he read the letter. He could not expect his daughter to be lucky enough
to dream rightly a second time, and as a plague had been raging through
the country, and had carried off many of his soldiers, his army was
even weaker than before. At this thought his face became so gloomy that
his daughter noticed it, and inquired what was the matter.

“I have had another letter from the Sultan,” replied the king, “and he
says that if I cannot tell him which of three foals was born in the
morning, which at noon, and which in the evening, he will declare war
at once.”

“Oh, don’t be cast down,” said she, “something is sure to happen”; and
she ran down to the tower to consult the youth.

“Go home, idol of my heart, and when night comes, pretend to scream out
in your sleep, so that your father hears you. Then tell him that you
have dreamt that he was just being carried off by the Turks because he
could not answer the question about the foals, when the lad whom he had
shut up in the tower ran up and told them which was foaled in the
morning, which at noon, and which in the evening.”

So the princess did exactly as the youth had bidden her; and no sooner
had she spoken than the king ordered the tower to be pulled down, and
the prisoner brought before him.

“I did not think that you could have lived so long without food,” said
he, “and as you have had plenty of time to repent your wicked conduct,
I will grant you pardon, on condition that you help me in a sore
strait. Read this letter from the Sultan; you will see that if I fail
to answer his question about the foals, a dreadful war will be the
result.”

The youth took the letter and read it through. “Yes, I can help you,”
replied he; “but first you must bring me three troughs, all exactly
alike. Into one you must put oats, into another wheat, and into the
third barley. The foal which eats the oats is that which was foaled in
the morning; the foal which eats the wheat is that which was foaled at
noon; and the foal which eats the barley is that which was foaled at
night.” The king followed the youth’s directions, and, marking the
foals, sent them back to Turkey, and there was no war that year.

Now the Sultan was very angry that both his plots to get possession of
Hungary had been such total failures, and he sent for his aunt, who was
a witch, to consult her as to what he should do next.

“It is not the king who has answered your questions,” observed the
aunt, when he had told his story. “He is far too stupid ever to have
done that! The person who has found out the puzzle is the son of a poor
woman, who, if he lives, will become King of Hungary. Therefore, if you
want the crown yourself, you must get him here and kill him.”

After this conversation another letter was written to the Court of
Hungary, saying that if the youth, now in the palace, was not sent to
Turkey within three days, a large army would cross the border. The
king’s heart was sorrowful as he read, for he was grateful to the lad
for what he had done to help him; but the boy only laughed, and bade
the king fear nothing, but to search the town instantly for two youths
just like each other, and he would paint himself a mask that was just
like them. And the sword at his side clanked loudly.

After a long search twin brothers were found, so exactly resembling
each other that even their own mother could not tell the difference.
The youth painted a mask that was the precise copy of them, and when he
had put it on, no one would have known one boy from the other. They set
out at once for the Sultan’s palace, and when they reached it, they
were taken straight into his presence. He made a sign for them to come
near; they all bowed low in greeting. He asked them about their
journey; they answered his questions all together, and in the same
words. If one sat down to supper, the others sat down at the same
instant. When one got up, the others got up too, as if there had been
only one body between them. The Sultan could not detect any difference
between them, and he told his aunt that he would not be so cruel as to
kill all three.

“Well, you will see a difference to-morrow,” replied the witch, “for
one will have a cut on his sleeve. That is the youth you must kill.”
And one hour before midnight, when witches are invisible, she glided
into the room where all three lads were sleeping in the same bed. She
took out a pair of scissors and cut a small piece out of the boy’s
coat-sleeve which was hanging on the wall, and then crept silently from
the room. But in the morning the youth saw the slit, and he marked the
sleeves of his two companions in the same way, and all three went down
to breakfast with the Sultan. The old witch was standing in the window
and pretended not to see them; but all witches have eyes in the backs
of their heads, and she knew at once that not one sleeve but three were
cut, and they were all as alike as before. After breakfast, the Sultan,
who was getting tired of the whole affair and wanted to be alone to
invent some other plan, told them they might return home. So, bowing
low with one accord, they went.

The princess welcomed the boy back joyfully, but the poor youth was not
allowed to rest long in peace, for one day a fresh letter arrived from
the Sultan, saying that he had discovered that the young man was a very
dangerous person, and that he must be sent to Turkey at once, and
alone. The girl burst into tears when the boy told her what was in the
letter which her father had bade her to carry to him. “Do not weep,
love of my heart,” said the boy, “all will be well. I will start at
sunrise to-morrow.”

So next morning at sunrise the youth set forth, and in a few days he
reached the Sultan’s palace. The old witch was waiting for him at the
gate, and whispered as he passed: “This is the last time you will ever
enter it.” But the sword clanked, and the lad did not even look at her.
As he crossed the threshold fifteen armed Turks barred his way, with
the Sultan at their head. Instantly the sword darted forth and cut off
the heads of everyone but the Sultan, and then went quietly back to its
scabbard. The witch, who was looking on, saw that as long as the youth
had possession of the sword, all her schemes would be in vain, and
tried to steal the sword in the night, but it only jumped out of its
scabbard and sliced off her nose, which was of iron. And in the
morning, when the Sultan brought a great army to capture the lad and
deprive him of his sword, they were all cut to pieces, while he
remained without a scratch.

Meanwhile the princess was in despair because the days slipped by, and
the young man did not return, and she never rested until her father let
her lead some troops against the Sultan. She rode proudly before them,
dressed in uniform; but they had not left the town more than a mile
behind them, when they met the lad and his little sword. When he told
them what he had done they shouted for joy, and carried him back in
triumph to the palace; and the king declared that as the youth had
shown himself worthy to become his son-in-law, he should marry the
princess and succeed to the throne at once, as he himself was getting
old, and the cares of government were too much for him. But the young
man said he must first go and see his mother, and the king sent him in
state, with a troop of soldiers as his bodyguard.

The old woman was quite frightened at seeing such an array draw up
before her little house, and still more surprised when a handsome young
man, whom she did not know, dismounted and kissed her hand, saying:
“Now, dear mother, you shall hear my secret at last! I dreamed that I
should become King of Hungary, and my dream has come true. When I was a
child, and you begged me to tell you, I had to keep silence, or the
Magyar king would have killed me. And if you had not beaten me nothing
would have happened that has happened, and I should not now be King of
Hungary.”

[From the Folk Tales of the Magyars.]




The Prince And The Dragon


Once upon a time there lived an emperor who had three sons. They were
all fine young men, and fond of hunting, and scarcely a day passed
without one or other of them going out to look for game.

One morning the eldest of the three princes mounted his horse and set
out for a neighbouring forest, where wild animals of all sorts were to
be found. He had not long left the castle, when a hare sprang out of a
thicket and dashed across the road in front. The young man gave chase
at once, and pursued it over hill and dale, till at last the hare took
refuge in a mill which was standing by the side of a river. The prince
followed and entered the mill, but stopped in terror by the door, for,
instead of a hare, before him stood a dragon, breathing fire and flame.
At this fearful sight the prince turned to fly, but a fiery tongue
coiled round his waist, and drew him into the dragon’s mouth, and he
was seen no more.

A week passed away, and when the prince never came back everyone in the
town began to grow uneasy. At last his next brother told the emperor
that he likewise would go out to hunt, and that perhaps he would find
some clue as to his brother’s disappearance. But hardly had the castle
gates closed on the prince than the hare sprang out of the bushes as
before, and led the huntsman up hill and down dale, till they reached
the mill. Into this the hare flew with the prince at his heels, when,
lo! instead of the hare, there stood a dragon breathing fire and flame;
and out shot a fiery tongue which coiled round the prince’s waist, and
lifted him straight into the dragon’s mouth, and he was seen no more.

Days went by, and the emperor waited and waited for the sons who never
came, and could not sleep at night for wondering where they were and
what had become of them. His youngest son wished to go in search of his
brothers, but for long the emperor refused to listen to him, lest he
should lose him also. But the prince prayed so hard for leave to make
the search, and promised so often that he would be very cautious and
careful, that at length the emperor gave him permission, and ordered
the best horse in the stables to be saddled for him.

Full of hope the young prince started on his way, but no sooner was he
outside the city walls than a hare sprang out of the bushes and ran
before him, till they reached the mill. As before, the animal dashed in
through the open door, but this time he was not followed by the prince.
Wiser than his brothers, the young man turned away, saying to himself:
“There are as good hares in the forest as any that have come out of it,
and when I have caught them, I can come back and look for you.”

For many hours he rode up and down the mountain, but saw nothing, and
at last, tired of waiting, he went back to the mill. Here he found an
old woman sitting, whom he greeted pleasantly.

“Good morning to you, little mother,” he said; and the old woman
answered: “Good morning, my son.”

“Tell me, little mother,” went on the prince, “where shall I find my
hare?”

“My son,” replied the old woman, “that was no hare, but a dragon who
has led many men hither, and then has eaten them all.” At these words
the prince’s heart grew heavy, and he cried, “Then my brothers must
have come here, and have been eaten by the dragon!”

“You have guessed right,” answered the old woman; “and I can give you
no better counsel than to go home at once, before the same fate
overtakes you.”

“Will you not come with me out of this dreadful place?” said the young
man.

“He took me prisoner, too,” answered she, “and I cannot shake off his
chains.”

“Then listen to me,” cried the prince. “When the dragon comes back, ask
him where he always goes when he leaves here, and what makes him so
strong; and when you have coaxed the secret from him, tell me the next
time I come.”

So the prince went home, and the old woman remained in the mill, and as
soon as the dragon returned she said to him:

“Where have you been all this time—you must have travelled far?”

“Yes, little mother, I have indeed travelled far.” answered he. Then
the old woman began to flatter him, and to praise his cleverness; and
when she thought she had got him into a good temper, she said: “I have
wondered so often where you get your strength from; I do wish you would
tell me. I would stoop and kiss the place out of pure love!” The dragon
laughed at this, and answered:

“In the hearthstone yonder lies the secret of my strength.”

Then the old woman jumped up and kissed the hearth; whereat the dragon
laughed the more, and said:

“You foolish creature! I was only jesting. It is not in the
hearthstone, but in that tall tree that lies the secret of my
strength.” Then the old woman jumped up again and put her arms round
the tree, and kissed it heartily. Loudly laughed the dragon when he saw
what she was doing.

“Old fool,” he cried, as soon as he could speak, “did you really
believe that my strength came from that tree?”

“Where is it then?” asked the old woman, rather crossly, for she did
not like being made fun of.

“My strength,” replied the dragon, “lies far away; so far that you
could never reach it. Far, far from here is a kingdom, and by its
capital city is a lake, and in the lake is a dragon, and inside the
dragon is a wild boar, and inside the wild boar is a pigeon, and inside
the pigeon a sparrow, and inside the sparrow is my strength.” And when
the old woman heard this, she thought it was no use flattering him any
longer, for never, never, could she take his strength from him.

The following morning, when the dragon had left the mill, the prince
came back, and the old woman told him all that the creature had said.
He listened in silence, and then returned to the castle, where he put
on a suit of shepherd’s clothes, and taking a staff in his hand, he
went forth to seek a place as tender of sheep.

For some time he wandered from village to village and from town to
town, till he came at length to a large city in a distant kingdom,
surrounded on three sides by a great lake, which happened to be the
very lake in which the dragon lived. As was his custom, he stopped
everybody whom he met in the streets that looked likely to want a
shepherd and begged them to engage him, but they all seemed to have
shepherds of their own, or else not to need any. The prince was
beginning to lose heart, when a man who had overheard his question
turned round and said that he had better go and ask the emperor, as he
was in search of some one to see after his flocks.

“Will you take care of my sheep?” said the emperor, when the young man
knelt before him.

“Most willingly, your Majesty,” answered the young man, and he listened
obediently while the emperor told him what he was to do.

“Outside the city walls,” went on the emperor, “you will find a large
lake, and by its banks lie the richest meadows in my kingdom. When you
are leading out your flocks to pasture, they will all run straight to
these meadows, and none that have gone there have ever been known to
come back. Take heed, therefore, my son, not to suffer your sheep to go
where they will, but drive them to any spot that you think best.”

With a low bow the prince thanked the emperor for his warning, and
promised to do his best to keep the sheep safe. Then he left the palace
and went to the market-place, where he bought two greyhounds, a hawk,
and a set of pipes; after that he took the sheep out to pasture. The
instant the animals caught sight of the lake lying before them, they
trotted off as fast as their legs would go to the green meadows lying
round it. The prince did not try to stop them; he only placed his hawk
on the branch of a tree, laid his pipes on the grass, and bade the
greyhounds sit still; then, rolling up his sleeves and trousers, he
waded into the water crying as he did so: “Dragon! dragon! if you are
not a coward, come out and fight with me!” And a voice answered from
the depths of the lake:

“I am waiting for you, O prince”; and the next minute the dragon reared
himself out of the water, huge and horrible to see. The prince sprang
upon him and they grappled with each other and fought together till the
sun was high, and it was noonday. Then the dragon gasped:

“O prince, let me dip my burning head once into the lake, and I will
hurl you up to the top of the sky.” But the prince answered, “Oh, ho!
my good dragon, do not crow too soon! If the emperor’s daughter were
only here, and would kiss me on the forehead, I would throw you up
higher still!” And suddenly the dragon’s hold loosened, and he fell
back into the lake.

As soon as it was evening, the prince washed away all signs of the
fight, took his hawk upon his shoulder, and his pipes under his arm,
and with his greyhounds in front and his flock following after him he
set out for the city. As they all passed through the streets the people
stared in wonder, for never before had any flock returned from the
lake.

The next morning he rose early, and led his sheep down the road to the
lake. This time, however, the emperor sent two men on horseback to ride
behind him, with orders to watch the prince all day long. The horsemen
kept the prince and his sheep in sight, without being seen themselves.
As soon as they beheld the sheep running towards the meadows, they
turned aside up a steep hill, which overhung the lake. When the
shepherd reached the place he laid, as before, his pipes on the grass
and bade the greyhounds sit beside them, while the hawk he perched on
the branch of the tree. Then he rolled up his trousers and his sleeves,
and waded into the water crying:

“Dragon! dragon! if you are not a coward, come out and fight with me!”
And the dragon answered:

“I am waiting for you, O prince,” and the next minute he reared himself
out of the water, huge and horrible to see. Again they clasped each
other tight round the body and fought till it was noon, and when the
sun was at its hottest, the dragon gasped:

“O prince, let me dip my burning head once in the lake, and I will hurl
you up to the top of the sky.” But the prince answered:

“Oh, ho! my good dragon, do not crow too soon! If the emperor’s
daughter were only here, and would kiss me on the forehead, I would
throw you up higher still!” And suddenly the dragon’s hold loosened,
and he fell back into the lake.

As soon as it was evening the prince again collected his sheep, and
playing on his pipes he marched before them into the city. When he
passed through the gates all the people came out of their houses to
stare in wonder, for never before had any flock returned from the lake.

Meanwhile the two horsemen had ridden quickly back, and told the
emperor all that they had seen and heard. The emperor listened eagerly
to their tale, then called his daughter to him and repeated it to her.

“To-morrow,” he said, when he had finished, “you shall go with the
shepherd to the lake, and then you shall kiss him on the forehead as he
wishes.”

But when the princess heard these words, she burst into tears, and
sobbed out:

“Will you really send me, your only child, to that dreadful place, from
which most likely I shall never come back?”

“Fear nothing, my little daughter, all will be well. Many shepherds
have gone to that lake and none have ever returned; but this one has in
these two days fought twice with the dragon and has escaped without a
wound. So I hope to-morrow he will kill the dragon altogether, and
deliver this land from the monster who has slain so many of our bravest
men.”

Scarcely had the sun begun to peep over the hills next morning, when
the princess stood by the shepherd’s side, ready to go to the lake. The
shepherd was brimming over with joy, but the princess only wept
bitterly. “Dry your tears, I implore you,” said he. “If you will just
do what I ask you, and when the time comes, run and kiss my forehead,
you have nothing to fear.”

Merrily the shepherd blew on his pipes as he marched at the head of his
flock, only stopping every now and then to say to the weeping girl at
his side:

“Do not cry so, Heart of Gold; trust me and fear nothing.” And so they
reached the lake.

In an instant the sheep were scattered all over the meadows, and the
prince placed his hawk on the tree, and his pipes on the grass, while
he bade his greyhounds lie beside them. Then he rolled up his trousers
and his sleeves, and waded into the water, calling:

“Dragon! dragon! if you are not a coward, come forth, and let us have
one more fight together.” And the dragon answered: “I am waiting for
you, O prince”; and the next minute he reared himself out of the water,
huge and horrible to see. Swiftly he drew near to the bank, and the
prince sprang to meet him, and they grasped each other round the body
and fought till it was noon. And when the sun was at its hottest, the
dragon cried:

“O prince, let me dip my burning head in the lake, and I will hurl you
to the top of the sky.” But the prince answered:

“Oh, ho! my good dragon, do not crow too soon! If the emperor’s
daughter were only here, and she would kiss my forehead, I would throw
you higher still.”

Hardly had he spoken, when the princess, who had been listening, ran up
and kissed him on the forehead. Then the prince swung the dragon
straight up into the clouds, and when he touched the earth again, he
broke into a thousand pieces. Out of the pieces there sprang a wild
boar and galloped away, but the prince called his hounds to give chase,
and they caught the boar and tore it to bits. Out of the pieces there
sprang a hare, and in a moment the greyhounds were after it, and they
caught it and killed it; and out of the hare there came a pigeon.
Quickly the prince let loose his hawk, which soared straight into the
air, then swooped upon the bird and brought it to his master. The
prince cut open its body and found the sparrow inside, as the old woman
had said.

“Now,” cried the prince, holding the sparrow in his hand, “now you
shall tell me where I can find my brothers.”

“Do not hurt me,” answered the sparrow, “and I will tell you with all
my heart.” Behind your father’s castle stands a mill, and in the mill
are three slender twigs. Cut off these twigs and strike their roots
with them, and the iron door of a cellar will open. In the cellar you
will find as many people, young and old, women and children, as would
fill a kingdom, and among them are your brothers.”

By this time twilight had fallen, so the prince washed himself in the
lake, took the hawk on his shoulder and the pipes under his arm, and
with his greyhounds before him and his flock behind him, marched gaily
into the town, the princess following them all, still trembling with
fright. And so they passed through the streets, thronged with a
wondering crowd, till they reached the castle.

Unknown to anyone, the emperor had stolen out on horseback, and had
hidden himself on the hill, where he could see all that happened. When
all was over, and the power of the dragon was broken for ever, he rode
quickly back to the castle, and was ready to receive the prince with
open arms, and to promise him his daughter to wife. The wedding took
place with great splendour, and for a whole week the town was hung with
coloured lamps, and tables were spread in the hall of the castle for
all who chose to come and eat. And when the feast was over, the prince
told the emperor and the people who he really was, and at this everyone
rejoiced still more, and preparations were made for the prince and
princess to return to their own kingdom, for the prince was impatient
to set free his brothers.

The first thing he did when he reached his native country was to hasten
to the mill, where he found the three twigs as the sparrow had told
him. The moment that he struck the root the iron door flew open, and
from the cellar a countless multitude of men and women streamed forth.
He bade them go one by one wheresoever they would, while he himself
waited by the door till his brothers passed through. How delighted they
were to meet again, and to hear all that the prince had done to deliver
them from their enchantment. And they went home with him and served him
all the days of their lives, for they said that he only who had proved
himself brave and faithful was fit to be king.

[From Volksmarehen der Serben.]




Little Wildrose


Once upon a time the things in this story happened, and if they had not
happened then the story would never have been told. But that was the
time when wolves and lambs lay peacefully together in one stall, and
shepherds dined on grassy banks with kings and queens.

Once upon a time, then, my dear good children, there lived a man. Now
this man was really a hundred years old, if not fully twenty years
more. And his wife was very old too—how old I do not know; but some
said she was as old as the goddess Venus herself. They had been very
happy all these years, but they would have been happier still if they
had had any children; but old though they were they had never made up
their minds to do without them, and often they would sit over the fire
and talk of how they would have brought up their children if only some
had come to their house.

One day the old man seemed sadder and more thoughtful than was common
with him, and at last he said to his wife: “Listen to me, old woman!”

“What do you want?” asked she.

“Get me some money out of the chest, for I am going a long journey—all
through the world—to see if I cannot find a child, for my heart aches
to think that after I am dead my house will fall into the hands of a
stranger. And this let me tell you: that if I never find a child I
shall not come home again.”

Then the old man took a bag and filled it with food and money, and
throwing it over his shoulders, bade his wife farewell.

For long he wandered, and wandered, and wandered, but no child did he
see; and one morning his wanderings led him to a forest which was so
thick with trees that no light could pass through the branches. The old
man stopped when he saw this dreadful place, and at first was afraid to
go in; but he remembered that, after all, as the proverb says: “It is
the unexpected that happens,” and perhaps in the midst of this black
spot he might find the child he was seeking. So summoning up all his
courage he plunged boldly in.

How long he might have been walking there he never could have told you,
when at last he reached the mouth of a cave where the darkness seemed a
hundred times darker than the wood itself. Again he paused, but he felt
as if something was driving him to enter, and with a beating heart he
stepped in.

For some minutes the silence and darkness so appalled him that he stood
where he was, not daring to advance one step. Then he made a great
effort and went on a few paces, and suddenly, far before him, he saw
the glimmer of a light. This put new heart into him, and he directed
his steps straight towards the faint rays, till he could see, sitting
by it, an old hermit, with a long white beard.

The hermit either did not hear the approach of his visitor, or
pretended not to do so, for he took no notice, and continued to read
his book. After waiting patiently for a little while, the old man fell
on his knees, and said: “Good morning, holy father!” But he might as
well have spoken to the rock. “Good morning, holy father,” he said
again, a little louder than before, and this time the hermit made a
sign to him to come nearer. “My son,” whispered he, in a voice that
echoed through the cavern, “what brings you to this dark and dismal
place? Hundreds of years have passed since my eyes have rested on the
face of a man, and I did not think to look on one again.”.

“My misery has brought me here,” replied the old man; “I have no child,
and all our lives my wife and I have longed for one. So I left my home,
and went out into the world, hoping that somewhere I might find what I
was seeking.”

Then the hermit picked up an apple from the ground, and gave it to him,
saying: “Eat half of this apple, and give the rest to your wife, and
cease wandering through the world.”

The old man stooped and kissed the feet of the hermit for sheer joy,
and left the cave. He made his way through the forest as fast as the
darkness would let him, and at length arrived in flowery fields, which
dazzled him with their brightness. Suddenly he was seized with a
desperate thirst, and a burning in his throat. He looked for a stream
but none was to be seen, and his tongue grew more parched every moment.
At length his eyes fell on the apple, which all this while he had been
holding in his hand, and in his thirst he forgot what the hermit had
told him, and instead of eating merely his own half, he ate up the old
woman’s also; after that he went to sleep.

When he woke up he saw something strange lying on a bank a little way
off, amidst long trails of pink roses. The old man got up, rubbed his
eyes, and went to see what it was, when, to his surprise and joy, it
proved to be a little girl about two years old, with a skin as pink and
white as the roses above her. He took her gently in his arms, but she
did not seem at all frightened, and only jumped and crowed with
delight; and the old man wrapped his cloak round her, and set off for
home as fast as his legs would carry him.

When they were close to the cottage where they lived he laid the child
in a pail that was standing near the door, and ran into the house,
crying: “Come quickly, wife, quickly, for I have brought you a
daughter, with hair of gold and eyes like stars!”

At this wonderful news the old woman flew downstairs, almost tumbling
down ill her eagerness to see the treasure; but when her husband led
her to the pail it was perfectly empty! The old man was nearly beside
himself with horror, while his wife sat down and sobbed with grief and
disappointment. There was not a spot round about which they did not
search, thinking that somehow the child might have got out of the pail
and hidden itself for fun; but the little girl was not there, and there
was no sign of her.

“Where can she be?” moaned the old man, in despair. “Oh, why did I ever
leave her, even for a moment? Have the fairies taken her, or has some
wild beast carried her off?” And they began their search all over
again; but neither fairies nor wild beasts did they meet with, and with
sore hearts they gave it up at last and turned sadly into the hut.

And what had become of the baby? Well, finding herself left alone in a
strange place she began to cry with fright, and an eagle hovering near,
heard her, and went to see what the sound came from. When he beheld the
fat pink and white creature he thought of his hungry little ones at
home, and swooping down he caught her up in his claws and was soon
flying with her over the tops of the trees. In a few minutes he reached
the one in which he had built his nest, and laying little Wildrose (for
so the old man had called her) among his downy young eaglets, he flew
away. The eaglets naturally were rather surprised at this strange
animal, so suddenly popped down in their midst, but instead of
beginning to eat her, as their father expected, they nestled up close
to her and spread out their tiny wings to shield her from the sun.

Now, in the depths of the forest where the eagle had built his nest,
there ran a stream whose waters were poisonous, and on the banks of
this stream dwelt a horrible lindworm with seven heads. The lindworm
had often watched the eagle flying about the top of the tree, carrying
food to his young ones and, accordingly, he watched carefully for the
moment when the eaglets began to try their wings and to fly away from
the nest. Of course, if the eagle himself was there to protect them
even the lindworm, big and strong as he was, knew that he could do
nothing; but when he was absent, any little eaglets who ventured too
near the ground would be sure to disappear down the monster’s throat.
Their brothers, who had been left behind as too young and weak to see
the world, knew nothing of all this, but supposed their turn would soon
come to see the world also. And in a few days their eyes, too, opened
and their wings flapped impatiently, and they longed to fly away above
the waving tree-tops to mountain and the bright sun beyond. But that
very midnight the lindworm, who was hungry and could not wait for his
supper, came out of the brook with a rushing noise, and made straight
for the tree. Two eyes of flame came creeping nearer, nearer, and two
fiery tongues were stretching themselves out closer, closer, to the
little birds who were trembling and shuddering in the farthest corner
of the nest. But just as the tongues had almost reached them, the
lindworm gave a fearful cry, and turned and fell backwards. Then came
the sound of battle from the ground below, and the tree shook, though
there was no wind, and roars and snarls mixed together, till the
eaglets felt more frightened than ever, and thought their last hour had
come. Only Wildrose was undisturbed, and slept sweetly through it all.

In the morning the eagle returned and saw traces of a fight below the
tree, and here and there a handful of yellow mane lying about, and here
and there a hard scaly substance; when he saw that he rejoiced greatly,
and hastened to the nest.

“Who has slain the lindworm?” he asked of his children; there were so
many that he did not at first miss the two which the lindworm had
eaten. But the eaglets answered that they could not tell, only that
they had been in danger of their lives, and at the last moment they had
been delivered. Then the sunbeam had struggled through the thick
branches and caught Wildrose’s golden hair as she lay curled up in the
corner, and the eagle wondered, as he looked, whether the little girl
had brought him luck, and it was her magic which had killed his enemy.

“Children,” he said, “I brought her here for your dinner, and you have
not touched her; what is the meaning of this?” But the eaglets did not
answer, and Wildrose opened her eyes, and seemed seven times lovelier
than before.

From that day Wildrose lived like a little princess. The eagle flew
about the wood and collected the softest, greenest moss he could find
to make her a bed, and then he picked with his beak all the brightest
and prettiest flowers in the fields or on the mountains to decorate it.
So cleverly did he manage it that there was not a fairy in the whole of
the forest who would not have been pleased to sleep there, rocked to
and fro by the breeze on the treetops. And when the little ones were
able to fly from their nest he taught them where to look for the fruits
and berries which she loved.

So the time passed by, and with each year Wildrose grew taller and more
beautiful, and she lived happily in her nest and never wanted to go out
of it, only standing at the edge in the sunset, and looking upon the
beautiful world. For company she had all the birds in the forest, who
came and talked to her, and for playthings the strange flowers which
they brought her from far, and the butterflies which danced with her.
And so the days slipped away, and she was fourteen years old.

One morning the emperor’s son went out to hunt, and he had not ridden
far, before a deer started from under a grove of trees, and ran before
him. The prince instantly gave chase, and where the stag led he
followed, till at length he found himself in the depths of the forest,
where no man before had trod.

The trees were so thick and the wood so dark, that he paused for a
moment and listened, straining his ears to catch some sound to break a
silence which almost frightened him. But nothing came, not even the
baying of a hound or the note of a horn. He stood still, and wondered
if he should go on, when, on looking up, a stream of light seemed to
flow from the top of a tall tree. In its rays he could see the nest
with the young eaglets, who were watching him over the side. The prince
fitted an arrow into his bow and took his aim, but, before he could let
fly, another ray of light dazzled him; so brilliant was it, that his
bow dropped, and he covered his face with his hands. When at last he
ventured to peep, Wildrose, with her golden hair flowing round her, was
looking at him. This was the first time she had seen a man.

“Tell me how I can reach you?” cried he; but Wildrose smiled and shook
her head, and sat down quietly.

The prince saw that it was no use, and turned and made his way out of
the forest. But he might as well have stayed there, for any good he was
to his father, so full was his heart of longing for Wildrose. Twice he
returned to the forest in the hopes of finding her, but this time
fortune failed him, and he went home as sad as ever.

At length the emperor, who could not think what had caused this change,
sent for his son and asked him what was the matter. Then the prince
confessed that the image of Wildrose filled his soul, and that he would
never be happy without her. At first the emperor felt rather
distressed. He doubted whether a girl from a tree top would make a good
empress; but he loved his son so much that he promised to do all he
could to find her. So the next morning heralds were sent forth
throughout the whole land to inquire if anyone knew where a maiden
could be found who lived in a forest on the top of a tree, and to
promise great riches and a place at court to any person who should find
her. But nobody knew. All the girls in the kingdom had their homes on
the ground, and laughed at the notion of being brought up in a tree. “A
nice kind of empress she would make,” they said, as the emperor had
done, tossing their heads with disdain; for, having read many books,
they guessed what she was wanted for.

The heralds were almost in despair, when an old woman stepped out of
the crowd and came and spoke to them. She was not only very old, but
she was very ugly, with a hump on her back and a bald head, and when
the heralds saw her they broke into rude laughter. “I can show you the
maiden who lives in the tree-top,” she said, but they only laughed the
more loudly.

“Get away, old witch!” they cried, “you will bring us bad luck”; but
the old woman stood firm, and declared that she alone knew where to
find the maiden.

“Go with her,” said the eldest of the heralds at last. “The emperor’s
orders are clear, that whoever knew anything of the maiden was to come
at once to court. Put her in the coach and take her with us.”

So in this fashion the old woman was brought to court.

“You have declared that you can bring hither the maiden from the wood?”
said the emperor, who was seated on his throne.

“Yes, your Majesty, and I will keep my word,” said she.

“Then bring her at once,” said the emperor.

“Give me first a kettle and a tripod,” asked the old w omen, and the
emperor ordered them to be brought instantly. The old woman picked them
up, and tucking them under her arm went on her way, keeping at a little
distance behind the royal huntsmen, who in their turn followed the
prince.

Oh, what a noise that old woman made as she walked along! She chattered
to herself so fast and clattered her kettle so loudly that you would
have thought that a whole campful of gipsies must be coming round the
next corner. But when they reached the forest, she bade them all wait
outside, and entered the dark wood by herself.

She stopped underneath the tree where the maiden dwelt and, gathering
some dry sticks, kindled a fire. Next, she placed the tripod over it,
and the kettle on top. But something was the matter with the kettle. As
fast as the old woman put it where it was to stand, that kettle was
sure to roll off, falling to the ground with a crash.

It really seemed bewitched, and no one knows what might have happened
if Wildrose, who had been all the time peeping out of her nest, had not
lost patience at the old woman’s stupidity, and cried out: “The tripod
won’t stand on that hill, you must move it!”

“But where am I to move it to, my child?” asked the old woman, looking
up to the nest, and at the same moment trying to steady the kettle with
one hand and the tripod with the other.

“Didn’t I tell you that it was no good doing that,” said Wildrose, more
impatiently than before. “Make a fire near a tree and hang the kettle
from one of the branches.”

The old woman took the kettle and hung it on a little twig, which broke
at once, and the kettle fell to the ground.

“If you would only show me how to do it, perhaps I should understand,”
said she.

Quick as thought, the maiden slid down the smooth trunk of the tree,
and stood beside the stupid old woman, to teach her how things ought to
be done. But in an instant the old woman had caught up the girl and
swung her over her shoulders, and was running as fast as she could go
to the edge of the forest, where she had left the prince. When he saw
them coming he rushed eagerly to meet them, and he took the maiden in
his arms and kissed her tenderly before them all. Then a golden dress
was put on her, and pearls were twined in her hair, and she took her
seat in the emperor’s carriage which was drawn by six of the whitest
horses in the world, and they carried her, without stopping to draw
breath, to the gates of the palace. And in three days the wedding was
celebrated, and the wedding feast was held, and everyone who saw the
bride declared that if anybody wanted a perfect wife they must go to
seek her on top of a tree.

[ Adapted from file Roumanian.]




Tiidu The Piper


Once upon a time there lived a poor man who had more children than
bread to feed them with. However, they were strong and willing, and
soon learned to make themselves of use to their father and mother, and
when they were old enough they went out to service, and everyone was
very glad to get them for servants, for they worked hard and were
always cheerful. Out of all the ten or eleven, there was only one who
gave his parents any trouble, and this was a big lazy boy whose name
was Tiidu. Neither scoldings nor beatings nor kind words had any effect
on him, and the older he grew the idler he got. He spent his winters
crouching close to a warm stove, and his summers asleep under a shady
tree; and if he was not doing either of these things he was playing
tunes on his flute.

One day he was sitting under a bush playing so sweetly that you might
easily have mistaken the notes for those of a bird, when an old man
passed by. “What trade do you wish to follow, my son?” he asked in a
friendly voice, stopping as he did so in front of the youth.

“If I were only a rich man, and had no need to work,” replied the boy,
“I should not follow any. I could not bear to be anybody’s servant, as
all my brothers and sisters are.”

The old man laughed as he heard this answer, and said: “But I do not
exactly see where your riches are to come from if you do not work for
them. Sleeping cats catch no mice. He who wishes to become rich must
use either his hands or his head, and be ready to toil night and day,
or else—”

But here the youth broke in rudely:

“Be silent, old man! I have been told all that a hundred times over;
and it runs off me like water off a duck’s back. No one will ever make
a worker out of me.”

“You have one gift,” replied the old man, taking no notice of this
speech, “and if you would only go about and play the pipes, you would
easily earn, not only your daily bread, but a little money into the
bargain. Listen to me; get yourself a set of pipes, and learn to play
on them as well as you do on your flute, and wherever there are men to
hear you, I promise you will never lack money.”

“But where am I to get the pipes from?” asked the youth.

“Blow on your flute for a few days,” replied the old man, “and you will
soon be able to buy your pipes. By-and-by I will come back again and
see if you have taken my advice, and whether you are likely to grow
rich.” And so saying he went his way.

Tiidu stayed where he was a little longer, thinking of all the old man
had told him, and the more he thought the surer he felt that the old
man was right. He determined to try whether his plan would really bring
luck; but as he did not like being laughed at he resolved not to tell
anyone a word about it. So next morning he left home—and never came
back! His parents did not take his loss much to heart, but were rather
glad that their useless son had for once shown a little spirit, and
they hoped that time and hardship might cure Tiidu of his idle folly.

For some weeks Tiidu wandered from one village to another, and proved
for himself the truth of the old man’s promise. The people he met were
all friendly and kind, and enjoyed his flute-playing, giving him his
food in return, and even a few pence. These pence the youth hoarded
carefully till he had collected enough to buy a beautiful pair of
pipes. Then he felt himself indeed on the high road to riches. Nowhere
could pipes be found as fine as his, or played in so masterly a manner.
Tiidu’s pipes set everybody’s legs dancing. Wherever there was a
marriage, a christening, or a feast of any kind, Tiidu must be there,
or the evening would be a failure. In a few years he had become so
noted a piper that people would travel far and wide to hear him.

One day he was invited to a christening where many rich men from the
neighbouring town were present, and all agreed that never in all their
lives had they heard such playing as his. They crowded round him, and
praised him, and pressed him to come to their homes, declaring that it
was a shame not to give their friends the chance of hearing such music.
Of course all this delighted Tiidu, who accepted gladly, and left their
houses laden with money and presents of every kind; one great lord
clothed him in a magnificent dress, a second hung a chain of pearls
round his neck, while a third handed him a set of new pipes encrusted
in silver. As for the ladies, the girls twisted silken scarves round
his plumed hat, and their mothers knitted him gloves of all colours, to
keep out the cold. Any other man in Tiidu’s place would have been
contented and happy in this life; but his craving for riches gave him
no rest, and only goaded him day by day to fresh exertions, so that
even his own mother would not have known him for the lazy boy who was
always lying asleep in one place or the other.

Now Tiidu saw quite clearly that he could only hope to become rich by
means of his pipes, and set about thinking if there was nothing he
could do to make the money flow in faster. At length he remembered
having heard some stories of a kingdom in the Kungla country, where
musicians of all sorts were welcomed and highly paid; but where it was,
or how it was reached, he could not recollect, however hard he thought.
In despair, he wandered along the coast, hoping to see some ship or
sailing boat that would take him where he wished to go, and at length
he reached the town of Narva, where several merchantmen were lying at
anchor. To his great joy, he found that one of them was sailing for
Kungla in a few days, and he hastily went on board, and asked for the
captain. But the cost of the passage was more than the prudent Tiidu
cared to pay, and though he played his best on his pipes, the captain
refused to lower his price, and Tiidu was just thinking of returning on
shore when his usual luck flew to his aid. A young sailor, who had
heard him play, came secretly to him, and offered to hide him on board,
in the absence of the captain. So the next night, as soon as it was
dark, Tiidu stepped softly on deck, and was hidden by his friend down
in the hold in a corner between two casks. Unseen by the rest of the
crew the sailor managed to bring him food and drink, and when they were
well out of sight of land he proceeded to carry out a plan he had
invented to deliver Tiidu from his cramped quarters. At midnight, while
he was keeping watch and everyone else was sleeping, the man bade his
friend Tiidu follow him on deck, where he tied a rope round Tiidu’s
body, fastening the other end carefully to one of the ship’s ropes.
“Now,” he said, “I will throw you into the sea, and you must shout for
help; and when you see the sailors coming untie the rope from your
waist, and tell them that you have swum after the ship all the way from
shore.”

At first Tiidu did not much like this scheme, for the sea ran high, but
he was a good swimmer, and the sailor assured him that there was no
danger. As soon as he was in the water, his friend hastened to rouse
his mates, declaring that he was sure that there was a man in the sea,
following the ship. They all came on deck, and what was their surprise
when they recognised the person who had bargained about a passage the
previous day with the captain.

“Are you a ghost, or a dying man?” they asked him trembling, as they
stooped over the side of the ship.

“I shall soon indeed be a dead man if you do not help me,” answered
Tiidu, “for my strength is going fast.”

Then the captain seized a rope and flung it out to him, and Tiidu held
it between his teeth, while, unseen by the sailors; he loosed the one
tied round his waist.

“Where have you come from?” said the captain, when Tiidu was brought up
on board the ship.

“I have followed you from the harbour,” answered he, “and have been
often in sore dread lest my strength should fail me. I hoped that by
swimming after the ship I might at last reach Kungla, as I had no money
to pay my passage.” The captain’s heart melted at these words, and he
said kindly: “You may be thankful that you were not drowned. I will
land you at Kungla free of payment, as you are so anxious to get there.
So he gave him dry clothes to wear, and a berth to sleep in, and Tiidu
and his friend secretly made merry over their cunning trick.

For the rest of the voyage the ship’s crew treated Tiidu as something
higher than themselves, seeing that in all their lives they had never
met with any man that could swim for as many hours as he had done. This
pleased Tiidu very much, though he knew that he had really done nothing
to deserve it, and in return he delighted them by tunes on his pipes.
When, after some days, they cast anchor at Kungla, the story of his
wonderful swim brought him many friends, for everybody wished to hear
him tell the tale himself. This might have been all very well, had not
Tiidu lived in dread that some day he would be asked to give proof of
his marvellous swimming powers, and then everything would be found out.
Meanwhile he was dazzled with the splendour around him, and more than
ever he longed for part of the riches, about which the owners seemed to
care so little.

He wandered through the streets for many days, seeking some one who
wanted a servant; but though more than one person would have been glad
to engage him, they seemed to Tiidu not the sort of people to help him
to get rich quickly. At last, when he had almost made up his mind that
he must accept the next place offered him, he happened to knock at the
door of a rich merchant who was in need of a scullion, and gladly
agreed to do the cook’s bidding, and it was in this merchant’s house
that he first learned how great were the riches of the land of Kungla.
All the vessels which in other countries are made of iron, copper,
brass, or tin, in Kungla were made of silver, or even of gold. The food
was cooked in silver saucepans, the bread baked in a silver oven, while
the dishes and their covers were all of gold. Even the very pigs’
troughs were of silver too. But the sight of these things only made
Tiidu more covetous than before. “What is the use of all this wealth
that I have constantly before my eyes,” thought he, “if none of it is
mine? I shall never grow rich by what I earn as a scullion, even though
I am paid as much in a month as I should get elsewhere in a year.”

By this time he had been in his place for two years, and had put by
quite a large sum of money. His passion of saving had increased to such
a pitch that it was only by his master’s orders that he ever bought any
new clothes, “For,” said the merchant, “I will not have dirty people in
my house.” So with a heavy heart Tiidu spent some of his next month’s
wages on a cheap coat.

One day the merchant held a great feast in honour of the christening of
his youngest child, and he gave each of his servants a handsome garment
for the occasion. The following Sunday, Tiidu, who liked fine clothes
when he did not have to pay for them, put on his new coat, and went for
a walk to some beautiful pleasure gardens, which were always full of
people on a sunny day. He sat down under a shady tree, and watched the
passers-by, but after a little he began to feel rather lonely, for he
knew nobody and nobody knew him. Suddenly his eyes fell on the figure
of an old man, which seemed familiar to him, though he could not tell
when or where he had seen it. He watched the figure for some time, till
at length the old man left the crowded paths, and threw himself on the
soft grass under a lime tree, which stood at some distance from where
Tiidu was sitting. Then the young man walked slowly past, in order that
he might look at him more closely, and as he did so the old man smiled,
and held out his hand.

“What have you done with your pipes?” asked he; and then in a moment
Tiidu knew him. Taking his arm he drew him into a quiet place and told
him all that had happened since they had last met. The old man shook
his head as he listened, and when Tiidu had finished his tale, he said:
“A fool you are, and a fool you will always be! Was there ever such a
piece of folly as to exchange your pipes for a scullion’s ladle? You
could have made as much by the pipes in a day as your wages would have
come to in half a year. Go home and fetch your pipes, and play them
here, and you will soon see if I have spoken the truth.”

Tiidu did not like this advice—he was afraid that the people would
laugh at him; and, besides, it was long since he had touched his
pipes—but the old man persisted, and at last Tiidu did as he was told.

“Sit down on the bank by me,” said the old man, when he came back, “and
begin to play, and in a little while the people will flock round you.”
Tiidu obeyed, at first without much heart; but somehow the tone of the
pipes was sweeter than he had remembered, and as he played, the crowd
ceased to walk and chatter, and stood still and silent round him. When
he had played for some time he took off his hat and passed it round,
and dollars, and small silver coins, and even gold pieces, came
tumbling in. Tiidu played a couple more tunes by way of thanks, then
turned to go home, hearing on all sides murmurs of “What a wonderful
piper! Come back, we pray you, next Sunday to give us another treat.”

“What did I tell you?” said the old man, as they passed through the
garden gate. “Was it not pleasanter to play for a couple of hours on
the pipes than to be stirring sauces all day long? For the second time
I have shown you the path to follow; try to learn wisdom, and take the
bull by the horns, lest your luck should slip from you! I can be your
guide no longer, therefore listen to what I say, and obey me. Go every
Sunday afternoon to those gardens; and sit under the lime tree and play
to the people, and bring a felt hat with a deep crown, and lay it on
the ground at your feet, so that everyone can throw some money into it.
If you are invited to play at a feast, accept willingly, but beware of
asking a fixed price; say you will take whatever they may feel inclined
to give. You will get far more money in the end. Perhaps, some day, our
paths may cross, and then I shall see how far you have followed my
advice. Till then, farewell”; and the old man went his way.

As before, his words came true, though Tiidu could not at once do his
bidding, as he had first to fulfil his appointed time of service.
Meanwhile he ordered some fine clothes, in which he played every Sunday
in the gardens, and when he counted his gains in the evening they were
always more than on the Sunday before. At length he was free to do as
he liked, and he had more invitations to play than he could manage to
accept, and at night, when the citizens used to go and drink in the
inn, the landlord always begged Tiidu to come and play to them. Thus he
grew so rich that very soon he had his silver pipes covered with gold,
so that they glistened in the light of the sun or the fire. In all
Kungla there was no prouder man than Tiidu.

In a few years he had saved such a large sum of money that he was
considered a rich man even in Kungla, where everybody was rich. And
then he had leisure to remember that he had once had a home, and a
family, and that he should like to see them both again, and show them
how well he could play. This time he would not need to hide in the
ship’s hold, but could hire the best cabin if he wished to, or even
have a vessel all to himself. So he packed all his treasures in large
chests, and sent them on board the first ship that was sailing to his
native land, and followed them with a light heart. The wind at starting
was fair, but it soon freshened, and in the night rose to a gale. For
two days they ran before it, and hoped that by keeping well out to sea
they might be able to weather the storm, when, suddenly, the ship
struck on a rock, and began to fill. Orders were given to lower the
boats, and Tiidu with three sailors got into one of them, but before
they could push away from the ship a huge wave overturned it, and all
four were flung into the water. Luckily for Tiidu an oar was floating
near him, and with its help he was able to keep on the surface of the
water; and when the sun rose, and the mist cleared away, he saw that he
was not far from shore. By hard swimming, for the sea still ran high,
he managed to reach it, and pulled himself out of the water, more dead
than alive. Then he flung himself down on the ground and fell fast
asleep.

When he awoke he got up to explore the island, and see if there were
any men upon it; but though he found streams and fruit trees in
abundance, there was no trace either of man or beast. Then, tired with
his wanderings he sat down and began to think.

For perhaps the first time in his life his thoughts did not instantly
turn to money. It was not on his lost treasures that his mind dwelt,
but on his conduct to his parents: his laziness and disobedience as a
boy; his forgetfulness of them as a man. “If wild animals were to come
and tear me to pieces,” he said to himself bitterly, “it would be only
what I deserve! My gains are all at the bottom of the sea—well! lightly
won, lightly lost—but it is odd that I feel I should not care for that
if only my pipes were left me.” Then he rose and walked a little
further, till he saw a tree with great red apples shining amidst the
leaves, and he pulled some down, and ate them greedily. After that he
stretched himself out on the soft moss and went to sleep.

In the morning he ran to the nearest stream to wash himself, but to his
horror, when he caught sight of his face, he saw his nose had grown the
colour of an apple, and reached nearly to his waist. He started back
thinking he was dreaming, and put up his hand; but, alas! the dreadful
thing was true. “Oh, why does not some wild beast devour me?” he cried
to himself; “never, never, can I go again amongst my fellow-men! If
only the sea had swallowed me up, how much happier it had been for me!”
And he hid his head in his hands and wept. His grief was so violent,
that it exhausted him, and growing hungry he looked about for something
to eat. Just above him was a bough of ripe, brown nuts, end he picked
them and ate a handful. To his surprise, as he was eating them, he felt
his nose grow shorter and shorter, and after a while he ventured to
feel it with his hand, and even to look in the stream again! Yes, there
was no mistake, it was as short as before, or perhaps a little shorter.
In his joy at this discovery Tiidu did a very bold thing. He took one
of the apples out of his pocket, and cautiously bit a piece out of it.
In an instant his nose was as long as his chin, and in a deadly fear
lest it should stretch further, he hastily swallowed a nut, and awaited
the result with terror. Supposing that the shrinking of his nose had
only been an accident before! Supposing that that nut and no other was
able to cause its shrinking! In that case he had, by his own folly, in
not letting well alone, ruined his life completely. But, no! he had
guessed rightly, for in no more time than his nose had taken to grow
long did it take to return to its proper size. “This may make my
fortune,” he said joyfully to himself; and he gathered some of the
apples, which he put into one pocket, and a good supply of nuts which
he put into the other. Next day he wove a basket out of some rushes, so
that if he ever left the island he might be able to carry his treasures
about.

That night he dreamed that his friend the old man appeared to him and
said: “Because you did not mourn for your lost treasure, but only for
your pipes, I will give you a new set to replace them.” And, behold! in
the morning when he got up a set of pipes was lying in the basket. With
what joy did he seize them and begin one of his favourite tunes; and as
he played hope sprang up in his heart, and he looked out to sea, to try
to detect the sign of a sail. Yes! there it was, making straight for
the island; and Tiidu, holding his pipes in his hand, dashed down to
the shore.

The sailors knew the island to be uninhabited, and were much surprised
to see a man standing on the beach, waving his arms in welcome to them.
A boat was put off, and two sailors rowed to the shore to discover how
he came there, and if he wished to be taken away. Tiidu told them the
story of his shipwreck, and the captain promised that he should come on
board, and sail with them back to Kungla; and thankful indeed was Tiidu
to accept the offer, and to show his gratitude by playing on his pipes
whenever he was asked to do so.

They had a quick voyage, and it was not long before Tiidu found himself
again in the streets of the capital of Kungla, playing as he went
along. The people had heard no music like his since he went away, and
they crowded round him, and in their joy gave him whatever money they
had in their pockets. His first care was to buy himself some new
clothes, which he sadly needed, taking care, however, that they should
be made after a foreign fashion. When they were ready, he set out one
day with a small basket of his famous apples, and went up to the
palace. He did not have to wait long before one of the royal servants
passed by and bought all the apples, begging as he did so that the
merchant should return and bring some more. This Tiidu promised, and
hastened away as if he had a mad bull behind him, so afraid was he that
the man should begin to eat an apple at once.

It is needless to say that for some days he took no more apples back to
the palace, but kept well away on the other side of the town, wearing
other clothes, and disguised by a long black beard, so that even his
own mother would not have known him.

The morning after his visit to the castle the whole city was in an
uproar about the dreadful misfortune that had happened to the Royal
Family, for not only the king but his wife and children, had eaten of
the stranger’s apples, and all, so said the rumour, were very ill. The
most famous doctors and the greatest magicians were hastily summoned to
the palace, but they shook their heads and came away again; never had
they met with such a disease in all the course of their experience.
By-and-bye a story went round the town, started no one knew how, that
the malady was in some way connected with the nose; and men rubbed
their own anxiously, to be sure that nothing catching was in the air.

Matters had been in this state for more than a week when it reached the
ears of the king that a man was living in an inn on the other side of
the town who declared himself able to cure all manner of diseases.
Instantly the royal carriage was commanded to drive with all speed and
bring back this magician, offering him riches untold if he could
restore their noses to their former length. Tiidu had expected this
summons, and had sat up all night changing his appearance, and so well
had he succeeded that not a trace remained either of the piper or of
the apple seller. He stepped into the carriage, and was driven post
haste to the king, who was feverishly counting every moment, for both
his nose and the queen’s were by this time more than a yard long, and
they did not know where they would stop.

Now Tiidu thought it would not look well to cure the royal family by
giving them the raw nuts; he felt that it might arouse suspicion. So he
had carefully pounded them into a powder, and divided the powder up
into small doses, which were to be put on the tongue and swallowed at
once. He gave one of these to the king and another to the queen, and
told them that before taking them they were to get into bed in a dark
room and not to move for some hours, after which they might be sure
that they would come out cured.

The king’s joy was so great at this news that he would gladly have
given Tiidu half of his kingdom; but the piper was no longer so greedy
of money as he once was, before he had been shipwrecked on the island.
If he could get enough to buy a small estate and live comfortably on it
for the rest of his life, that was all he now cared for. However, the
king ordered his treasure to pay him three times as much as he asked,
and with this Tiidu went down to the harbour and engaged a small ship
to carry him back to his native country. The wind was fair, and in ten
days the coast, which he had almost forgotten, stood clear before him.
In a few hours he was standing in his old home, where his father, three
sisters, and two brothers gave him a hearty welcome. His mother and his
other brothers had died some years before.

When the meeting was over, he began to make inquiries about a small
estate that was for sale near the town, and after he had bought it the
next thing was to find a wife to share it with him. This did not take
long either; and people who were at the wedding feast declared that the
best part of the whole day was the hour when Tiidu played to them on
the pipes before they bade each other farewell and returned to their
homes.

[From Esthnische Mährchen.]




Paperarelloo


Once upon a time there lived a king and a queen who had one son. The
king loved the boy very much, but the queen, who was a wicked woman,
hated the sight of him; and this was the more unlucky for, when he was
twelve years old, his father died, and he was left alone in the world.

Now the queen was very angry because the people, who knew how bad she
was, seated her son on the throne instead of herself, and she never
rested till she had formed a plan to get him out of the way.
Fortunately, however, the young king was wise and prudent, and knew her
too well to trust her.

One day, when his mourning was over, he gave orders that everything
should be made ready for a grand hunt. The queen pretended to be
greatly delighted that he was going to amuse himself once more, and
declared that she would accompany him. “No, mother, I cannot let you
come,” he answered; “the ground is rough, and you are not strong.” But
he might as well have spoken to the winds: when the horn was sounded at
daybreak the queen was there with the rest.

All that day they rode, for game was plentiful, but towards evening the
mother and son found themselves alone in a part of the country that was
strange to them. They wandered on for some time, without knowing where
they were going, till they met with a man whom they begged to give them
shelter. “Come with me,” said the man gladly, for he was an ogre, and
fed on human flesh; and the king and his mother went with him, and he
led them to his house. When they got there they found to what a
dreadful place they had come, and, falling on their knees, they offered
him great sums of money, if he would only spare their lives. The ogre’s
heart was moved at the sight of the queen’s beauty, and he promised
that he would do her no harm; but he stabbed the boy at once, and
binding his body on a horse, turned him loose in the forest.

The ogre had happened to choose a horse which he had bought only the
day before, and he did not know it was a magician, or he would not have
been so foolish as to fix upon it on this occasion. The horse no sooner
had been driven off with the prince’s body on its back than it galloped
straight to the home of the fairies, and knocked at the door with its
hoof. The fairies heard the knock, but were afraid to open till they
had peeped from an upper window to see that it was no giant or ogre who
could do them harm. “Oh, look, sister!” cried the first to reach the
window, “it is a horse that has knocked, and on its back there is bound
a dead boy, the most beautiful boy in all the world!” Then the fairies
ran to open the door, and let in the horse and unbound the ropes which
fastened the young king on its back. And they gathered round to admire
his beauty, and whispered one to the other: “We will make him alive
again, and will keep him for our brother.” And so they did, and for
many years they all lived together as brothers and sisters.

By-and-by the boy grew into a man, as boys will, and then the oldest of
the fairies said to her sisters: “Now I will marry him, and he shall be
really your brother.” So the young king married the fairy, and they
lived happily together in the castle; but though he loved his wife he
still longed to see the world.

At length this longing grew so strong on him that he could bear it no
more; and, calling the fairies together, he said to them: “Dear wife
and sisters, I must leave you for a time, and go out and see the world.
But I shall think of you often, and one day I shall come back to you.”

The fairies wept and begged him to stay, but he would not listen, and
at last the eldest, who was his wife, said to him: “If you really will
abandon us, take this lock of my hair with you; you will find it useful
in time of need.” So she cut off a long curl, and handed it to him.

The prince mounted his horse, and rode on all day without stopping
once. Towards evening he found himself in a desert, and, look where he
would, there was no such thing as a house or a man to be seen. “What am
I to do now?” he thought. “If I go to sleep here wild beasts will come
and eat me! Yet both I and my horse are worn out, and can go no
further.” Then suddenly he remembered the fairy’s gift, and taking out
the curl he said to it: “I want a castle here, and servants, and
dinner, and everything to make me comfortable tonight; and besides
that, I must have a stable and fodder for my horse.” And in a moment
the castle was before him just as he had wished.

In this way he travelled through many countries, till at last he came
to a land that was ruled over by a great king. Leaving his horse
outside the walls, he clad himself in the dress of a poor man, and went
up to the palace. The queen, who was looking out of the window, saw him
approaching, and filled with pity sent a servant to ask who he was and
what he wanted. “I am a stranger here,” answered the young king, “and
very poor. I have come to beg for some work.” “We have everybody we
want,” said the queen, when the servant told her the young man’s reply.
“We have a gate-keeper, and a hall porter, and servants of all sorts in
the palace; the only person we have not got is a goose-boy. Tell him
that he can be our goose-boy if he likes.” The youth answered that he
was quite content to be goose-boy; and that was how he got his nickname
of Paperarello. And in order that no one should guess that he was any
better than a goose-boy should be, he rubbed his face and his rags over
with mud, and made himself altogether such a disgusting object that
every one crossed over to the other side of the road when he was seen
coming.

“Do go and wash yourself, Paperarello!” said the queen sometimes, for
he did his work so well that she took an interest in him. “Oh, I should
not feel comfortable if I was clean, your Majesty,” answered he, and
went whistling after his geese.

It happened one day that, owing to some accident to the great flour
mills which supplied the city, there was no bread to be had, and the
king’s army had to do without. When the king heard of it, he sent for
the cook, and told him that by the next morning he must have all the
bread that the oven, heated seven times over, could bake. “But, your
Majesty, it is not possible,” cried the poor man in despair. “The mills
have only just begun working, and the flour will not be ground till
evening, and how can I heat the oven seven times in one night?” “That
is your affair,” answered the King, who, when he took anything into his
head, would listen to nothing. “If you succeed in baking the bread you
shall have my daughter to wife, but if you fail your head will pay for
it.”

Now Paperarello, who was passing through the hall where the king was
giving his orders, heard these words, and said: “Your Majesty, have no
fears; I will bake your bread.” “Very well,” answered the king; “but if
you fail, you will pay for it with your head!” and signed that both
should leave his presence.

The cook was still trembling with the thought of what he had escaped,
but to his surprise Paperarello did not seem disturbed at all, and when
night came he went to sleep as usual. “Paperarello,” cried the other
servants, when they saw him quietly taking off his clothes, “you cannot
go to bed; you will need every moment of the night for your work.
Remember, the king is not to be played with!”

“I really must have some sleep first,” replied Paperarello, stretching
himself and yawning; and he flung himself on his bed, and was fast
asleep in a moment. In an hour’s time, the servants came and shook him
by the shoulder. “Paperarello, are you mad?” said they. “Get up, or you
will lose your head.” “Oh, do let me sleep a little more, answered he.
And this was all he would say, though the servants returned to wake him
many times in the night.

At last the dawn broke, and the servants rushed to his room, crying:
“Paperarello! Paperarello! get up, the king is coming. You have baked
no bread, and of a surety he will have your head.”

“Oh, don’t scream so,” replied Paperarello, jumping out of bed as he
spoke; and taking the lock of hair in his hand, he went into the
kitchen. And, behold! there stood the bread piled high—four, five, six
ovens full, and the seventh still waiting to be taken out of the oven.
The servants stood and stared in surprise, and the king said: “Well
done, Paperarello, you have won my daughter.” And he thought to
himself: “This fellow must really be a magician.”

But when the princess heard what was in store for her she wept
bitterly, and declared that never, never would she marry that dirty
Paperarello! However, the king paid no heed to her tears and prayers,
and before many days were over the wedding was celebrated with great
splendour, though the bridegroom had not taken the trouble to wash
himself, and was as dirty as before.

When night came he went as usual to sleep among his geese, and the
princess went to the king and said: “Father, I entreat you to have that
horrible Paperarello put to death.” “No, no!” replied her father, “he
is a great magician, and before I put him to death, I must first find
out the secret of his power, and then—we shall see.”

Soon after this a war broke out, and everybody about the palace was
very busy polishing up armour and sharpening swords, for the king and
his sons were to ride at the head of the army. Then Paperarello left
his geese, and came and told the king that he wished to go to fight
also. The king gave him leave, and told him that he might go to the
stable and take any horse he liked from the stables. So Paperarello
examined the horses carefully, but instead of picking out one of the
splendid well-groomed creatures, whose skin shone like satin, he chose
a poor lame thing, put a saddle on it, and rode after the other
men-at-arms who were attending the king. In a short time he stopped,
and said to them: “My horse can go no further; you must go on to the
war without me, and I will stay here, and make some little clay
soldiers, and will play at a battle.” The men laughed at him for being
so childish, and rode on after their master.

Scarcely were they out of sight than Paperarello took out his curl, and
wished himself the best armour, the sharpest sword, and the swiftest
horse in the world, and the next minute was riding as fast as he could
to the field of battle. The fight had already begun, and the enemy was
getting the best of it, when Paperarello rode up, and in a moment the
fortunes of the day had changed. Right and left this strange knight
laid about him, and his sword pierced the stoutest breast-plate, and
the strongest shield. He was indeed “a host in himself,” and his foes
fled before him thinking he was only the first of a troop of such
warriors, whom no one could withstand. When the battle was over, the
king sent for him to thank him for his timely help, and to ask what
reward he should give him. “Nothing but your little finger, your
Majesty,” was his answer; and the king cut off his little finger and
gave it to Paperarello, who bowed and hid it in his surcoat. Then he
left the field, and when the soldiers rode back they found him still
sitting in the road making whole rows of little clay dolls.

The next day the king went out to fight another battle, and again
Paperarello appeared, mounted on his lame horse. As on the day before,
he halted on the road, and sat down to make his clay soldiers; then a
second time he wished himself armour, sword, and a horse, all sharper
and better than those he had previously had, and galloped after the
rest. He was only just in time: the enemy had almost beaten the king’s
army back, and men whispered to each other that if the strange knight
did not soon come to their aid, they would be all dead men. Suddenly
someone cried: “Hold on a little longer, I see him in the distance; and
his armour shines brighter, and his horse runs swifter, than
yesterday.” Then they took fresh heart and fought desperately on till
the knight came up, and threw himself into the thick of the battle. As
before, the enemy gave way before him, and in a few minutes the victory
remained with the king.

The first thing that the victor did was to send for the knight to thank
him for his timely help, and to ask what gift he could bestow on him in
token of gratitude. “Your Majesty’s ear,” answered the knight; and as
the king could not go back from his word, he cut it off and gave it to
him. Paperarello bowed, fastened the ear inside his surcoat and rode
away. In the evening, when they all returned from the battle, there he
was, sitting in the road, making clay dolls.

On the third day the same thing happened, and this time he asked for
the king’s nose as the reward of his aid. Now, to lose one’s nose, is
worse even than losing one’s ear or one’s finger, and the king
hesitated as to whether he should comply. However, he had always prided
himself on being an honourable man, so he cut off his nose, and handed
it to Paperarello. Paperarello bowed, put the nose in his surcoat, and
rode away. In the evening, when the king returned from the battle, he
found Paperarello sitting in the road making clay dolls. And
Paperarello got up and said to him: “Do you know who I am? I am your
dirty goose-boy, yet you have given me your finger, and your ear, and
your nose.”

That night, when the king sat at dinner, Paperarello came in, and
laying down the ear, and the nose, and the finger on the table, turned
and said to the nobles and courtiers who were waiting on the king: “I
am the invincible knight, who rode three times to your help, and I also
am a king’s son, and no goose-boy as you all think.” And he went away
and washed himself, and dressed himself in fine clothes and entered the
hall again, looking so handsome that the proud princess fell in love
with him on the spot. But Paperarello took no notice of her, and said
to the king: “It was kind of you to offer me your daughter in marriage,
and for that I thank you; but I have a wife at home whom I love better,
and it is to her that I am going. But as a token of farewell, I wish
that your ear, and nose, and finger may be restored to their proper
places.” So saying, he bade them all goodbye, and went back to his home
and his fairy bride, with whom he lived happily till the end of his
life.

[From Sicilianisohen Mährchen.]




The Gifts Of The Magician


Once upon a time there was an old man who lived in a little hut in the
middle of a forest. His wife was dead, and he had only one son, whom he
loved dearly. Near their hut was a group of birch trees, in which some
black-game had made their nests, and the youth had often begged his
father’s permission to shoot the birds, but the old man always strictly
forbade him to do anything of the kind.

One day, however, when the father had gone to a little distance to
collect some sticks for the fire, the boy fetched his bow, and shot at
a bird that was just flying towards its nest. But he had not taken
proper aim, and the bird was only wounded, and fluttered along the
ground. The boy ran to catch it, but though he ran very fast, and the
bird seemed to flutter along very slowly, he never could quite come up
with it; it was always just a little in advance. But so absorbed was he
in the chase that he did not notice for some time that he was now deep
in the forest, in a place where he had never been before. Then he felt
it would be foolish to go any further, and he turned to find his way
home.

He thought it would be easy enough to follow the path along which he
had come, but somehow it was always branching off in unexpected
directions. He looked about for a house where he might stop and ask his
way, but there was not a sign of one anywhere, and he was afraid to
stand still, for it was cold, and there were many stories of wolves
being seen in that part of the forest. Night fell, and he was beginning
to start at every sound, when suddenly a magician came running towards
him, with a pack of wolves snapping at his heels. Then all the boy’s
courage returned to him. He took his bow, and aiming an arrow at the
largest wolf, shot him through the heart, and a few more arrows soon
put the rest to flight. The magician was full of gratitude to his
deliverer, and promised him a reward for his help if the youth would go
back with him to his house.

“Indeed there is nothing that would be more welcome to me than a
night’s lodging,” answered the boy; “I have been wandering all day in
the forest, and did not know how to get home again.

“Come with me, you must be hungry as well as tired,” said the magician,
and led the way to his house, where the guest flung himself on a bed,
and went fast asleep. But his host returned to the forest to get some
food, for the larder was empty.

While he was absent the housekeeper went to the boy’s room and tried to
wake him. She stamped on the floor, and shook him and called to him,
telling him that he was in great danger, and must take flight at once.
But nothing would rouse him, and if he did ever open his eyes he shut
them again directly.

Soon after, the magician came back from the forest, and told the
housekeeper to bring them something to eat. The meal was quickly ready,
and the magician called to the boy to come down and eat it, but he
could not be wakened, and they had to sit down to supper without him.
By-and-by the magician went out into the wood again for some more
hunting, and on his return he tried afresh to waken the youth. But
finding it quite impossible, he went back for the third time to the
forest.

While he was absent the boy woke up and dressed himself. Then he came
downstairs and began to talk to the housekeeper. The girl had heard how
he had saved her master’s life, so she said nothing more about his
running away, but instead told him that if the magician offered him the
choice of a reward, he was to ask for the horse which stood in the
third stall of the stable.

By-and-by the old man came back and they all sat down to dinner. When
they had finished the magician said: “Now, my son, tell me what you
will have as the reward of your courage?”

“Give me the horse that stands in the third stall of your stable,”
answered the youth. “For I have a long way to go before I get home, and
my feet will not carry me so far.”

“Ah! my son,” replied the magician, “it is the best horse in my stable
that you want! Will not anything else please you as well?”

But the youth declared that it was the horse, and the horse only, that
he desired, and in the end the old man gave way. And besides the horse,
the magician gave him a zither, a fiddle, and a flute, saying: “If you
are in danger, touch the zither; and if no one comes to your aid, then
play on the fiddle; but if that brings no help, blow on the flute.”

The youth thanked the magician, and fastening his treasures about him
mounted the horse and rode off. He had already gone some miles when, to
his great surprise, the horse spoke, and said: “It is no use your
returning home just now, your father will only beat you. Let us visit a
few towns first, and something lucky will be sure to happen to us.”

This advice pleased the boy, for he felt himself almost a man by this
time, and thought it was high time he saw the world. When they entered
the capital of the country everyone stopped to admire the beauty of the
horse. Even the king heard of it, and came to see the splendid creature
with his own eyes. Indeed, he wanted directly to buy it, and told the
youth he would give any price he liked. The young man hesitated for a
moment, but before he could speak, the horse contrived to whisper to
him:

“Do not sell me, but ask the king to take me to his stable, and feed me
there; then his other horses will become just as beautiful as I.”

The king was delighted when he was told what the horse had said, and
took the animal at once to the stables, and placed it in his own
particular stall. Sure enough, the horse had scarcely eaten a mouthful
of corn out of the manger, when the rest of the horses seemed to have
undergone a transformation. Some of them were old favourites which the
king had ridden in many wars, and they bore the signs of age and of
service. But now they arched their heads, and pawed the ground with
their slender legs as they had been wont to do in days long gone by.
The king’s heart beat with delight, but the old groom who had had the
care of them stood crossly by, and eyed the owner of this wonderful
creature with hate and envy. Not a day passed without his bringing some
story against the youth to his master, but the king understood all
about the matter and paid no attention. At last the groom declared that
the young man had boasted that he could find the king’s war horse which
had strayed into the forest several years ago, and had not been heard
of since. Now the king had never ceased to mourn for his horse, so this
time he listened to the tale which the groom had invented, and sent for
the youth. “Find me my horse in three days,” said he, “or it will be
the worse for you.”

The youth was thunderstruck at this command, but he only bowed, and
went off at once to the stable.

“Do not worry yourself,” answered his own horse. “Ask the king to give
you a hundred oxen, and to let them be killed and cut into small
pieces. Then we will start on our journey, and ride till we reach a
certain river. There a horse will come up to you, but take no notice of
him. Soon another will appear, and this also you must leave alone, but
when the third horse shows itself, throw my bridle over it.”

Everything happened just as the horse had said, and the third horse was
safely bridled. Then the other horse spoke again: “The magician’s raven
will try to eat us as we ride away, but throw it some of the oxen’s
flesh, and then I will gallop like the wind, and carry you safe out of
the dragon’s clutches.”

So the young man did as he was told, and brought the horse back to the
king.

The old stableman was very jealous, when he heard of it, and wondered
what he could do to injure the youth in the eyes of his royal master.
At last he hit upon a plan, and told the king that the young man had
boasted that he could bring home the king’s wife, who had vanished many
months before, without leaving a trace behind her. Then the king bade
the young man come into his presence, and desired him to fetch the
queen home again, as he had boasted he could do. And if he failed, his
head would pay the penalty.

The poor youth’s heart stood still as he listened. Find the queen? But
how was he to do that, when nobody in the palace had been able to do
so! Slowly he walked to the stable, and laying his head on his horse’s
shoulder, he said: “The king has ordered me to bring his wife home
again, and how can I do that when she disappeared so long ago, and no
one can tell me anything about her?”

“Cheer up!” answered the horse, “we will manage to find her. You have
only got to ride me back to the same river that we went to yesterday,
and I will plunge into it and take my proper shape again. For I am the
king’s wife, who was turned into a horse by the magician from whom you
saved me.”

Joyfully the young man sprang into the saddle and rode away to the
banks of the river. Then he threw himself off, and waited while the
horse plunged in. The moment it dipped its head into the water its
black skin vanished, and the most beautiful woman in the world was
floating on the water. She came smiling towards the youth, and held out
her hand, and he took it and led her back to the palace. Great was the
king’s surprise and happiness when he beheld his lost wife stand before
him, and in gratitude to her rescuer he loaded him with gifts.

You would have thought that after this the poor youth would have been
left in peace; but no, his enemy the stableman hated him as much as
ever, and laid a new plot for his undoing. This time he presented
himself before the king and told him that the youth was so puffed up
with what he had done that he had declared he would seize the king’s
throne for himself.

At this news the king waxed so furious that he ordered a gallows to be
erected at once, and the young man to be hanged without a trial. He was
not even allowed to speak in his own defence, but on the very steps of
the gallows he sent a message to the king and begged, as a last favour,
that he might play a tune on his zither. Leave was given him, and
taking the instrument from under his cloak he touched the strings.
Scarcely had the first notes sounded than the hangman and his helper
began to dance, and the louder grew the music the higher they capered,
till at last they cried for mercy. But the youth paid no heed, and the
tunes rang out more merrily than before, and by the time the sun set
they both sank on the ground exhausted, and declared that the hanging
must be put off till to-morrow.

The story of the zither soon spread through the town, and on the
following morning the king and his whole court and a large crowd of
people were gathered at the foot of the gallows to see the youth
hanged. Once more he asked a favour—permission to play on his fiddle,
and this the king was graciously pleased to grant. But with the first
notes, the leg of every man in the crowd was lifted high, and they
danced to the sound of the music the whole day till darkness fell, and
there was no light to hang the musician by.

The third day came, and the youth asked leave to play on his flute.
“No, no,” said the king, “you made me dance all day yesterday, and if I
do it again it will certainly be my death. You shall play no more
tunes. Quick! the rope round his neck.”

At these words the young man looked so sorrowful that the courtiers
said to the king: “He is very young to die. Let him play a tune if it
will make him happy.” So, very unwillingly, the king gave him leave;
but first he had himself bound to a big fir tree, for fear that he
should be made to dance.

When he was made fast, the young man began to blow softly on his flute,
and bound though he was, the king’s body moved to the sound, up and
down the fir tree till his clothes were in tatters, and the skin nearly
rubbed off his back. But the youth had no pity, and went on blowing,
till suddenly the old magician appeared and asked: “What danger are you
in, my son, that you have sent for me?”

“They want to hang me,” answered the young man; “the gallows are all
ready and the hangman is only waiting for me to stop playing.”

“Oh, I will put that right,” said the magician; and taking the gallows,
he tore it up and flung it into the air, and no one knows where it came
down. “Who has ordered you to be hanged?” asked he.

The young man pointed to the king, who was still bound to the fir; and
without wasting words the magician took hold of the tree also, and with
a mighty heave both fir and man went spinning through the air, and
vanished in the clouds after the gallows.

Then the youth was declared to be free, and the people elected him for
their king; and the stable helper drowned himself from envy, for, after
all, if it had not been for him the young man would have remained poor
all the days of his life.

[From Finnische Mährchen.]




The Strong Prince


Once upon a time there lived a king who was so fond of wine that he
could not go to sleep unless he knew he had a great flaskful tied to
his bed-post. All day long he drank till he was too stupid to attend to
his business, and everything in the kingdom went to rack and ruin. But
one day an accident happened to him, and he was struck on the head by a
falling bough, so that he fell from his horse and lay dead upon the
ground.

His wife and son mourned his loss bitterly, for, in spite of his
faults, he had always been kind to them. So they abandoned the crown
and forsook their country, not knowing or caring where they went.

At length they wandered into a forest, and being very tired, sat down
under a tree to eat some bread that they had brought with them. When
they had finished the queen said: “My son, I am thirsty; fetch me some
water.”

The prince got up at once and went to a brook which he heard gurgling
near at hand. He stooped and filled his hat with the water, which he
brought to his mother; then he turned and followed the stream up to its
source in a rock, where it bubbled out clear and fresh and cold. He
knelt down to take a draught from the deep pool below the rock, when he
saw the reflection of a sword hanging from the branch of a tree over
his head. The young man drew back with a start; but in a moment he
climbed the tree, cutting the rope which held the sword, and carried
the weapon to his mother.

The queen was greatly surprised at the sight of anything so splendid in
such a lonely place, and took it in her hands to examine it closely. It
was of curious workmanship, wrought with gold, and on its handle was
written: “The man who can buckle on this sword will become stronger
than other men.” The queen’s heart swelled with joy as she read these
words, and she bade her son lose no time in testing their truth. So he
fastened it round his waist, and instantly a glow of strength seemed to
run through his veins. He took hold of a thick oak tree and rooted it
up as easily as if it had been a weed.

This discovery put new life into the queen and her son, and they
continued their walk through the forest. But night was drawing on, and
the darkness grew so thick that it seemed as if it could be cut with a
knife. They did not want to sleep in the wood, for they were afraid of
wolves and other wild beasts, so they groped their way along, hand in
hand, till the prince tripped over something which lay across the path.
He could not see what it was, but stooped down and tried to lift it.
The thing was very heavy, and he thought his back would break under the
strain. At last with a great heave he moved it out of the road, and as
it fell he knew it was a huge rock. Behind the rock was a cave which it
was quite clear was the home of some robbers, though not one of the
band was there.

Hastily putting out the fire which burned brightly at the back, and
bidding his mother come in and keep very still, the prince began to
pace up and down, listening for the return of the robbers. But he was
very sleepy, and in spite of all his efforts he felt he could not keep
awake much longer, when he heard the sound of the robbers returning,
shouting and singing as they marched along. Soon the singing ceased,
and straining his ears he heard them discussing anxiously what had
become of their cave, and why they could not see the fire as usual.
“This must be the place,” said a voice, which the prince took to be
that of the captain. “Yes, I feel the ditch before the entrance.
Someone forgot to pile up the fire before we left and it has burnt
itself out! But it is all right. Let every man jump across, and as he
does so cry out ‘Hop! I am here.’ I will go last. Now begin.”

The man who stood nearest jumped across, but he had no time to give the
call which the captain had ordered, for with one swift, silent stroke
of the prince’s sword, his head rolled into a corner. Then the young
man cried instead, “Hop! I am here.”

The second man, hearing the signal, leapt the ditch in confidence, and
was met by the same fate, and in a few minutes eleven of the robbers
lay dead, and there remained only the captain.

Now the captain had wound round his neck the shawl of his lost wife,
and the stroke of the prince’s sword fell harmless. Being very cunning,
however, he made no resistance, and rolled over as if he were as dead
as the other men. Still, the prince was no fool, and wondered if indeed
he was as dead as he seemed to be; but the captain lay so stiff and
stark, that at last he was taken in.

The prince next dragged the headless bodies into a chamber in the cave,
and locked the door. Then he and his mother ransacked the place for
some food, and when they had eaten it they lay down and slept in peace.

With the dawn they were both awake again, and found that, instead of
the cave which they had come to the night before, they now were in a
splendid castle, full of beautiful rooms. The prince went round all
these and carefully locked them up, bidding his mother take care of the
keys while he was hunting.

Unfortunately, the queen, like all women, could not bear to think that
there was anything which she did not know. So the moment that her son
had turned his back, she opened the doors of all the rooms, and peeped
in, till she came to the one where the robbers lay. But if the sight of
the blood on the ground turned her faint, the sight of the robber
captain walking up and down was a greater shock still. She quickly
turned the key in the lock, and ran back to the chamber she had slept
in.

Soon after her son came in, bringing with him a large bear, which he
had killed for supper. As there was enough food to last them for many
days, the prince did not hunt the next morning, but, instead, began to
explore the castle. He found that a secret way led from it into the
forest; and following the path, he reached another castle larger and
more splendid than the one belonging to the robbers. He knocked at the
door with his fist, and said that he wanted to enter; but the giant, to
whom the castle belonged, only answered: “I know who you are. I have
nothing to do with robbers.”

“I am no robber,” answered the prince. “I am the son of a king, and I
have killed all the band. If you do not open to me at once I will break
in the door, and your head shall go to join the others.”

He waited a little, but the door remained shut as tightly as before.
Then he just put his shoulder to it, and immediately the wood began to
crack. When the giant found that it was no use keeping it shut, he
opened it, saying: “I see you are a brave youth. Let there be peace
between us.”

And the prince was glad to make peace, for he had caught a glimpse of
the giant’s beautiful daughter, and from that day he often sought the
giant’s house.

Now the queen led a dull life all alone in the castle, and to amuse
herself she paid visits to the robber captain, who flattered her till
at last she agreed to marry him. But as she was much afraid of her son,
she told the robber that the next time the prince went to bathe in the
river, he was to steal the sword from its place above the bed, for
without it the young man would have no power to punish him for his
boldness.

The robber captain thought this good counsel, and the next morning,
when the young man went to bathe, he unhooked the sword from its nail
and buckled it round his waist. On his return to the castle, the prince
found the robber waiting for him on the steps, waving the sword above
his head, and knowing that some horrible fate was in store, fell on his
knees and begged for mercy. But he might as well have tried to squeeze
blood out of a stone. The robber, indeed, granted him his life, but
took out both his eyes, which he thrust into the prince’s hand, saying
brutally:

“Here, you had better keep them! You may find them useful!”

Weeping, the blind youth felt his way to the giant’s house, and told
him all the story.

The giant was full of pity for the poor young man, but inquired
anxiously what he had done with the eyes. The prince drew them out of
his pocket, and silently handed them to the giant, who washed them
well, and then put them back in the prince’s head. For three days he
lay in utter darkness; then the light began to come back, till soon he
saw as well as ever.

But though he could not rejoice enough over the recovery of his eyes,
he bewailed bitterly the loss of his sword, and that it should have
fallen to the lot of his bitter enemy.

“Never mind, my friend,” said the giant, “I will get it back for you.”
And he sent for the monkey who was his head servant.

“Tell the fox and the squirrel that they are to go with you, and fetch
me back the prince’s sword,” ordered he.

The three servants set out at once, one seated on the back of the
others, the ape, who disliked walking, being generally on top. Directly
they came to the window of the robber captain’s room, the monkey sprang
from the backs of the fox and the squirrel, and climbed in. The room
was empty, and the sword hanging from a nail. He took it down, and
buckling it round his waist, as he had seen the prince do, swung
himself down again, and mounting on the backs of his two companions,
hastened to his master. The giant bade him give the sword to the
prince, who girded himself with it, and returned with all speed to the
castle.

“Come out, you rascal! come out, you villain!” cried he, “and answer to
me for the wrong you have done. I will show you who is the master in
this house!”

The noise he made brought the robber into the room. He glanced up to
where the sword usually hung, but it was gone; and instinctively he
looked at the prince’s hand, where he saw it gleaming brightly. In his
turn he fell on his knees to beg for mercy, but it was too late. As he
had done to the prince, so the prince did to him, and, blinded, he was
thrust forth, and fell down a deep hole, where he is to this day. His
mother the prince sent back to her father, and never would see her
again. After this he returned to the giant, and said to him:

“My friend, add one more kindness to those you have already heaped on
me. Give me your daughter as my wife.”

So they were married, and the wedding feast was so splendid that there
was not a kingdom in the world that did not hear of it. And the prince
never went back to his father’s throne, but lived peacefully with his
wife in the forest, where, if they are not dead, they are living still.

[From Ungarische Volksmarchen.]




The Treasure Seeker


Once, long ago, in a little town that lay in the midst of high hills
and wild forests, a party of shepherds sat one night in the kitchen of
the inn talking over old times, and telling of the strange things that
had befallen them in their youth.

Presently up spoke the silver-haired Father Martin.

“Comrades,” said he, “you have had wonderful adventures; but I will
tell you something still more astonishing that happened to myself. When
I was a young lad I had no home and no one to care for me, and I
wandered from village to village all over the country with my knapsack
on my back; but as soon as I was old enough I took service with a
shepherd in the mountains, and helped him for three years. One autumn
evening as we drove the flock homeward ten sheep were missing, and the
master bade me go and seek them in the forest. I took my dog with me,
but he could find no trace of them, though we searched among the bushes
till night fell; and then, as I did not know the country and could not
find my way home in the dark, I decided to sleep under a tree. At
midnight my dog became uneasy, and began to whine and creep close to me
with his tail between his legs; by this I knew that something was
wrong, and, looking about, I saw in the bright moonlight a figure
standing beside me. It seemed to be a man with shaggy hair, and a long
beard which hung down to his knees. He had a garland upon his head, and
a girdle of oak-leaves about his body, and carried an uprooted fir-tree
in his right hand. I shook like an aspen leaf at the sight, and my
spirit quaked for fear. The strange being beckoned with his hand that I
should follow him; but as I did not stir from the spot he spoke in a
hoarse, grating voice: ‘Take courage, faint-hearted shepherd. I am the
Treasure Seeker of the mountain. If you will come with me you shall dig
up much gold.’

“Though I was still deadly cold with terror I plucked up my courage and
said: ‘Get away from me, evil spirit; I do not desire your treasures.’

“At this the spectre grinned in my face and cried mockingly:

“‘Simpleton! Do you scorn your good fortune? Well, then, remain a
ragamuffin all your days.’

“He turned as if to go away from me, then came back again and said:
‘Bethink yourself, bethink yourself, rogue. I will fill your knapsack—I
will fill your pouch.’

“‘Away from me, monster,’ I answered, ‘I will have nothing to do with
you.’

“When the apparition saw that I gave no heed to him he ceased to urge
me, saying only: ‘Some day you will rue this,’ and looked at me sadly.
Then he cried: ‘Listen to what I say, and lay it well to heart, it may
be of use to you when you come to your senses. A vast treasure of gold
and precious stones lies in safety deep under the earth. At twilight
and at high noon it is hidden, but at midnight it may be dug up. For
seven hundred years have I watched over it, but now my time has come;
it is common property, let him find it who can. So I thought to give it
into your hand, having a kindness for you because you feed your flock
upon my mountain.’

“Thereupon the spectre told me exactly where the treasure lay, and how
to find it. It might be only yesterday so well do I remember every word
he spoke.

“‘Go towards the little mountains,’ said he, ‘and ask there for the
Black King’s Valley, and when you come to a tiny brook follow the
stream till you reach the stone bridge beside the saw-mill. Do not
cross the bridge, but keep to your right along the bank till a high
rock stands before you. A bow-shot from that you will discover a little
hollow like a grave. When you find this hollow dig it out; but it will
be hard work, for the earth has been pressed down into it with care.
Still, work away till you find solid rock on all sides of you, and soon
you will come to a square slab of stone; force it out of the wall, and
you will stand at the entrance of the treasure house. Into this opening
you must crawl, holding a lamp in your mouth. Keep your hands free lest
you knock your nose against a stone, for the way is steep and the
stones sharp. If it bruises your knees never mind; you are on the road
to fortune. Do not rest till you reach a wide stairway, down which you
will go till you come out into a spacious hall, in which there are
three doors; two of them stand open, the third is fastened with locks
and bolts of iron. Do not go through the door to the right lest you
disturb the bones of the lords of the treasure. Neither must you go
through the door to the left, it leads to the snake’s chamber, where
adders and serpents lodge; but open the fast-closed door by means of
the well-known spring-root, which you must on no account forget to take
with you, or all your trouble will be for naught, for no crowbar or
mortal tools will help you. If you want to procure the root ask a
wood-seller; it is a common thing for hunters to need, and it is not
hard to find. If the door bursts open suddenly with great crackings and
groanings do not be afraid, the noise is caused by the power of the
magic root, and you will not be hurt. Now trim your lamp that it may
not fail you, for you will be nearly blinded by the flash and glitter
of the gold and precious stones on the walls and pillars of the vault;
but beware how you stretch out a hand towards the jewels! In the midst
of the cavern stands a copper chest, in that you will find gold and
silver, enough and to spare, and you may help yourself to your heart’s
content. If you take as much as you can carry you will have sufficient
to last your lifetime, and you may return three times; but woe betide
you if you venture to come a fourth time. You would have your trouble
for your pains, and would be punished for your greediness by falling
down the stone steps and breaking you

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