ran a race with his daughter and won the victory, should be her
husband, but whosoever lost it, must lose his head.
Then the man presented himself and said, “I will, however, let my
servant run for me.”
The King replied, “Then his life also must be staked, so that his head
and thine are both set on the victory.”
When that was settled and made secure, the man buckled the other leg on
the runner, and said to him, “Now be nimble, and help us to win.”
It was fixed that the one who was the first to bring some water from a
far distant well, was to be the victor. The runner received a pitcher,
and the King’s Daughter one too, and they began to run at the same
time. But in an instant, when the King’s Daughter had got a very little
way, the people who were looking on could see no more of the runner, it
was just as if the wind had whistled by.
In a short time he reached the well, filled his pitcher with water,
and turned back. Half-way home, however, he was overcome with fatigue,
and set his pitcher down, lay down himself, and fell asleep. He had,
however, made a pillow of a horse’s skull which was lying on the
ground, in order that he might lie uncomfortably, and soon wake up
again.
In the meantime, the King’s Daughter, who could also run very
well--quite as well as any ordinary mortal can--had reached the well,
and was hurrying back with her pitcher full of water, and when she saw
the runner lying there asleep, she was glad and said, “My enemy is
delivered over into my hands,” emptied his pitcher, and ran on.
And now all would have been lost if by good luck the huntsman had not
been standing at the top of the castle, and had not seen everything
with his sharp eyes. Then said he, “The King’s Daughter shall still not
prevail against us.”
He loaded his gun, and shot so cleverly, that he shot the horse’s
skull away from under the runner’s head without hurting him. Then the
runner awoke, leapt up, and saw that his pitcher was empty, and that
the King’s Daughter was already far in advance. He did not lose heart,
however, but ran back to the well with his pitcher, again drew some
water, and was still at home again, ten minutes before the King’s
Daughter. “Behold!” said he, “I have not bestirred myself till now. It
did not deserve to be called running before.”
But it pained the King, and still more his daughter, that she should
be carried off by a common disbanded soldier like that. So they took
counsel with each other how to get rid of him and his companions.
Then said the King to her, “I have thought of a way. Don’t be afraid,
they shall not come back again.” And he said to them, “You shall now
make merry together, and eat and drink.”
He conducted them to a room which had a floor of iron, and the doors
also were of iron, and the windows were guarded with iron bars. There
was a table in the room covered with delicious food, and the King said
to them, “Go in, and enjoy yourselves.”
And when they were inside, he ordered the doors to be shut and bolted.
Then he sent for the cook, and commanded him to make a fire under the
room until the iron became red-hot. This the cook did, and the six who
were sitting at table began to feel quite warm, and they thought the
heat was caused by the food. But as it became still greater, and they
wanted to get out, and found that the doors and windows were bolted,
they became aware that the King had an evil intention, and wanted to
suffocate them.
“He shall not succeed, however,” said the one with the cap. “I will
cause a frost to come, before which the fire shall be ashamed, and
creep away.”
Then he put his cap on straight, and immediately there came such a
frost that all heat disappeared, and the food on the dishes began to
freeze.
When an hour or two had passed by, and the King believed that they had
perished in the heat, he had the doors opened to behold them himself.
But when the doors were opened, all six were standing there, alive
and well, and said that they should very much like to get out to warm
themselves, for the very food was fast frozen to the dishes with the
cold.
Then, full of anger, the King went down to the cook, scolded him and
asked why he had not done what he had been ordered to do. But the
cook replied, “There is heat enough there, just look yourself.” Then
the King saw that a fierce fire was burning under the iron room, and
perceived that there was no getting the better of the six in this way.
Again the King considered how to get rid of his unpleasant guests, and
caused their chief to be brought and said, “If you will take gold and
renounce my daughter, you shall have as much as you wish.”
“Oh, yes, Lord King,” he answered, “give me as much as my servant can
carry, and I will not ask for your daughter.”
On this the King was satisfied, and the other continued, “In fourteen
days, I will come and fetch it.”
Thereupon he summoned together all the tailors in the whole kingdom,
and they were to sit for fourteen days and sew a sack. And when it was
ready, the strong one who could tear up trees had to take it on his
back, and go with it to the King.
Then said the King, “Who can that strong fellow be who is carrying a
bundle of linen on his back that is as big as a house?” and he was
alarmed and said, “What a lot of gold he can carry away!”
Then he commanded a ton of gold to be brought. It took sixteen of his
strongest men to carry it, but the strong one snatched it up in one
hand, put it in his sack, and said, “Why don’t you bring more at the
same time?--that hardly covers the bottom!”
Then, little by little, the King caused all his treasure to be brought
thither, and the strong one pushed it into the sack, and still the sack
was not half full with it. “Bring more,” cried he, “these few crumbs
don’t fill it.”
Then seven thousand carts with gold had to be gathered together in the
whole kingdom, and the strong one thrust them and the oxen harnessed to
them into his sack. “I will examine it no longer,” said he, “but will
just take what comes, so long as the sack is but full.”
When all that was inside, there was still room for a great deal
more. Then he said, “I will just make an end of the thing. People do
sometimes tie up a sack even when it is not full.” So he took it on his
back, and went away with his comrades.
When the King now saw how one single man was carrying away the entire
wealth of the country, he became enraged, and bade his horsemen mount
and pursue the six, and ordered them to take the sack away from the
strong one. Two regiments speedily overtook the six, and called out,
“You are prisoners. Put down the sack with the gold, or you will all be
cut to pieces!”
“What say you?” cried the blower, “that we are prisoners! Rather than
that should happen, all of you shall dance about in the air.” And he
closed one nostril, and with the other blew on the two regiments. Then
they were driven away from each other, and carried into the blue sky
over all the mountains--one here, the other there.
One sergeant cried for mercy. He had nine wounds, and was a brave
fellow who did not deserve ill-treatment. The blower stopped a little
so that he came down without injury, and then the blower said to him,
“Now go home to your King, and tell him he had better send some more
horsemen, and I will blow them all into the air.”
When the King was informed of this he said, “Let the rascals go. They
have the best of it.”
Then the six conveyed the riches home, divided it amongst them, and
lived in content until their death.
[Illustration]
THE GOOSE-GIRL
There was once upon a time, an old Queen, whose husband had been dead
for many years, and she had a beautiful daughter.
When the Princess grew up, she was betrothed to a Prince who lived very
far away. When the time came for her to be married, and she had to
journey forth into the distant kingdom, the aged Queen packed up for
her many costly vessels of silver and gold, and trinkets, also of gold
and silver, and cups and jewels, in short, everything which appertained
to a royal dowry, for she loved her child with all her heart.
She likewise sent her maid-in-waiting, who was to ride with her, and
hand her over to the Bridegroom. Each had a horse for the journey, but
the horse of the King’s Daughter was called Falada, and could speak.
So when the hour of parting had come, the aged mother went into her
bedroom, took a small knife and cut her finger with it until it bled.
Then she held a white handkerchief to it, into which she let three
drops of blood fall.
She gave the handkerchief to her daughter and said, “Dear Child,
preserve this carefully. It will be of service to you on your way.”
So they took a sorrowful leave of each other. The Princess put the
piece of cloth in her bosom, mounted her horse, and then went away to
her Bridegroom.
After she had ridden for a while she felt a burning thirst, and said
to her waiting-maid, “Dismount, and take my cup which you have brought
with you, and get me some water from the stream, for I should like to
drink.”
“If you are thirsty,” said the waiting-maid, “get off your horse
yourself, and lie down and drink out of the water. I don’t choose to be
your servant.”
So in her great thirst the Princess alighted, bent down over the water
in the stream and drank, and was not allowed to drink out of the golden
cup. Then she said, “Ah, Heaven!” and the three drops of blood answered:
“_If thy Mother only knew,
’Twould surely break her heart in two!_”
But the King’s Daughter was humble, said nothing, and mounted her horse
again.
She rode some miles further, but the day was warm, the sun scorched
her, and she was thirsty once more. When they came to a stream of
water, she again cried to her waiting-maid, “Dismount, and give me some
water in my golden cup,” for she had long ago forgotten the girl’s ill
words.
But the waiting-maid said still more haughtily, “If you wish to drink,
drink as you can, I don’t choose to be your maid.”
Then in her great thirst the King’s Daughter alighted, bent over the
flowing stream, wept and said, “Ah, Heaven!” and the drops of blood
again replied:
“_If thy Mother only knew,
’Twould surely break her heart in two!_”
And as she was thus drinking and leaning right over the stream, the
handkerchief with the three drops of blood fell out of her bosom, and
floated away with the water without her observing it, so great was her
trouble. The waiting-maid, however, had seen it, and she rejoiced to
think that she had now power over the Bride, for since the Princess had
lost the drops of blood, she had become weak and powerless.
So now, when she wanted to mount her horse again, the one that was
called Falada, the waiting-maid said, “Falada is more suitable for me,
and my nag will do for you,” and the Princess had to be content with
that.
Then the waiting-maid, with many hard words, bade the Princess exchange
her royal apparel for her own shabby clothes; and at length she was
compelled to swear by the clear sky above her, that she would not say
one word of this to any one at the Royal Court. And if she had not
taken this oath she would have been killed on the spot. But Falada saw
all this, and observed it well.
The waiting-maid now mounted Falada, and the true Bride the bad horse,
and thus they traveled onward, until they entered the royal palace.
There were great rejoicings over her arrival, and the Prince sprang
forward to meet her, lifted the waiting-maid from her horse, and
thought she was his Bride. She was conducted up-stairs, but the real
Princess was left standing below.
Then the old King looked out of the window and saw her standing in
the courtyard, and how dainty and delicate and beautiful she was. He
instantly went to the royal apartment, and asked the Bride about the
girl she had with her, who was standing down below in the courtyard,
and who she was.
“I picked her up on my way for a companion. Give the girl something to
work at, that she may not stand idle.”
But the old King had no work for her, and knew of none, so he said, “I
have a little boy who tends the geese, she may help him.”
The boy was called Conrad, and the true Bride had to help him to tend
the geese.
Soon afterward the false Bride said to the young King, “Dearest
Husband, I beg you to do me a favor.”
He answered, “I will do so most willingly.”
“Then send for the butcher, and have the head of the horse on which I
rode here, cut off, for it vexed me on the way.” In reality, she was
afraid that the horse might tell how she had behaved to the King’s
Daughter.
Then she succeeded in making the King promise that it should be done,
and the faithful Falada was to die. This came to the ears of the real
Princess, and she secretly promised the butcher a piece of gold if he
would perform a small service for her. There was a great dark-looking
gateway in the town, through which, morning and evening, she had to
pass with the geese: would he be so good as to nail up Falada’s head on
it, so that she might see him again? The butcher promised to do that,
and cut off the head, and nailed it fast beneath the dark gateway.
Early in the morning, when she and Conrad drove out their flock beneath
this gateway, she said in passing:
“_Alas, Falada, hanging there!_”
Then the head answered:
“_Alas! young Queen, how ill you fare!
If this your tender Mother knew,
Her heart would surely break in two!_”
Then they went still farther out of the town, and drove their geese
into the country. And when they had come to the meadow, she sat down
and unbound her hair which was like pure gold. Conrad saw it and
delighted in its brightness, and wanted to pluck out a few hairs. Then
she said:
“_Blow, blow, thou gentle Wind, I say,
Blow Conrad’s little hat away,
And make him chase it here and there,
Until I’ve braided all my hair,
And bound it up again._”
And there came such a violent wind that it blew Conrad’s hat far away
across county, and he was forced to run after it.
When he came back she had finished combing her hair and was putting
it up again and he could not get any of it. Then Conrad was angry,
and would not speak to her. And thus they watched the geese until the
evening, and then they went home.
[Illustration: THE HEAD ANSWERED, “ALAS! YOUNG QUEEN HOW ILL YOU FARE”]
Next day when they were driving the geese out through the dark gateway,
the maiden said:
“_Alas, Falada, hanging there!_”
Falada answered:
“_Alas! young Queen, how ill you fare!
If this your tender Mother knew,
Her heart would surely break in two!_”
And she sat down again in the field and began to comb out her hair.
Conrad ran and tried to clutch it, so she said in haste:
“_Blow, blow, thou gentle Wind, I say,
Blow Conrad’s little hat away,
And make him chase it here and there,
Until I’ve braided all my hair,
And bound it up again._”
Then the wind blew, and blew his little hat off his head and far away,
and Conrad was forced to run after it. When he came back, her hair had
been put up a long time, and he could get none of it. So they looked
after their geese till evening came.
But in the evening, after they had got home, Conrad went to the old
King, and said, “I won’t tend the geese with that girl any longer!”
“Why not?” inquired the old King.
“Oh, because she vexes me the whole day long.”
Then the old King commanded him to relate what it was that she did to
him.
And Conrad said, “In the morning, when we pass beneath the dark gateway
with the flock, there is a sorry horse’s head on the wall, and she says
to it:
“‘_Alas, Falada, hanging there!_’
And the head replies:
“‘_Alas! young Queen, how ill you fare!
If this your tender Mother knew,
Her heart would surely break in two!_’”
And Conrad went on to relate what happened on the goose-pasture, and
how when there he had to chase his hat.
The old King commanded him to drive his flock out again next day, and
as soon as morning came, he placed himself behind the dark gateway, and
heard how the maiden spoke to the head of Falada. Then he went into the
country, and hid himself in the thicket in the meadow. There he soon
saw with his own eyes, the goose-girl and the goose-boy bringing their
flock, and how after a while she sat down and unplaited her hair, which
shone with radiance. And soon she said:
“_Blow, blow, thou gentle Wind, I say,
Blow Conrad’s little hat away,
And make him chase it here and there,
Until I’ve braided all my hair,
And bound it up again._”
Then came a blast of wind and carried off Conrad’s hat, so that he had
to run far away, while the maiden quietly went on combing and plaiting
her hair. All of which the King observed.
Then, quite unseen, he went away, and when the goose-girl came home
in the evening, he called her aside, and asked why she did all these
things.
“I may not tell you that, and I dare not lament my sorrows to any human
being, for I have sworn not to do so by the heaven which is above me.
If I had not done that, I should have lost my life.”
He urged her and left her no peace, but he could draw nothing from her.
Then said he, “If you will not tell me anything, tell your sorrows to
the iron stove there,” and he went away.
Then she crept into the iron stove, and began to weep and lament, and
emptied her whole heart, and said, “Here am I deserted by the whole
world, and yet I am a King’s Daughter, and a false waiting-maid has by
force brought me to such a pass, that I have been compelled to put off
my royal apparel. She has taken my place with my Bridegroom, and I have
to do the mean work of a goose-girl.
“_If my Mother only knew,
’Twould surely break her heart in two!_”
The old King was standing outside by the pipe of the stove, and was
listening to what she said, and heard it. Then he came back again,
and bade her come out of the stove. And royal garments were placed on
her, and it was marvelous how beautiful she was! The old King called
his son, and revealed to him, that he had got the false Bride who was
only a waiting-maid, but that the true one was standing there, as the
goose-girl.
The young King rejoiced with all his heart when he saw her beauty and
youth, and a great feast was made ready to which all the people and all
good friends were invited. At the head of the table sat the Bridegroom
with the King’s Daughter at one side of him, and the waiting-maid on
the other, but the waiting-maid was blinded, and did not recognize the
Princess in her dazzling array.
When they had eaten and drunk, and were merry, the old King asked the
waiting-maid as a riddle, what a person deserved who had behaved in
such and such a way to her master, and at the same time related the
whole story, and asked what sentence such a one merited?
Then the false Bride said, “She deserves no better fate than to be put
in a barrel which is studded inside with pointed nails, and two white
horses should be harnessed to it, to drag her along through one street
after another, till she is dead.”
“It is you,” said the old King, “and you have pronounced your own
sentence. Thus shall it be done unto you.”
And when the sentence had been carried out, the young King married his
true Bride, and both of them reigned over their kingdom in peace and
happiness.
[Illustration]
THE SINGING, SOARING LARK
There was once on a time, a man who was about to set out on a long
journey. At parting he asked his three daughters what he should bring
back for them.
Whereupon the eldest wished for pearls, the second wished for diamonds,
but the third said, “Dear Father, I should like a Singing, Soaring
Lark.”
The father said, “Yes, if I can get it, you shall have it,” kissed all
three, and set out.
Now, when the time had come for him to return home, he had brought
pearls and diamonds for the two eldest. But he had sought everywhere
in vain for a Singing, Soaring Lark for the youngest, and he was very
unhappy about it, for she was his favorite child.
Then his road lay through a forest, and in the midst of it was a
splendid castle. Near the castle stood a tree, and quite on the top of
the tree, he saw a Singing, Soaring Lark.
“Aha, you come just at the right moment!” he said, quite delighted, and
called to his servant to climb up and catch the little creature.
But as he approached the tree, a Lion leapt from beneath it, shook
himself, and roared till the leaves on the tree trembled. “He who tries
to steal my Singing, Soaring Lark,” he cried, “will I devour.”
Then the man said, “I did not know that the bird belonged to you. I
will make amends for the wrong I have done, and ransom myself with a
large sum of money, only spare my life.”
The Lion said, “Nothing can save you, unless you will promise to give
me for mine own what first meets you on your return home. But if you
will do that, I will grant you your life, and you shall have the bird
for your daughter, into the bargain.”
The man hesitated and said, “That might be my youngest daughter, she
loves me best, and always runs to meet me on my return home.”
The servant, however, was terrified and said, “Why should your daughter
be the very one to meet you, it might as easily be a cat, or dog?”
Then the man allowed himself to be persuaded, took the Singing, Soaring
Lark, and promised to give the Lion whatsoever should first meet him on
his return home.
When he reached home and entered his house, the first who met him was
no other than his youngest and dearest daughter, who came running up,
kissed and embraced him. When she saw that he had brought with him a
Singing, Soaring Lark, she was beside herself with joy.
The father, however, could not rejoice, but began to weep, and said,
“My dearest Child, I have bought the little bird at a great cost! In
return for it, I have been obliged to promise you to a savage Lion.
When he has you he will tear you in pieces and devour you,” and he told
her all, just as it had happened, and begged her not to go thither,
come what might.
But she consoled him and said, “Dearest Father, indeed your promise
must be fulfilled. I will go thither and soften the Lion, so that I may
return to you safely.”
Next morning, she had the road pointed out to her, took leave, and went
fearlessly out into the forest. The Lion, however, was an enchanted
Prince and was by day a Lion, and all his people were Lions with him.
But in the night, they resumed their natural human shapes.
On her arrival, she was kindly received and led into the castle. When
night came, the Lion turned into a handsome man, and their wedding
was celebrated with great magnificence. They lived happily together,
remained awake at night, and slept in the daytime.
One day, he came and said, “To-morrow there is a feast in your father’s
house, because your eldest sister is to be married, and if you are
inclined to go there, my Lions shall conduct you.”
She said, “Yes, I should very much like to see my father again,” and
went thither, accompanied by the Lions.
There was great joy when she arrived, for they had all believed that
she had been torn in pieces by the Lion, and had long ceased to live.
But she told them what a handsome husband she had, and how well off she
was. She remained with them while the wedding-feast lasted, and then
went back again to the forest.
When the second daughter was about to be married, and she was again
invited to the wedding, she said to the Lion, “This time, I will not go
alone. You must come with me.”
The Lion, however, said that it was too dangerous for him, for if a ray
from a burning candle should fall on him, he would be changed into a
Dove, and for seven years long would have to fly about with the Doves.
She said, “Ah, but do come with me, I will take great care of you and
guard you from all light.”
So they went away together, and took with them their little child as
well. She had a chamber built, so strong and thick that no ray could
pierce through it. In this he was to shut himself up when the candles
were lit for the wedding-feast. But the door was made of green wood
which warped and left a little crack which no one noticed.
The wedding was celebrated with magnificence; but when the procession
with all its candles and torches came back from church and passed by
this apartment, a ray about the breadth of a hair fell on the King’s
Son. When this ray touched him, he was transformed in an instant. And
when she came in, and looked for him, she did not see him, but a white
Dove was sitting there.
The Dove said to her, “For seven years must I fly about the world, but
at every seventh step that you take I will let fall a drop of red blood
and a white feather. These will show you the way. If you follow the
trace you can release me.”
Thereupon the Dove flew out at the door, and she followed him. At every
seventh step a red drop of blood and a little white feather fell down,
and showed her the way.