SLOVAK, MORAVIAN, AND BOHEMIAN GYPSY STORIES
NO. 41.—THE THREE GIRLS
Somewhere there was a king who had three daughters, princesses. Those
three sisters used to go to meet the devils, and the father knew not
where they went to. But there was one called Jankos; Halenka aided him.
The king asks Jankos, ‘Don’t you know where my daughters go? Not one
single night are they at home, and they are always wearing out new
shoes.’
Then Jankos lay down in front of the door, and kept watch to see where
they went to. But Halenka told him everything; she aided him. ‘They
will, when they come, fling fire on you, and prick you with needles.’
Halenka told him he must not stir, but be like a corpse.
They came, those devils, for the girls, and straightway the girls set
out with them to hell. On, on, they walked, but he stuck close to them.
As the girls went to hell he followed close behind, but so that they
knew it not. He went through the diamond forest; when he came there he
cut himself a diamond twig from the forest. He follows; straightway
they, those girls, cried, ‘Jankos is coming behind us.’ For when he
broke it, he made a great noise. The girls heard it. ‘Jankos is coming
behind us.’
But the devils said, ‘What does it matter if he is?’
Next they went through the forest of glass, and once more he cut off a
twig; now he had two tokens. Then they went through the golden forest,
and once more he cut off a twig; so now he had three. Then Halenka
tells him, ‘I shall change you into a fly, and when you come into hell,
creep under the bed, hide yourself there, and see what will happen.’
Then the devils danced with the girls, who tore their shoes all to
pieces, for they danced upon blades of knives, and so they must tear
them. Then they flung the shoes under the bed, where Jankos took them,
so that he might show them at home. When the devils had danced with the
girls, each of them threw his girl upon the bed and lay with her; thus
did they with two of them, but the third would not yield herself. Then
Jankos, having got all he wanted, returned home and lay down again in
front of the door, ‘that the girls may know I am lying here.’
The girls returned after midnight, and went to bed in their room as if
nothing had happened. But Jankos knew well what had happened, and
straightway he went to their father, the king, and showed him the
tokens. ‘I know where your daughters go—to hell. The three girls must
own they were there, in the fire. Isn’t it true? weren’t you there? And
if you believe me not, I will show you the tokens. See, here is one
token from the diamond forest; then here is one from the forest of
glass; a third from the golden forest; and the fourth is the shoes
which you tore dancing with the devils. And two of you lay with the
devils, but that third one not, she would not yield herself.’
Straightway the king seized his rifle, and straightway he shot them
dead. Then he seized a knife, and slit up their bellies, and
straightway the devils were scattered out from their bellies. Then he
buried them in the church, and laid each coffin in front of the altar,
and every night a soldier stood guard over them. But every night those
two used to rend the soldier in pieces; more than a hundred were rent
thus. At last it fell to a new soldier, a recruit, to stand guard; when
he went upon guard he was weeping. But a little old man came to him—it
was my God; and Jankos was there with the soldier. And the old man
tells him, ‘When the twelfth hour strikes and they come out of their
coffins, straightway jump in and lie down in the coffin, and don’t
leave the coffin, for if you do they will rend you. So don’t you go
out, even if they beg you and fling fire on you, for they will beg you
hard to come out.’
Thus then till morning he lay in the coffin. In the morning those two
were alive again, and both kneeling in front of the altar. They were
lovelier than ever. Then the soldier took one to wife, and Jankos took
the other. Then when they came home with them their father was very
glad. Then Jankos and the soldier got married, and if they are not dead
they are still alive.
A confused, imperfect story, but plainly identical with Grimm’s No.
133, ‘The Shoes that were danced to Pieces’ (ii. 179, 430), and
with ‘The Slippers of the Twelve Princesses’ (Roumanian Fairy
Tales, by E. B. M., p. 1). The Gypsy finale is reminiscent of many
vampire stories. ‘The story-teller,’ says Dr. von Sowa, ‘explained
Halenka as an alias of Jankos; that this is not so, but that
Halenka must stand for some higher being, a fairy, is shown by the
story.’
NO. 42.—THE DRAGON
There was a great city. In that city was great mourning; every day it
was hung with black cloth and with red. There was in a cave a great
dragon; it had four-and-twenty heads. Every day must he eat a woman—ah!
God! what can be done in such a case? It is clean impossible every day
to find food for that dragon. There was but one girl left. Her father
was a very wealthy man; he was a king; over all kings he was lord. And
there came a certain wanderer, came into the city, and asked what’s new
there.
They said to him, ‘Here is very great mourning.’
‘Why so? any one dead?’
‘Every day we must feed the dragon with twenty-four heads. If we failed
to feed him, he would crush all our city underneath his feet.’
‘I’ll help you out of that. It is just twelve o’clock; I will go there
alone with my dog.’
He had such a big dog: whatever a man just thought of, that dog
immediately knew. It would have striven with the very devil. When the
wanderer came to the cave, he kept crying, ‘Dragon, come out here with
your blind mother. Bread and men you have eaten, but will eat no more.
I’ll see if you are any good.’
The dragon called him into his cave, and the wanderer said to him, ‘Now
give me whatever I ask for to eat and to drink, and swear to me always
to give that city peace, and never to eat men, no, not one. For if ever
I hear of your doing so I shall come back and cut your throat.’
‘My good man, fear not; I swear to you. For I see you’re a proper man.
If you weren’t, I should long since have eaten up you and your dog.
Then tell me what you want of me.’
‘I only want you to bring me the finest wine to drink, and meat such as
no man has ever eaten. If you don’t, you will see I shall destroy
everything that is yours, shall shut you up here, and you will never
come out of this cave.’
‘Good, I will fetch a basket of meat, and forthwith cook it for you.’
He went and brought him such meat as no man ever had eaten. When he had
eaten and drunk his fill, then the dragon must swear to him never to
eat anybody, but sooner to die of hunger.
‘Good, so let us leave it.’
He went back, that man, who thus had delivered the city, so that it had
peace. Then all the gentlemen asked him what he wanted for doing so
well. The dragon from that hour never ate any one. And if they are not
dead they are still alive.
This story belongs to the ‘Valiant Little Tailor’ group (No. 21).
The maiden-tribute is a familiar feature; the Tobit-like dog seems
superfluous, but cf. Hahn’s No. 22, i. 170, ii. 217. English-Gypsy
women wear black and red in mourning.
NO. 43.—THE PRINCESS AND THE FORESTER’S SON
Somewhere or other there lived a forester. He ill-used his wife and his
children, and often got drunk. Then the mother said, ‘My children, the
father is always beating us, so we’ll get our things together and leave
him. We will wander out into the world, whither our eyes lead us.’
They took their things, and followed the road through a great forest.
They journeyed two days and two nights without reaching any place, so
the eldest son said to his mother, ‘Mother, dear, night has come on us,
let us sleep here.’
‘My children,’ said the mother, ‘pluck moss, make a resting-place, and
we will lie down here to sleep.’
The elder son said to his brother, ‘Go for wood.’
They made a fire, and seated themselves by it.
Then said the elder son to his brother, ‘Now, you must keep watch, for
there are wild beasts about, so that we be not devoured. Do you sleep
first; then you’ll get up, I lie down to sleep, then you will watch
again.’
So the younger brother lay down near his mother to sleep; the elder
kept watch with his gun. Then he thought within himself, and said,
‘Great God! wherever are we in these great forests? Surely we soon must
perish.’ He climbed up a high tree, and looked all round, till a light
flashed in his eyes. When he saw the light, he took his hat from his
head, and let it drop. [97] Then he climbed down, and looked to see if
his mother was all right. From the spot where his hat lay he walked
straight forward for a good distance, a whole half hour. Then he
observed a fire. Who were there but four-and-twenty robbers, cooking
and drinking? He went through the wood, keeping out of their sight, and
loaded his gun; and, just as one of them was taking a drink of wine, he
shot the jug right from his lips, so that only the handle was left in
his hand. And his gun was so constructed that it made no report.
Then the robber said to his comrade, ‘Comrade, why won’t you let me
alone, but knock the jug out of my mouth?’
‘You fool, I never touched you.’
He took a pull out of another jug, and the lad loaded again. He sat on
a tree, and again shot the jug—shot it away from his mouth, so that the
handle remained in his hand.
Then the first robber said, ‘Will you leave me alone, else I’ll pay you
out with this knife?’
But his comrade stepped up to him, looking just like a fool; at last he
said, ‘My good fellow, I am not touching you. See, it is twice that has
happened; maybe it is some one in the forest. Take your gun, and let’s
go and look if there is not some one there.’
They went and they hunted, searched every tree, and found him, the
forester’s son, sitting on a tree at the very top. They said to him,
‘You earth-devil, come down. If you won’t, we’ll shoot at you till you
fall down from the tree.’
But he would not come. Again they ordered him. What was the poor fellow
to do? He had to come. When he was down, they each seized him by an
arm, and he thought to himself, ‘Things look bad with me. I shall never
see my mother and brother again. They’ll either kill me, or tie me up
to a tree.’
They brought him to the fire and asked him, ‘What are you?—are you a
craftsman?’
‘I am one of your trade.’
‘If you are of our trade, eat, drink, and smoke as much as your heart
desires.’
When he had eaten and drunk, they said, ‘Since you are such a clever
chap, and such a good shot, there is a castle with a princess in it,
whom we went after, but could not come at her anyhow, this princess.
Maybe, as you are so smart, there’s a big dog yonder that made us run,
but as you are such a good shot, and your gun makes no report, you’ll
kill this dog, and then we’ll make you our captain.’
Then they broke up camp, took something to eat and to drink, and came
to the castle. When they reached the castle the dog made a great noise.
They lifted him up, the forester’s son; he aimed his gun, and, as the
dog sprang at him, he fired and hit him. The dog made ten more paces,
and fell to the earth. As he fell, the lad said to the robbers,
‘Comrades, the dog is dead.’
‘Brave fellow,’ said they, ‘now you shall be our captain, for killing
the dog; but one thing more you must do. We will make a hole for you in
the wall. When we have done that, then—you are so slender—you will
creep through the hole.’ [98]
They made the hole, and he crept through it. Then the robbers said to
him, ‘Here you, you have to go up a flight of steps, and at the fourth
flight you will come to a door. There is one door, two doors, three
doors.’
So through each door he passed; then he passed through the third, there
were a quantity of swords. He saw they were very fine swords, and took
one of them. Then he went to the fourth, opened it slowly; it did not
stop him, for the keys were there. Through the keyhole he saw a bed.
Then he opened it, and went in. There he saw a princess lying, quite
naked, but [99] covered with a cloth of gold. At her feet stood a
table, on which lay a pair of golden scissors. There were golden
clasps, and there were two rings, and her name was engraved inside one
of them. And when he sees her sleeping thus, he thought, ‘O great God,
what if I were to lie down beside her! Do, my God, as thou wilt.’ So he
took the scissors, and cut off half the cloth of gold, and lay down
beside her; and she could not awake. Then he arose, and took to himself
the half of the coverlet and one of the rings and one of her slippers,
and went out, taking the sword with him, and shutting the door. As he
passed through the fourth door he said to himself, ‘I must open it
carefully, so as not to waken her mother and father.’ He got out
safely, then he went through the courtyard to the robbers. When he
reached the hole he said to them, ‘My dear men, I know where she is.
Come, we’ll soon have the princess, but you must creep through the hole
one after the other.’ Then he drew his sword, and, as one came through
after the other, he seized him by the head, cut off his head, and cast
him aside. When he had done so to the twenty-fourth, he cast away the
sword, and returned by the way that he had come to his mother, where
they had slept. (He had thought never again to see his mother and his
brother.) When he came to his mother, he said, ‘Mother, how do you find
yourself? you must be sleepy.’
His mother asked him, ‘My dear son, how have you managed to do with so
little sleep?’
His younger brother said, ‘Why didn’t you wake me up?’
‘You were so sleepy, I let you sleep.’
Then they made a fire, ate and drank, and wandered on again through the
forest. They arrived in a town, and sought employment. The mother said
to her eldest son, ‘My son, we will stay at least a year here.’ She
fortunately got a place at a big house as cook, and the two lads went
as servants to an innkeeper. When they had been a year there, the
mother said to her two sons, ‘Just see how well off we were at home,
and here we have to work, and I an old body. You are young folk, and
can stick to it, but I am old, and can’t stand it any longer. The
father ill-used us; still, let us return home, if the Lord God gives us
health and strength to do so.’
So they made ready; the landlord paid them their wages; and they set
out. They went by the very way that he had gone by to the castle where
he killed the twenty-four robbers.
But how had they got on there since the year when he did that to her?
The princess had borne a child, but she knew not who was the father.
She had a tavern built not far from the castle, and said to her mother,
‘Mother dear, see what has befallen me, and how I now am. But I know
not whom the child is by. You have let me have the tavern built.
Whoever comes there I will entertain gratis, and ask him what he has
learned in the world—whether he has any story to tell me, or whether he
has had any strange experiences. Perhaps the man will turn up by whom I
had the child.’
As luck would have it, the two brothers came through the village where
the tavern was. There was a large sign-board, on which was written,
‘Every man may eat and drink to his heart’s desire, and smoke, only he
must relate his experiences that he has gone through in the world.’ The
elder lad said to his brother, ‘Brother dear, where are we? I don’t
myself know.’ But right well he knew whom the tavern belonged to. They
halted. Then he looked at the notice, and said to his mother, ‘See,
mother dear, see what that is. See there is written that the victuals
and drink are gratis.’
‘Let us go in, my son; we are very hungry, anyhow. Sure, we’ll find
something to tell her, if only she’ll give us to eat and to drink.’
They went into the tavern. Straightway the hostess greeted them, and
said, ‘Good-day, where do you come from?’
‘We come from a town out yonder. We have been working there; now we
want to return home, where my husband is.’
She said, ‘Good. What might you drink, what will you eat? I will give
you just what you want.’
‘Ah, my God!’ said she, ‘kind lady, if you would be so good as to give
us something. We know you are a kind lady.’
So she said to her women-servants, ‘Bring wine here, bring beer here,
bring food here, and for the two men bring something to smoke.’
When they brought it, they ate and drank.
‘Now,’ said the princess—the seeming hostess, but they knew not that
she was a princess; only the elder brother knew it—‘oh! if only you
would tell me something. Come, you, old wife, what have you seen in
your time?’
‘Why, my good lady, I have gone through plenty. When I was at home, my
man drank much, ran through my money. When he got drunk, he’d come
home, scold and knock me about, smash everything that came to hand, and
as for his children, he couldn’t bear the sight of them. He scolded and
knocked them about till they didn’t know where they were. At last I
said to my children, “My children, since I can’t get on with my man,
and he uses us so badly, let us take our few things, and go off into
the world.”’
The hostess listened, brought the old wife a mug of beer, and gave it
her. When she had drunk, the hostess said, ‘Speak on.’
‘Well, we set off and journeyed through the great forests, where we
must go on and on, two whole days, without ever lighting on town or
village. Never a peasant was to be seen, and night,’ she said, ‘came
upon us, when we could go no further, and I was so weak that I could
not take another step. There, poor soul, I had to bide, lying in the
great forest under a great tree. It rained, and we crouched close under
so as not to get wet. Forthwith I gathered wood, made a big fire,
plucked moss, and made a resting-place for us. It was dark, and my sons
said, “We must mind and not be eaten by wild beasts.” And my elder son
said to his brother, “I will think what must be done. You, too, have a
couple of guns; if anything attacks us, you will shoot.” But he said to
his elder brother, “Do you, my brother, sleep first, and when you have
had your sleep out, then you will watch again.” [100] As they all slept
under that great tree, he thought to himself, “I will sling my gun
round my neck and climb a tree.” He climbed a tree, reached its top,
for he wondered whether he might not see something—a village or a town
or a light. As it was, he did see a light. He took the hat from his
head, and threw it in the direction of the light.’
Then she said, ‘Ah! hostess, believe him not. Mark you, that is not
true,’ said his mother.
But she went and brought them beer, and said, ‘Tell on.’
And he said, ‘I climbed down the tree to look where my hat was.’
‘Ah! believe him not, hostess, believe him not; mark you, that is not
true.’
‘Nay, let him go on with his story. What was there?’
‘Twenty-four robbers. There was a bright light that dazzled my eyes.
Not far from them was a tree.’ [At this point the story-teller forgot
that the elder son is the narrator, so resumed the third person,
repeating his former words almost verbatim till he came to the passage
where the robbers send the lad into the castle.]
Then said the old mother to the hostess, ‘Believe him not, believe him
not, for that is not true which he tells you.’
‘Let him proceed. What have you then done?’ the hostess asked him.
‘I—have done nothing.’
‘You must have done something.’
‘Well then, I have lain with you. I took away the ring; I took half the
cloth of gold; a slipper I took from you—that I carried off. And I took
me a sword, and went out, shut the door behind me. Then I went to where
the robbers were, called to them to step through the hole one after
another. As they came through the hole, I cut off each one’s head, and
flung him aside.’
Then the hostess saw it was true. ‘Then you will be my man.’
And he drew the things out, and showed them to her. And they
straightway embraced, and kissed one another. And she went into the
little room, fetched the boy. ‘See, that is your child; I am your
wife.’
Forthwith she bids them harness two horses to the carriage; they drove
to the castle. When they reached it, she said to her father, ‘Father
dear, see, I have soon found my husband.’
Forthwith they made a feast, invited everybody. Forthwith the banns
were proclaimed, and they were married. The floor there was made of
paper, and I came away here.
Identical with Grimm’s No. 111, ‘The Skilful Huntsman’ (ii. 102),
but in some points more closely resembling the variants on p. 412.
There are also some striking analogies to our Welsh-Gypsy story of
‘An Old King and his Three Sons in England,’ No. 55.
NO. 44.—THE THREE DRAGONS
A gentleman had three daughters. They went one day to a pond to bathe.
There came a dragon, and carried them off. He hurried with them to a
rocky cave. There they remained twelve years, without their father
seeing them again or knowing where they were. There was a sly-boots
called Bruntslikos. He went to the girls’ father, and told him he would
do his best to find his daughters. The father promised him one of them
to wife, if he could find them. He took the road, and stayed seven
years away; then he demanded a horse of the girls’ father. He mounted
it, and rode a whole year through the forest. At last he came to a
tavern; two fellows there asked him where he was going to. He told them
that he was going in search of three maidens. They offered to go with
him. ‘Good,’ he thought, ‘three will make merrier company.’
As they went through the forest, the horse stamped his foot against the
entrance to the dragon’s cave, and pawed against it. Then Bruntslikos
knew that those he was seeking were there. It was a great cavity in the
rock. He left the two comrades on the brink above, and made them lower
him by a rope to fetch up one of the maidens. He said he must fetch her
at any cost. When he came down, she sat alone in the house; the dragon
has gone to hunt hares.
When he came to her, she asked, ‘How comest thou here, my beloved? Here
must thou lose thy life.’
‘I have no fear,’ he answered.
‘Never a bird comes flying here,’ she said, ‘but thou hast come.’ [101]
‘I will see, though,’ she thought, ‘what sort of a hero he is,’ and
bade him brandish a sword; but he could not so much as raise it from
the ground. But there was wine there. She made him drink thereof;
straightway he felt himself stronger. And she bade him now lift the
sword; he fell to so cutting and thrusting with it in the air that he
now no more dreaded the dragon.
‘Now I am strong,’ he said, ‘I will soon help thee out of here.’
‘God grant thou may,’ she said, ‘then will I be thy bride.’
She gave him a golden ring, which she cut in half; the one half she
gave to him, kept the other herself.
Then came the dragon home. When he still was fourteen miles off, he
flung a hammer there, weighing nearly fifteen hundredweight. When he
came, he said to his wife, ‘I smell human flesh.’
She said, ‘Dear husband, but how could that be? How could it get here?
Hither comes never a bird. How could human flesh get here?’
‘But I feel,’ he said, ‘that a man’s here. Don’t talk nonsense.’ And he
came nearer, and called, ‘Brother-in-law!’
But Bruntslikos was hidden beneath a trough. After the dragon had
called him thrice, he sprang out, faced him, and cried, ‘What wilt thou
of me? I fear thee not.’
The dragon answered, ‘What need to tell me thou fearest me not? I will
soon put thy strength to the test.’
Leaden dumplings were served up for the dragon’s dinner, and he invited
Bruntslikos to partake. ‘I don’t care for such dumplings,’ said
Bruntslikos, ‘but give me wine to drink, and I’m your man.’
When they had drunk their fill, the dragon challenged Bruntslikos to
wrestle with him; straightway he faced the dragon. The dragon drove him
into the earth to the waist, then drew him out again. In the second
bout Bruntslikos drove the dragon into the earth to the neck, then
grasped the sword and began to cut off his heads (he had twelve).
Bruntslikos struck them all off; only the middle one he could not
sever. Then said the maiden, ‘One smashing blow on it, and he will die
at once.’ So he killed him, and straightway the dragon was turned to
pitch. But he took all the tongues out of his heads, and put them in
his pocket. Then he collected all the money that was there, put his
bride in a basket and himself as well. And the two comrades had been
waiting for him above, and, when he called, they drew him up with his
bride. But when he was up with her, the two fellows began to quarrel
over the maiden; she was so fair, they wanted her for wife.
But he said, ‘There still remain two more maidens; of them you can take
your choice.’
‘I,’ she said, ‘will never desert Bruntslikos; he shall be my husband.
We have plighted ourselves to all eternity, for he has saved my life.’
Then they went to seek the other dragon [102] in the cavern. He had
fifteen heads, and was three times as strong as the first. The maiden
whom this dragon had carried off showed Bruntslikos a sword, twice as
heavy as the first. He could just move it, but not lift it clear off
the earth. But she gave him wine to drink, and then he was straightway
stronger. She too had greeted Bruntslikos, when he came, with the
words, ‘How comest thou here, my beloved? Here must thou lose thy life,
for my husband will kill thee.’
But he said, ‘To fetch thee am I come. Thy sister dear have I already
fetched, and thee too I must help out of here.’
‘God grant thou may,’ she said, ‘then would I be thy bride.’
‘I have one already,’ he said, ‘thy sister; but all the more readily
will I help thee out.’
Then came the dragon. He was still fifty miles away when he flung a
hammer there weighing fifty hundredweight. When he was come, he said,
‘I smell human flesh here.’
‘But, dear husband, how couldst thou smell human flesh? Never even a
bird comes hither, and yet thou wilt be scenting a mortal.’
‘Don’t talk nonsense,’ said he; and cried, ‘Brother-in-law! Why comest
thou not out? What is it thou wilt of me? I fear thee not.’
Thrice he thus called him, but he would not answer. But at last he said
to him, ‘I fear thee not. I must slay thee.’
‘Come, if thou art so strong that thou wilt kill me,’ answered the
dragon, ‘then let us wrestle.’
They wrestled, and the dragon drove him into the earth to the waist.
They settled that the dragon should draw him out again. He seized the
dragon, and drove him into the earth to the neck. Then he grasped the
sword, and cut off his fifteen heads; only the middle one held so firm
that he could not sever it.
But the princess told him, ‘Just one blow right on the head, and he
will die at once.’
When he had killed him, he plucked out all his tongues, and then had
himself drawn up and the maiden. So now there were two sisters up, and
now they went for the third. The third dragon had twenty-four heads.
When Bruntslikos had served him like the other two, he helped the third
maiden also out. But when the three maidens were out, his two comrades
threw him into a well, for they wished not to give him the credit of
that achievement, but rather themselves to vaunt at home that they had
slain the dragons.
But Bruntslikos had covenanted with his bride that if he did not come
within eight years, she should take a husband. So the eighth year came:
she had chosen another man, and was celebrating the marriage. Then came
Bruntslikos dressed like a beggar, so she knew him not, and felt no
shame for her conduct. But he asked her for wine. When she gave him
such, he threw as he drank that half of the ring into the glass, then
offered it her. When she drank, her lips came against it. When she
noticed it, she threw her half of the ring into the glass, and it
straightway united with the other. Forthwith she fell to kissing him,
for she recognised he was her lover. The marriage she straightway broke
off, and plighted herself to him. When now he flung the dragons’
tongues on the table, the gentlemen cried, ‘Hurrah! That’s it! that’s
the real thing!’ at the sight of the tongues.
So, if they are not dead, they are living together.
This is a sort of compound of the Roumanian-Gypsy story of ‘The
Three Princesses and the Unclean Spirit’ (No. 10), and of the
Bukowina-Gypsy story, ‘Mare’s Son’ (No. 20). The ring episode
occurs in ‘Made over to the Devil’ (No. 34). For the hiding under
the trough and the thrice-repeated challenge, cf. Wratislaw’s
Croatian story of ‘The Daughter of the King of the Vilas’ (p. 278),
and for the leaden dumplings his Hungarian-Slovenish story of ‘The
Three Lemons’ (p. 65). Cf. also notes to ‘An Old King and his Three
Sons’ (No. 55).