The Juniper Tree and Other Tales (11 page)

O
NCE UPON A TIME
there was a man who was about to set out on a long journey, and when he left he asked his three daughters what they would like him to bring back for them. The eldest wanted pearls, the second wanted diamonds, but the third said, “Dear father, I would like a singing, springing lark.” “Well,” said her father, “if I can get one you shall have it.” Then he kissed all three and rode away.

When it was time for him to set out for home, he had bought pearls for his eldest daughter, diamonds for his second daughter, but he had looked everywhere in vain to find a singing, springing lark for his youngest daughter, and she was the one he loved best, so he was sorry. His way led through a forest, and there was a magnificent castle in the middle of it. A tree grew close to the castle, and at the very top of the tree he saw a lark singing and springing in the air. “Ah, there you are, just in time!” he said, pleased, and he called his servant and told him to climb the tree and catch the bird. But as the servant went up to the tree, a lion came racing along, shaking his mane and roaring so fiercely that the leaves on the trees quivered. “If anyone
tries to steal my singing, springing lark, I’ll eat him alive,” cried the lion.

“I didn’t know the bird was yours,” said the man. “But if I have done wrong I’ll atone for it. Spare my life, and I will buy my freedom with heavy gold.”

“Nothing can save you,” said the lion, “unless you promise to give me the first living creature to meet you when you get home. If you will do that, however, then I’ll give you your life, and the bird for your daughter into the bargain.”

The man was reluctant to give his promise. “My youngest daughter loves me most, and she is always the one who comes running to meet me when I get home, so it could well be her.”

His servant, however, was terrified, and said, “It won’t necessarily be your daughter who runs to meet you, it could easily be a cat or a dog.” So the man let his servant persuade him, took the singing, springing lark, and promised to give the lion whatever living creature was the first to meet him when he got home.

All the same, when his journey was over and he was about to go into his house, who should come running to meet him but his youngest daughter? She threw her arms around him, kissed and hugged him, and when she saw that he had brought her back a singing, springing lark she was beside herself with delight. However, her father could not be glad to see her, but began shedding tears. “My dear child,” he said, “I have paid a high price for that little bird;
I had to promise to give you to a fierce lion in return, and I’m afraid that when he has you, he will tear you to pieces and eat you.” Then he told her all that had happened, and asked her not to go to meet the lion, whatever came of it.

But the girl consoled him. “Dearest father,” she said, “once you have made a promise it must be kept. I will go, and I hope I can soften his heart, so that he will let me come home to you again safe and sound.”

Next morning she made him tell her the way, said goodbye, and went boldly into the forest. Now it so happened that the lion was a King’s son under a magic spell. By day he was a lion, and so were all his retinue and servants, but by night they returned to their natural human form. When the girl arrived she was welcomed kindly and taken into the castle. At nightfall came she found herself facing a handsome man, and their wedding was celebrated with great splendour. So they lived happily together, awake by night and asleep by day.

One day her husband told her, “Tomorrow your eldest sister is getting married, so there are great celebrations at your father’s house, and if you’d like to go to the wedding my lions will escort you there.” She said yes, knowing how glad she would be to see her father again, so she went and was accompanied by the lions. There was great rejoicing when she arrived, because they all thought that she had been torn to pieces by the lion and was dead long ago. But she told them what a handsome husband she had,
and how well she lived, and stayed with her family as long as the wedding celebrations lasted. Then she went back into the forest.

When her second sister was to be married, and she was invited to the wedding, she told the lion, “I don’t want to go alone this time. You must come with me.” However, the lion said it would be too dangerous for him, for if a ray of any burning light fell on him he would be turned into a dove, and would have to fly through the air with the other doves for seven long years.

“Oh, do come with me,” she said. “I’ll take good care of you and keep you safe from any such light.”

So they went to the wedding together, taking their little child with them. The lion’s wife had a large room in her father’s house surrounded by walls so thick and strong that not a ray of light could fall into it, and he was to sit there when the wedding candles were lit. But because the door was made of newly felled, unseasoned timber, it warped and there was a little crack that no one noticed.

The wedding was celebrated with great splendour, but when the bridal procession came back from church, and passed the thickly walled room with many torches and other lights burning, a ray of light no wider than a hair’s breadth fell on the King’s son, and as soon as that ray had touched him he changed shape. When his wife came in, and looked for him, she could not see him, but a white dove was sitting there. The dove said to her, “Now I must
go out into the world and fly in the air for seven years, but at every seventh step I will let a red drop of blood and a white feather fall to the ground, and they will show you the way. If you follow that trail, you can break the spell on me.”

Then the dove flew out of the doorway, and she followed. At every seventh step that she took, a drop of red blood and a little white feather fell, showing her the way. So she went on and on into the wide world, neither looking around nor resting, and when the seven years were nearly up she rejoiced, thinking the spell would soon be broken. But one day, as she was walking along, the little feathers and the drops of red blood stopped falling, and when she looked up the dove had disappeared.

She thought that no human being could help her now, so she climbed up to the sun and said, “Sun, you shine into all nooks and crannies, you shine over all peaks and pinnacles, have you seen a white dove flying anywhere?”

“No,” said the sun, “I haven’t seen any dove, but I will give you a little box. Take this, and open it when you are in great need.”

She thanked the sun, and went on until evening, when the moon was shining, and she asked the moon, “Moon, you shine over the fields and forests all night long, have you seen a white dove flying anywhere?”

“No,” said the moon, “I have seen no doves, but I will give you an egg. Take this, and break it when you are in great need.”

So she thanked the moon, and went on until she felt the night wind blowing, and said to the wind, “You blow through all the leaves of all the trees, have you seen a white dove flying anywhere?”

“No,” said the night wind, “I have seen no doves, but I will ask the other three winds. They may have seen the dove.”

The east wind and the west wind came and said they had seen nothing, but the south wind said, “Yes, I saw the white dove. It flew to the Red Sea and became a lion again, for now the seven years are up, and the lion is fighting a dragon by the shores of the Red Sea, but the dragon is really an enchanted Princess.”

Then the night wind told her, “I will give you some advice. Go to the Red Sea, and you will see some large reeds growing on its right bank. Count them, cut the eleventh and strike the dragon with it. Then the lion can overcome it and both will recover their human shape. Look around, and you will see a griffin sitting by the Red Sea. Climb up on the griffin’s back along with the Prince, and the griffin will spread its wings and carry the two of you over the sea and home. I will also give you a nut; take this, and when you are over the middle of the sea drop it, and a tall nut tree on which the griffin can rest will immediately grow out of the water. If it could not rest it would not be strong enough to carry you both over the sea, and if you forget about the nut it will throw you down into the water.”

So she went to the Red Sea, and found everything just as the night wind had said it would be. She cut the eleventh reed and struck the dragon with it. At once the lion defeated the dragon, and they were both back in human form. When the spell on the Princess who had been an enchanted dragon was broken, and she saw that she was free, she took the Prince’s arm, mounted the griffin and carried him away with her.

So now the Prince’s poor wife, who had travelled so far, was deserted again. However, she said, “I will travel as far as the wind blows and as long as the rooster crows, until I find my husband.” She went away and travelled for a long time, by many paths, until at last she came to the castle where the enchanted Prince and Princess were living together. Then she heard that there was soon to be a great feast, and the two of them would be married.

“May God help me now,” she said. She took out the little box that the sun had given her, and found in it a dress that shone like the sun itself. Taking it out, she put it on, and went up to the castle. Everyone turned to stare at her, and so did the bride herself; she liked the dress so much that she thought it could be her wedding dress, and asked if it was for sale.

“Not for gold and not for goods,” said the true wife, “only for flesh and blood.”

The bride asked what she meant by that, and she said, “Let me spend one night in the room where the Prince
is sleeping.” The bride didn’t like it, but she wanted the dress, so at last she agreed. However, she told the chamberlain waiting on the Prince to give him a sleeping draught. When it was night, and the Prince was asleep, his true wife was led into the room. She sat down by the bed and lamented, saying, “I have followed you for seven long years, I went to the sun and the moon and the four winds to ask for news of you, I helped you to defeat the dragon, and will you forget me now?” But the King’s son was so fast asleep that although he seemed to hear the wind rushing in the fir trees outside, that was all. When morning came, his wife was led out again, and she had to give the bride her golden dress. It had all been for nothing, she thought sadly, and she went out into a meadow, sat down there and shed tears.

And as she sat there she remembered the egg that the moon had given her, and broke it. Out came a mother hen with twelve little golden chicks. The chicks ran around cheeping, and then scurried under their mother’s wings again. They were the prettiest sight in the world. She stood up and drove the hen and her chicks ahead of her across the meadow, until the bride looked out of her window and saw them. She liked the little chicks so much that she came down at once, and asked if they were for sale.

“Not for gold and not for goods, but only for flesh and blood,” said the true wife. “Let me spend another night
in the room where the bridegroom sleeps.” Well, the bride agreed, but she planned to deceive the other woman as she had the night before. However, when the King’s son was going to bed, he asked his chamberlain what all those murmuring, rustling sounds had been last night. Then the chamberlain told him everything, saying that he had been made to give him a sleeping draught, and he was to give him another tonight.

“Pour it out on the floor beside the bed,” said the King’s son.

That night his wife was led in again, and when she began telling him her sorrows he immediately recognized her by her voice. He jumped out of bed, crying, “Now the spell is truly broken. I feel as if I had been dreaming. The strange King’s daughter bewitched me into forgetting you, but God has freed me from that spell too just in time.”

Then they both left the castle by night and in secret, being afraid of the enchanted Princess’s father, who was a sorcerer. They mounted on the griffin’s back, and it carried them over the Red Sea. When they were right in the middle of the Red Sea, the Prince’s wife dropped the nut. A tall nut tree grew at once, the griffin rested on it, and then it carried them home to their own castle, where they found their son, who had grown tall and handsome. And they all lived happily ever after until the end of their days.

O
NCE UPON A TIME
there was an old Queen whose husband had died many years before, and she had a beautiful daughter. The daughter grew up, and she was promised in marriage to a king’s son who lived far away. When the time came for their wedding, and the girl was to travel to a distant land, the old Queen packed up all kinds of precious and valuable things for her to take, gold and silver, goblets and jewels, in short all that should be the dowry of a royal bride, because she loved her daughter dearly. She also gave her a chambermaid to ride with her, and deliver the bride safely into the hands of her bridegroom, and the Princess and her maid each had a horse to ride on the journey. The King’s daughter rode a horse called Falada, and he could speak. When the time came for them to leave, the bride’s old mother went to her bedchamber, took a little knife and cut her fingers until they bled. She held a white cloth under them, let three drops of blood fall on the cloth, gave it to her daughter and said, “Dear child, keep this safe. It will do you good service on your way.”

Mother and daughter sadly said goodbye to one another, and the King’s daughter put the cloth in the bosom of her dress, mounted her horse and rode away to join her bridegroom. When they had been riding for an hour she felt very thirsty, and she said to her chambermaid, “Get down from your horse, take the golden goblet that you have brought for me and bring me water from the stream over there. I’d like something to drink.”

“If you’re thirsty,” said the chambermaid, “then get down from your own horse, bend over the water and drink. I’m not going to be your servant any more.”

The King’s daughter was so thirsty that she climbed down, bent over the water in the stream and drank, but not from her golden goblet. “Ah, God!” she said, and the three drops of blood replied, “If your royal mother knew, her poor heart would break in two.” But the bride was meek, did not protest, and mounted her horse again. So they rode several miles further, but it was a hot day, the sun blazed down, and soon the Princess was thirsty again. When they came to a river, she called to her chambermaid once more, saying, “Get down from your horse and give me some water in my golden goblet,” because by now she had forgotten her maid’s harsh words.

But the chambermaid said a second time, and even more haughtily, “If you want something to drink, get it for yourself. I’m not going to be your servant any more.”
And the Queen’s daughter was so thirsty that she got off her horse, lay down by the flowing water, wept and said, “Ah, God!” And the drops of blood answered again. “If your royal mother knew, her poor heart would break in two.” But as she drank, leaning far over the river, the cloth with the three drops of blood on it fell out of the bosom of her dress and floated away with the current, unnoticed by the bride in her distress. However, the chambermaid had seen it, and was glad to think that now she would have power over the bride, for the three drops of blood were lost, and without them the Queen’s daughter had no strength of her own. As she was about to mount her horse Falada again, the chambermaid said, “I ought to be riding Falada, and you can have this nag of mine.” Then the chambermaid told her harshly to take off her royal clothes, put on the maid’s instead, and last of all she had to swear under the open sky that she would not say a word about all this at the King’s court, and if she broke that oath she would be killed on the spot. But the horse Falada saw it all and remembered it.

Now the chambermaid mounted Falada and the true bride the other horse, and so they rode on until at last they reached the royal castle. There was great rejoicing at their arrival, and the King’s son ran to meet them and lifted the chambermaid down from her horse, thinking she was his promised bride. She was led up the stairs into the castle while the true bride had to stand down below.
Then the old King, looking out of a window, saw her in the courtyard and noticed how lovely she was, delicate and very beautiful. He went straight to the royal apartments and asked the bride about the girl who had come with her and was standing down in the yard. “Who is she?” he said.

“Oh, only my maid. I brought her with me for company,” said the false bride. “Give the girl some work to do so that she’s not left idle.” But the old King had no work for her, and was at a loss. All he could think of was to say, “There’s a boy here who herds the geese; she can help him.” The boy, whose name was Konrad, was known as Curdie, and the true bride had to help him herd the geese.

Soon, however, the false bride said to the young King, “Dear husband, I would like you to do me a favour.” “With all my heart,” he said. “Then send for the slaughterer and tell him to cut off the head of the horse I rode when I came here. He behaved badly on the way.” But really she was afraid that Falada might speak and tell everyone what she had done to the Queen’s daughter.

When she had got what she wanted, and the faithful Falada was to die, news of it came to the ears of the rightful bride, and she secretly promised the slaughterer to pay him a gold piece if he would do her a small service. There was a great dark gateway in the city, and she had to pass through it morning and evening with the geese. She asked him to nail the horse’s head up under the gateway,
so that she could see him whenever she passed by. The slaughterer promised to do as she asked, cut off the head and nailed it up under the dark gateway.

Early in the morning, when the true bride and Curdie went through the gateway, she said as she passed:

And the head replied:

Then she went quietly on out of the city, and the two gooseherds drove the geese into the fields. When she had reached the meadow, she sat on the grass and let down her hair, which was like pure gold. Curdie saw the way it shone, and thought he would like to pull out a few of those hairs, but the goosegirl said:

And such a strong wind got up that it blew Curdie’s hat all over the countryside, so that he had to run after it. By the time he came back, she had finished combing her hair and pinning it up, and he couldn’t snatch a single golden hair. That made Curdie cross, and he wouldn’t speak to her. So they herded the geese until evening, and then they went home.

Next morning, as they drove the geese under the dark gateway, the girl said:

And the head replied:

Once outside the city, she sat down in the meadow again and began combing out her hair. When Curdie came running up, trying to snatch a hair or so, she quickly said:

Then the wind blew, swept his hat off his head and far away, so that Curdie had to run after it, and by the time he came back she had finished doing her hair and pinning it up again, and still he couldn’t snatch a single golden hair. So they herded the geese until it was evening.

After they had gone home that evening, however, Curdie went to the old King and said, “I don’t want to herd geese with that girl any more.”

“Why not?” asked the old King.

“Oh, she bothers me all day long.”

The old King ordered him to say just what had happened. So Curdie said, “In the morning, when we pass under the dark gateway with the flock of geese, there’s a horse’s head nailed up on the wall, and she says to it:

‘Falada dear, I see you there.’

Then the head replies:

And Curdie went on with his story, telling the King what happened on the meadow with the geese, and how he had to run after his hat in the wind.

The old King told him to drive the geese out again as usual next day, and when morning came he himself stood by the dark gateway and heard the girl talking to Falada’s head. Then he followed her out of the city and hid behind a bush in the meadow. So he saw for himself how the goosegirl and Curdie drove the flock out, and how she sat down after a while and let down her shining golden hair. Then she said again:

And along came a gust of wind to blow Curdie’s hat away, so that he had to run after it while the girl combed and braided her hair and pinned it up. The old King watched it all. Then he went back to the city unobserved, and when the goosegirl came home in the evening he called her aside and asked why she did these things.

“I can’t tell you,” she said. “I can’t tell my troubles to any human soul, because I swore under the open sky not to speak of them, and if I hadn’t sworn that oath I would have died.”

He urged her to tell him more, and gave her no peace, but he couldn’t get her to say anything. Then he said, “If you won’t tell me, then tell your troubles to the iron stove there.” So saying, he went away.

Then she crept into the iron stove and began weeping and wailing, pouring out her whole heart. “Here I am,” she said, “forsaken by everyone although I am a King’s daughter, and a false chambermaid forced me to strip off my royal clothes and took my place with my bridegroom, so that now I have to toil as a common goosegirl. If my royal mother knew, her poor heart would break in two.”

But the old King was standing outside by the stovepipe, listening, and he heard all that she said. Then he came in again and told her to get out of the stove. Royal clothes were brought for her to wear, and everyone marvelled at her beauty. The old King called for his son, and told him that he had the wrong bride; she was only a chambermaid, but here was his true bride, the former goosegirl. The young King was glad at heart when he saw how beautiful and good the real princess was, and a great banquet was held to which all the royal family’s friends were invited. The bridegroom sat at the head of the table, with the King’s daughter on one side of him and the chambermaid on the other, but the chambermaid was dazzled and didn’t recognize the true bride in all the bright jewellery she was wearing. When they had eaten and drunk and were all merry, the old King asked
the chambermaid a riddle: What did a woman deserve who had deceived her master in a certain way? And he described all that had happened and asked, “What do you say should be done to her?”

The false bride said, “She deserves to be stripped naked, put in a barrel full of sharp nails, and then two white horses should be harnessed to the barrel to drag her uphill and downhill until she is dead.”

“You are that woman,” said the old King, “and you have passed sentence on yourself.” And when the sentence had been carried out, the young King was married to his true bride, and they ruled the kingdom together in peace and happiness.