Once upon a time, long long ago, in the days when poplars bore pears and rushes violets, when bears could switch themselves with their tails like cows, and wolves and lambs kissed and cuddled each other, there lived an Emperor whose hair was already white, and who yet had never a son to bless himself with. The poor Emperor would have given anything to have had a little son of his own like other men, but all his wishes were in vain.
At last, when he was quite an old old man, Fortune took pity on him also, and a darling of a boy was born to him, the like of which the world had never seen before. The Emperor gave him the name of Aleodor, and gathered east and west, north and south, together to rejoice in his joy at the child’s christening. The revels lasted three days and three nights, and all the guests who made merry there with the Emperor could think of nothing else for the rest of their lives.
But the lad grew up as strong as an oak and as lovely as a rose, while his father the Emperor drew nearer every day to the edge of the grave, and when the hour of his death arrived he took the child on his knees and said to him:
“My darling son, behold the Lord calls me. The moment is at hand when I am to share the common lot of man. I foresee that thou wilt become a great man, and though I be dead my bones will rejoice in the tomb at thy noble deeds. As to the administration of this realm I need tell thee nought, for thou, with thy wisdom, wilt know how it behoves a king to rule. One thing there is, nevertheless, that I must tell thee. Dost thou see that mountain over yonder? Beware of ever setting thy foot upon it, for ’twill be to thy hurt and harm. That mountain belongs to the ‘Half-man-riding-on-the-worse-half-of-a-lame-horse,’ and whosoever ventures upon that mountain cannot escape unscathed.”
He had no sooner said these words than his throat rattled thrice, and he gave up the ghost. He departed to his place like every other human soul that is born into the world, though there was never Emperor like him since the world began. Those of his household bewailed him, his great nobles bewailed
him, his people bewailed him also, and then they had to bury him.
Aleodor, from the moment that he ascended the throne of his father, ruled the land wisely like a mature statesman, though in age he was but a child. All the world delighted in his sway, and men thanked Heaven for allowing them to live in the days of such a prince.
All the time that was not taken up by affairs of State, Aleodor spent in the chase. But he always bore in mind the precepts of his father, and took care not to exceed the bounds which had been set him.
One day, however—how it came about I know not—but anyhow he fell into a brown study, and never noticed that he had overstepped the domains of the Half-man till, after taking a dozen steps or so onwards, he found himself face to face with the monster. That he was trespassing on the grounds of this stunted and terrible creature did not trouble him over-much, it was the thought that he had transgressed the dying command of his dear father that grieved him.
“Ho, ho!” cried the hideous monster, “dost thou not know that every scoundrel who oversteps my bounds becomes my property?”
“Yes,” replied Aleodor, “but I must tell thee that it was through want of thought and without wishing it that I have trodden on thy ground. Against thee I have no evil design at all.”
“I know better than that,” replied the monster; “but I see that, like all cowards, thou dost think it best to make excuses.”
“Nay, so sure as God preserves me, I am no coward. I have told thee the simple truth; but if thou wouldst fight, I am ready. Choose thy weapons! Shall we slash with sabres, or slog with clubs, or wrestle together?”
“Neither the one nor the other,” replied the monster. “One way only canst thou escape thy just punishment—thou must fetch me the daughter of the Green Emperor!”
Aleodor would very much have liked to have got out of the difficulty some other way, as affairs of State would not allow him to take so long a journey, a journey on which he could find no guide to direct him; but what did the monster know of all that? Aleodor felt that if he would avoid the shame of being thought a robber and a trampler on the rights of others, he must indeed find the daughter of the Green Emperor. Besides, he wanted to escape with a whole skin if he could; so at last he promised that he would do the service required of him.
Now the Half-man-riding-on-the-worse-half-of-a-lame-horse knew very well that, as a man of honour, Aleodor would never depart from his plighted word, so he said to him: “Go now, in God’s name, and may good luck attend thee!”
So Aleodor departed. He went on and on, thinking over and over again how he was to accomplish his task, and so keep his word, when he came to the margin of a pond, and there he saw a pike dashing its life out on the shore. He immediately went up to it to satisfy his hunger with it, when the pike said to him: “Slay me not, Boy-Beautiful![18] but cast me rather back into the water again, and then I will do thee good whenever thou dost think of me.”
Aleodor listened to the pike, and threw it back into the water again. Then the pike said to him again: “Take this scale, and whenever thou dost look at it and think of me I will be with thee.”
Then the youth went on further and marvelled greatly at such a strange encounter.
Presently he fell in with a crow that had one wing broken. He would have killed the crow and eaten it, but the crow said to him: “Boy-Beautiful, Boy-Beautiful! why wilt thou burden thy soul on my account? Far better were it if thou didst bind up my wing, and much good will I requite thee with for thy kindness.”
Aleodor listened, for his heart was as kind as his hand was cunning; and he bound up the crow’s wing. When he made ready to go on again, the crow said to him: “Take this feather, thou gallant youth! and whenever thou dost look at it and think of me, I will be with thee.”
Then Aleodor took the feather and went on his way. He hadn’t gone a hundred paces further when he stumbled upon an ant. He would have trodden upon it, when the ant said to him: “Spare my life, O Emperor Aleodor, and I’ll deliver thee also from death! Take this little bit of membrane from my wing, and whenever thou dost think of me, I’ll be with thee.”
When Aleodor heard these words, and how the ant called him by his name, he raised his foot again and let the ant go where it would. He also went on his way, and after journeying for I know not how many days he came at last to the palace of the Green Emperor. There he knocked at the door, and stood waiting for some one to come out and ask him what he wanted.
He stood there one day, he stood there two days, but as for any one coming out to ask him what he wanted, there was no sign of it. When the third day dawned, however, the Green Emperor called to his servants and gave them a talking to that they were likely to remember. “How comes it,” said he, “that a man should be standing at my gates three days without any one going out to ask him what he wants? Is this what I pay you wages for?”
The servants of the Green Emperor looked up, and they looked down, but they had not one word to say for themselves. At last they went and called Aleodor and led him before the Emperor.
“What dost thou want, my son?” inquired the Emperor; “and wherefore art thou waiting at the gates of my court?”
“I have come, great Emperor, to seek thy daughter.”
“Good, my son. But, first of all, we must make a compact together, for such is the custom of my court. Thou must hide thyself wheresoever thou wilt three times running. If my daughter finds thee all three times, thy head shall be struck off and stuck on a stake, the only one out of a hundred that has not a suitor’s head upon it. But if she does not find thee thrice, thou shalt have her from me with all imperial courtesy.”
“My hope, great Emperor, is in the Lord, Who will not allow me to perish. We will put something else on this stake of thine, but not the head of a man. Let us make the compact.”
“I agree.”
So they made them a compact, and the deeds were drawn out and signed and sealed.
Then the daughter of the Emperor met him next day, and it was arranged that he should hide himself as best he could. But now he was in an agony that tortured him worse than death, for he bethought him again and again where and how he could best hide himself, for nothing less than his head was at stake. And as he kept walking about, and brooding and pondering, he remembered the pike. Then he took out the fish’s scale, looked at it, and thought of the fish’s master, and immediately, oh wonderful!—the pike stood before him and said: “What dost thou want of me, Boy-Beautiful?”
“What do I want? Thou mayest well ask that! Look what has happened to me! Canst thou not tell me what to do?”
“That is thy business no longer. Leave it to me!”
And immediately striking Aleodor with his tail, he turned him into a little shell-fish, and hid him among the other little shell-fish at the bottom of the sea.
When the damsel appeared, she put on her eye-glass and looked for him in every direction, but could see him nowhere. Her other wooers had hidden themselves in caves, or behind houses, or under haycocks and haystacks, or in some hole or corner, but Aleodor hid himself in such a way that the damsel began to fear that she would be vanquished. Then it occurred to her to turn her eye-glass towards the sea, and she saw him beneath a heap of mussels. But you must know that her eye-glass was a magic eye-glass.
“I see thee, thou rascal,” cried she, “how thou hast bothered me, to be sure! From being a man thou hast made thyself a mussel, and hidden thyself at the bottom of the sea.”
This he couldn’t deny, so of course he had to come up again.
But she said to the Emperor: “Methinks, dear father, this youth will suit me. He is nice and comely. Even if I find him all three times let me have him, for he is not stupid like the others. Why, thou canst see from his figure even how different he is.”
“We shall see,” replied the Emperor.
On the second day Aleodor bethought him of the crow, and immediately the crow stood before him, and said to him: “What dost thou want, my master?”
“Look now, senseless one! what has happened to me. Canst thou not show me a way out of it?”
“Let us try!” and with that it struck him with its wing and turned him into a young crow, and placed him in the midst of a flock of crows that were flying high in the air in the teeth of a fierce tempest.
Then the damsel came again with her eye-glass and searched for him in every direction. He was nowhere to be found. She looked for him on the earth, but he was not there. She looked for him in the rivers and in the sea, but he was not there. The damsel grew pensive. She searched and searched till mid-day, when it occurred to her to look upwards also. And perceiving him in the glory of the sky in the midst of a swarm of crows, she pointed him out with her finger and cried: “Look! look! Rogue that thou art! Come down from there, O man, that hast made thyself into a bit of a bird! Nothing in the fields of heaven can escape my eye!”
Then he came down, for what else could he do? Even the Emperor himself now began to be amazed at the skill and cunning of Aleodor, and lent an ear to the prayers of his daughter. Inasmuch, however, as the compact declared that Aleodor was to hide three times, the Emperor said to his daughter: “Wait once more, for I am curious to see what place he will find to hide himself in next.”
The third day, early in the morning, he thought of the ant, and—whisk!—the ant was by his side. When she had found out what he wanted she said to him: “Leave it to me, and if she find thee I am here to help thee.”
So the ant turned him into a flower-seed, and hid him in the very skirts of the damsel without her perceiving it.
Then the Emperor’s daughter rose up, took her eye-glass, and sought for him all day long, but look where she would she could not find him. She plagued herself almost to death in her search, for she felt that he was close at hand, though see him she could not. She looked through her eye-glass on the ground, and in the sea, and up in the sky, but she could see him nowhere, and towards evening, tired out by so much searching, she exclaimed: “Show thyself then, this once! I feel that thou art close at hand, and yet I cannot see thee. Thou hast conquered, and I am thine.”
Then when he heard her say that he had conquered, he slipped slowly down from her skirts and revealed himself. The Emperor had now nothing more to say, so he gave the youth his daughter, and when they departed, he escorted them to the boundaries of his empire with great pomp and ceremony.
While they were on the road they stopped at a place to rest, and after they had refreshed themselves somewhat with food, he laid his head in her lap and fell asleep. The daughter of the Emperor could not forbear from looking at him, and her eyes filled with tears as they feasted on his comeliness and beauty. Then her heart grew soft within her, and she could not help kissing him. But Aleodor, when he awoke, gave her a buffet with the palm of his hand that awoke the echoes.
“Nay but, my dear Aleodor!” cried she, “thou hast indeed a heavy hand.”
“I have slapped thee,” said he, “for the deed thou hast done, for I have not taken thee for myself, but for him who bade me seek thee.”
“Good, my brother! but why didst thou not tell me so at home? for then I also would have known what to do. But let be now, for all that is past.”
Then they set out again till they came alive and well to the Half-man-riding-on-the-worse-half-of-a-lame-horse.
“Lo, now! I have done my service,” said Aleodor, and with that he would have departed. But when the girl beheld the monster, she shivered with disgust, and would not stay with him for a single moment. The hideous cripple drew near to the maiden, and began to caress her with honeyed words, that so she might go with him willingly. But the girl said to him: “Depart from me, Satan, and go to thy mother Hell, who hath cast thee upon the face of the earth!” Then the half-monster half-man was near to melting for the love he had for the damsel, and, writhing away on his belly, he fetched his mother that she might help to persuade the maid to be his wife. But meanwhile the damsel had dug a little trench all round her, and stood rooted to the spot with her eyes fixed on the ground. The hideous satanic skeleton of a monster could not get at her.
“Depart from the face of the earth, thou abomination!” cried she; “the world is well rid of such a pestilential monster as thou art!”
Still he strove and strove to get at her, but finding at last he could not reach her, he burst with rage and fury that a mere woman should have so covered him with shame and reproach.
Then Aleodor added the domain of the Half-man-riding-on-the-worse-half-of-a-lame-horse to his own possessions, took the daughter of the Green Emperor to wife, and returned to his own empire. And when his people saw him coming back in the company of a smiling spouse as beautiful as the stars of heaven, they welcomed him with great joy, and, mounting once more his imperial throne, he ruled his people in peace and plenty till the day of his death.
And now I’ll mount my horse again, and say an “Our Father” before I go.
Once upon a time, a long long time ago, when fleas were shod with ninety and nine pieces of iron, and flew up into the blue sky to fetch us down fairy-tales, there lived an Emperor who had three daughters. One day, when he was going to battle, he called these daughters to him and said to them:
“Look now, my darlings! Needs must that I go to the wars. My foe is advancing against me with a huge host. ’Tis with great bitterness of heart that I part from you. In my absence, take care that you have your wits about you, behave well, and look after the affairs of the household. You have my leave to walk in the garden and enter all the rooms of my house, only in the chamber at the bottom of the corridor on the right-hand side you must not enter, or it will not be well with you.”
“Depart in peace, papa!” cried they. “Never yet have we disobeyed the words of thy commands. Go without any fear of us, and God give thee victory over all thine enemies!”
So when he was quite ready to depart, the Emperor gave them the keys of all his chambers; but once more he put them in mind of his command, and then he bade them good-bye and departed.
The daughters of the Emperor kissed his hand with tears in their eyes, and wished him victory once more, and then the eldest of the three daughters received the keys from the hands of the Emperor.
When the daughters of the Emperor found themselves all alone they knew not what to do with themselves, the time hung so heavily. At last they agreed to work a part of the day, and to read another part of the day, and spend the rest of the day walking in the garden. This they did, and things went well with them.
But the Deceiver of mankind was vexed at the tranquillity of the maidens, so he must needs twist his tail in their affairs.
“My sisters,” said the eldest of the three damsels one day, “why do we spend the live-long day in sewing and knitting and reading? I am sick and tired of it all. It is ever so many days now since we were left to ourselves, and there’s not a corner of the garden that we have not walked in over and over again. We have also been through all the rooms of our father’s palace, and looked at all the ornaments there till we know them by heart. Let us now enter into that chamber which our father told us not to enter.”
“Woe is me, dear sister!” said the youngest damsel. “I wonder that thou shouldst persuade us to tread underfoot the precepts of our father. When our father told us not to enter there, he must needs have known what he was saying, and why he told us so to do.”
“Dost thou fancy, silly, that there’s some evil serpent there that will eat us, or some other foul beast perhaps?” cried the middle sister. “Besides, how is papa to know whether we were there or not?”
Talking and arguing thus, they had reached the door of the chamber, and the eldest sister, who was the guardian of the keys, popped the key into the key-hole, and turning it round—crack-rack!—the door flew wide open.
The damsels entered.
What do you think they saw there? The room was bare of furniture, but in the middle of it stood a large table covered with a beautiful cloth, and on the top of it was a wide-open book.
The girls, all full of impatience, wanted to find out what was written in this book, and the eldest went up to it and read these words: “The eldest daughter of the Emperor will marry a son of the Emperor of the East.”
Then the second daughter went up to the book, and turning over the leaf, read these words: “The second daughter of the Emperor will marry a son of the Emperor of the West.”
The girls laughed and made merry at these words, and giggled and joked among themselves. But the youngest daughter would not go up to the book.
But the elder ones would not leave her in peace, but dragged her up to the long table, and then, though very unwillingly, she turned over the leaf and read these words—
“The youngest daughter of the Emperor will have a pig for her spouse.”
A thunderbolt falling from the sky could not have hurt her more than the reading of these words. She was like to have died of horror, and if her sisters had not held her she would have dashed her head to pieces against the ground.
When she had come to herself again, her sisters began to try to comfort her. “How canst thou believe all that nonsense?” said they. “When didst thou ever hear of the daughter of an Emperor marrying a pig?”
“What a baby thou art!” added the eldest, “as if papa hadn’t armies enough to save thee, even if so loathsome a monster as that did come and try and make thee his wife!”
The youngest daughter of the Emperor would very much have liked to believe what her sisters said, but her heart would not allow it. She thought continually of the book which promised her sisters such handsome bridegrooms, while it foretold that that should happen to her which had never yet happened since the world began. Then she reflected how she had transgressed the commands of her father, and her heart smote her. She began to grow thin, and ere a few days had passed she had so changed that none could recognize her. She became sad and sallow, instead of rosy and rollicking, and could take part in nothing at all. She ceased to play with her sisters in the garden; she ceased to cull posies and make garlands of them for her head, and when her sisters sang over their distaffs and embroideries her voice was dumb.
Meanwhile the Emperor, the father of these girls, succeeded beyond even the wishes of his dearest friends, and vanquished and dispersed his enemies. As his thoughts were continually with his daughters, he did what he had to do quickly and returned home. Crowds and crowds of people turned out to meet him with fifes and drums and trumpets, and great was their joy at the sight of their victorious Emperor.
When he reached his capital, before going home, he gave thanks to God for aiding him against the enemies who had tried to do him evil. Then he went to his own house, and his daughters came out to meet him. His joy was great when he saw how well they were, for his youngest daughter did her best to appear as gay and happy as the others.
But it was not very long before the Emperor observed that, little by little, his youngest daughter was growing sadder and thinner. “What if she has broken my commands?” thought he, and as it were a red-hot iron pierced his soul. Then he called his daughters to him, and bade them speak the truth. They confessed, but they did not say which of them had first persuaded them.
When the Emperor heard this he was filled with bitterness, and from henceforth sadness took possession of him. But he held his tongue, and did but make all the more of his youngest daughter because he was about to lose her. What’s done is done, and he knew that thousands and thousands of words can’t make one farthing.
Time went on, and he had almost come to forget the circumstance, when one day there appeared at the Emperor’s court the son of the Emperor of the East, who sought the hand of his eldest daughter. The Emperor gave her to him with joy. They had a splendid wedding, and after three days he conducted them with great pomp to the frontier. A little while afterwards the same thing happened to the second daughter, for the son of the Emperor of the West came and sought her in marriage likewise.
Accordingly as she saw what had been written in the book gradually fulfilled, the youngest daughter of the Emperor grew sadder and sadder. She no longer enjoyed her food; she would not go out walking; she even lost all pleasure in raiment; she preferred to die rather than become the laughing-stock of the whole world. But the Emperor did not give her the opportunity of doing anything foolish, but took care to divert her with all manner of pleasant stories.
Time went on, and lo!—oh, wonderful!—one day a large hog entered the royal palace and said: “Hail, O Emperor! May thy days be as rosy and as joyous as sunrise on a cloudless day!”
“Good and fair is thy greeting, my son!” replied the Emperor; “but what ill wind hath blown thee hither, I should like to know?”
“I have come as a wooer,” replied the hog.
The Emperor marvelled greatly at hearing such a pretty speech in the mouth of a hog, and immediately felt within himself that all was not right here. He would have put the hog off with some excuse if he could, to save his daughter, but when he heard the court and all the ways leading to it full of the grunts of the hogs who had accompanied the wooer, he had nothing to say for himself, and promised the hog that he would do what it asked. But the hog was not content with his bare promise, but insisted that the wedding should take place within a week. Only when it had obtained the Emperor’s word that it should be so did it go away.
The Emperor told his daughter that she must submit to her fate, as it was clearly the will of God. Then he added: “My daughter, the speech and sensible bearing of this hog belong to no brute beast with which I am acquainted. I’ll wager my head upon it that he was never born a hog. There must be a touch of sorcery here, or some other devilry. If thou art obedient, thou wilt not depart from thy given word, for God will not allow thee to be tormented for long.”
“If thou dost think it good, dear father,” replied the girl, “I will obey thee, and put my trust in God. Let Him do what He will with me. It must be so, I have no other way to turn.”
In the meantime the wedding-day arrived. The marriage was celebrated in secret. Then the hog got into one of the imperial carriages with his bride, and so they set off homewards.
On the journey they had to pass by a large marsh. The hog ordered the carriage to stop, got down, and wallowed about in the mire till he was pretty nearly one with it. Then he got into the carriage again, and told his bride to kiss him. Poor girl, what could she do? She took out her cambric pocket-handkerchief, wiped his snout a little, and then kissed him. “I am but obeying my father’s commands,” thought she.
At last they reached the hog’s house, which was in the midst of a dense forest. It was now evening, and when they had rested a little from the fatigues of the road they supped together and lay down to rest. In the night the daughter of the Emperor perceived that her husband was a man and not a hog, and she marvelled greatly. Then she called to mind the words of her father, and hope once more arose in her breast.
Every evening the hog shook off his hog-skin, and every morning before she awoke he put it on again.
One night passed, two nights passed, a great many nights passed, and the damsel could not make out how it was that her husband was a man at night and a hog in the daytime. For he was under a spell; an enchanter had done him this mischief.
Gradually she began to love him, especially when she felt that she was about to become a mother, but what grieved her most was that she was all alone, with none at hand to aid her in her hour of need.
One day, however, she saw an old long-nosed witch pass by that way. Now as she had seen no human creature for a long time, she was full of joy, and called to her, and they had a long talk together.
“Tell me now, old woman,” cried she, “the meaning of this marvel. In the daytime my husband is a hog, but when he sleeps beside me at night he is a man. Explain this marvel to me!”
“I’ll tell thee that later on, but in the meanwhile shall I give thee some medicines that will put an end to the spell that holds him?”
“Oh, do, little mother, and I’ll pay thee for them whatever thou wilt, for I hate to see him as he is now.”
“Very well, then. Take this bit of rope, my little chicken, but let him not know anything about it, or it will lose its effect. Now when he is asleep, rise up, and going to him very very softly, tie his left leg as hard as thou canst, and thou wilt see, dear heart, that on the morrow he’ll remain a man. Money I do not want. I shall be more than repaid if I release him from this scourge. My very heart-strings are bursting with compassion for thy lord, my rose-bud, and I grieve, oh how bitterly I grieve, that I did not come this way before, so as to help thee sooner.”
When the old hag had departed, the daughter of the Emperor took care to carefully conceal the piece of rope, but in the middle of the night she softly arose so that he shouldn’t hear her, and holding her very breath, tied the string round her husband’s left leg, but when she tied the knot—r-rch!—the string broke, for it was rotten, and instantly her husband started up.
“Unhappy woman!” cried he, “what hast thou done? But three days more and I should have been free of this vile spell, but now who knows how long I may have to carry this vile bestial skin! And know, moreover, that thy hand can never touch me again till thou hast worn out three pairs of iron sandals, and worn down three staves of steel, seeking me all over the wide world, for now I must depart.”
And with these words he disappeared.
The poor daughter of the Emperor, when she found herself all alone, began to cry and sob as if her heart would break. She cursed the vile witch with fire and sword, but all in vain, and when at last she saw that all her cursing and moaning did no good, she got up and went whithersoever the mercy of God and the desire of her husband might lead her.
At the first city she arrived at she bade them make her three pairs of iron sandals and three staves of steel, made provision for her journey, and set off to seek her husband.
She went on and on, past nine kingdoms and nine seas, she passed through vast forests where the treestumps were like barrels, she got black and blue from stumbling over the trunks of fallen trees, yet often as she fell, she always got up again and resumed her way; the branches of the trees struck her in the face, the briars tore her hands, yet on and on she went without so much as looking back once. At last, weary with her journey and her burden, bowed down with grief and yet with hope in her heart, she came to a little house. And who should be living there but the Holy Moon.
The damsel knocked at the door and begged them to let her come in and rest a little, especially as she was about to become a mother.
The mother of the Holy Moon had compassion on her and her afflictions, so she let her come inside and took good care of her. Then she asked her: “How is it that thou, a creature of another race, hast managed to come so far as this?”
Then the poor daughter of the Emperor told her everything that had happened to her, and wound up by saying: “I praise and thank God first of all for directing my footsteps even to this place, and I thank Him in the second place because He allows not my child to perish at the hour of its birth. And now I beg thee to tell me whether thy daughter, the Holy Moon, hath seen my husband anywhere?”
“That I cannot tell thee, my dear,” replied the mother of the Holy Moon; “but if thou dost go on thy way towards the east till thou comest to the house of the Holy Sun, maybe he will be able to tell thee somewhat.”
Then she gave her a roast fowl to eat, and told her to be very careful not to lose one of the bones, as they would be very useful to her.
The daughter of the Emperor thanked the mother of the Moon for her hospitality and kind words, and after throwing away the pair of iron sandals which she had worn out, she put on another pair, placed the fowl’s bones in her bosom, took her child on her arm, and a second staff of steel in her hand, and took to the road again.
She went on and on through nothing but plains of sand, and the way was so bad that she glided one step backwards for every two steps she went forwards. On and on she struggled till at last she left these plains behind her; and now she got amongst high mountains, steep and rugged, and crawled from rock to rock and from crag to crag. Whenever she came to a little plot of level ground she stopped and rested a little, and reflected that now she was a little nearer her husband than she was before, and then she went on her way again. The sides of the mountains were of hard-pointed flints, which bruised and cut her feet, knees, and sides till they were covered with blood; for you must know that these mountains were so high that they reached beyond the clouds. There were precipices in the way too that she could only pass by going down on her hands and knees and guiding herself with her staff.
At last, quite overcome by fatigue, she came to a palace.
Here lived the Sun.
She knocked at the door and begged them to take her in.
The mother of the Sun received her, and was amazed to see a creature of another race in those regions, and full of compassion when she heard what had befallen her. Then, when she had promised to ask her son about the damsel’s husband, she hid her in the cellar, that the Sun might not perceive her when he came home in the evening, for he always came back in a bad temper.
Next day the daughter of the Emperor was afraid she would be found out, as the Sun said he smelt a creature from another world. But his mother soothed him with soft words, and told him that it was pears that he smelt. The daughter of the Emperor took courage when she saw how well she was treated, and said:
“Tell me now, how can the Sun be ever vexed, seeing that he is so beauteous, and doeth so much good to mortals?”
“I’ll tell thee,” replied the mother of the Sun. “In the morning he stands in the gate of Heaven, and then he is merry, so merry, and smiles upon the whole world. But at mid-day he is full of disgust, inasmuch as he sees all the follies of men, and so his wrath burns and he gets hotter and hotter; while in the evening he is vexed and sorrowful because he stands in the gate of Hades, for that is the usual way by which he comes home.”
She told her besides that she had asked about her husband, and her son had replied that he knew not anything about him, as he was living in the midst of a vast and dense forest, so that his beams could not pierce through the thick foliage; the only thing to do was to go and ask the Wind about it. Then she also gave her a roast fowl, and told her to take great care of the bones.
So the daughter of the Emperor pitched away the second pair of iron sandals that she had worn out, tied up the bones, took her child on her arm and a third staff in her hand, and went after the Wind.
On this journey she met with hardships greater than any before, for she came upon mountains of flintstones, one after another, through which darted flames of fire, forests untrodden by man, and fields of ice dark with snow-storms. More than once the poor creature was on the point of falling, but with perseverance and the help of God she overcame even these great hardships, and at last she reached a ravine between two mountains, large enough to hold seven cities.
This was the abode of the Wind.
There was a gate in the wall which surrounded it. She knocked and implored them to let her in. The mother of the Wind had compassion on her, and let her in and invited her to rest. “If she had hidden from the Sun,” she said, “surely the Wind would not find her out.”
The next day the mother of the Wind told her that her husband was living in a huge dense wood, which the axe of man had never yet reached, and there he had made him a sort of house by piling up the trunks of trees one on the top of another, and plaiting them together with withy bands, where he lived all alone for fear of wicked men. Then, after she had given her a roast fowl and told her to take good care of the bones, the mother of the Wind counselled her to follow the road that led straight to the sky, and let the stars of heaven be her guides. She said she would, and after thanking her with tears of joy for her hospitality and for her glad tidings, she went on her way.
The poor woman turned night into day. She stopped neither to eat nor to rest, so fiercely did the desire to find her husband burn within her. She went on and on till she quite wore out the third pair of sandals. She threw them away, and began to walk with bare feet. She cared not for the hard clumps of earth, she took no heed of the thorns that entered into her feet, nor of the pain she suffered when she stumbled over the hard stones. At last she came to a green and beauteous meadow on the margin of a forest, and her heart rejoiced within her when she felt the soft grass and saw the sweet flowers. She stopped and rested a little. But when she saw the birds in couples and couples on the branches of the trees, a burning desire for her own husband came upon her, and she began to weep bitterly, and with her child on her arm, and her bundle of bones in her girdle, she went on her way. She entered the forest. She did not once look at the soft green turf which soothed her feet, she listened not to the birds that chirped enough to deafen her, she regarded not the flowers that peeped out from among the bushes, but groped her way step by step into the depths of the forest. For from the tokens given her by the mother of the Wind she perceived that this must be the forest in which her husband was staying.
Three days and three nights she roamed through the forest, and could see no one. So worn was she now with fatigue that she fell to the ground, and there she lay for a day and a night without moving, nor did she eat and drink.
At last she rallied all her remaining strength, rose up, and tottering along, tried to support herself on her staff; but it could help her no more, for that also was quite worn down so that it was now no good to her. Still trusting in God, she went on as best she could. She hadn’t taken ten steps forward when she saw in a cleft of the rock just such a sort of house as the mother of the Wind had told her of. She went towards it, and just managed to get up to it and no more. It was a house that had neither window nor door, but there was an opening in the roof. She looked around her, but there was no sign of a ladder.
What was she to do to get inside it?
She thought and thought again. She tried to climb up it, but in vain. Suddenly she thought of the bones which she had been carrying all this way. “If only I could find out,” said she, “how these bones are to assist me!” She took them out of the bundle, looked at them, reflected a little, and then put one atop the other, and—oh, wonderful!—they joined on to each other as if they had been glued. Then she joined another on to the first two and then another till she made out of them two long bars. Then she put a little bone across the two bars, and it stuck fast like the rung of a ladder. She mounted on it, and placed another little bone across a bit higher, and then she mounted on that also, and so she ascended from rung to rung, placing the small bones across as she went along, till she got quite near the top; but then she saw that there was a wide gap between the last rung of her ladder and the door in the roof of the house, and she now had no more bones to make the last rung. She must have lost it on the way. What was she to do now? She bethought her for a while, and then she cut off a finger and placed that between the bars. Sure enough it joined on to and formed the last rung, and mounting on it she entered the door of the house with her child in her arms. There she rested for awhile, gave her child to suck, and sat down herself on the threshold.
When her husband came he was so amazed at what he saw that he could scarce believe his eyes, and there he stood looking at the ladder of bones, the last rung of which was a severed human finger. Fear came upon him lest there should be some evil enchantment about the thing, and he would have turned his back upon the house if God had not put it into his mind to enter. So turning himself into a dove, and flying up into the air without once touching the ladder, lest evil spells should lay hold of him, he entered the house in full flight, and there he beheld his wife nursing a child; and instantly he was full of tenderness and compassion towards her, for he bethought him of how much she must have suffered and endured before she could have found her way to him. Nay, he could scarce recognize her, so changed was she by her hardships and sufferings.
But the daughter of the Emperor, when she saw him, sprang from her seat, and her heart failed her for fright, for she did not know him. Then he made himself known to her, and she regretted no longer all she had gone through to find him, nay, she forgot it altogether, for he was as tall and straight as a lordly pine.
Then they began talking together. She told him all that had befallen her, and he wept for pity. Then he also spoke, and told her his story.
“I am the son of an Emperor,” said he. “In the war which my father waged with the dragons, our neighbours (and evil neighbours they were, ever ravaging his domains), I slew the smallest of the dragons. Now his mother knew that thou wert my destined bride, so she laid the curse of her spells upon me, and constrained me to wear the skin of an unclean beast, with the design of preventing me from having thee. Yet God aided me, and I won thee nevertheless. That old woman who gave thee the cord to tie my legs with was the dragon’s mother, and when I had but three days more to bear the spell, I was forced, by thy folly, to go about in pigskin three years longer. But now since thou hast suffered for me and I have suffered for thee, let us praise God and return to our parents. Without thee I should have resigned myself to living the life of a hermit, and so I chose this desert for my habitation, and built me this house so that no child of man should get at me.”
Then they embraced each other full of joy, and promised to forget all their past sorrows.
The next day they rose early and went back first of all to the Emperor his father. When it was known that he and his consort had arrived, all the world wept with joy; but his father and mother embraced them tightly, and the public rejoicings lasted three days and three nights.
Then he went on to the Emperor the father of his wife, and he was like to have gone out of his mind for joy when he saw them. When he had heard all their adventures he said to his daughter: “Did I not tell thee not to believe that he who sought thy hand was ever born a hog? Thou hast done well, my daughter, to listen to my words.”
And being an old man, and having no heirs, he descended from his throne and put them upon it in his stead. Then they reigned in peace, and if they are not dead they are living still.
And now I’ll mount my horse again and say an “Our Father” before I go.
Once upon a time, a long while ago, when the very flies wrote upon the walls more beautifully than the mind can picture, there lived an Emperor and an Empress who had three sons, and a very beautiful garden alongside their palace. At the bottom of this garden there grew an apple-tree, entirely of gold from the top to the bottom. The Emperor was wild with joy at the thought that he had in his garden an apple-tree, the like of which was not to be found in the wide world. He used to stand in front of it, and poke his nose into every part of it, and look at it again and again, till his eyes nearly started out of his head. One day he saw this tree bud, blossom, and form its fruit, which began to ripen before him. The Emperor twisted his moustache, and his mouth watered at the thought that the next day he would have a golden apple or two on his table, an unheard-of thing up to that moment since the world began.
Day had scarcely begun to dawn next morning, when the Emperor was already in the garden to feast his eyes to the full on the golden apples; but he almost went out of his mind when, instead of the ripened golden apples, he saw that the tree was budding anew, but of apples there was no sign. While he stood there he saw the tree blossom, the blossoms fall off, and the young fruit again appear.
At this sight his heart came back to him again, and he joyfully awaited the morrow, but on the morrow also the apples had gone—goodness knows where! The Emperor was very wroth. He commanded that the tree should be strictly guarded, and the thief seized; but, alas! where were they to find him?
The tree blossomed every day, put forth flowers, formed its fruit, and towards evening the fruit began to ripen. But in the middle of the night somebody always came and took away the fruit, without the Emperor’s watchers being aware of it. It was just as if it were done on purpose. Every night, sure enough, somebody came and took the apples, as if to mock at the Emperor and all his guards! So though this Emperor had the golden apple-tree in his garden, he not only never could have a golden apple on his table, but never even saw it ripen. At last the poor Emperor took it so to heart that he said he would give up his throne to whosoever would catch and bind the thief.
Then the sons of the Emperor came to him, and asked him to let them watch also. Great was the joy of the Emperor when he heard from the mouth of his eldest son the vow he made to lay hands upon the thief. So the Emperor gave him leave, and he set to work. The eldest son watched the first night, but he suffered the same disgrace that the other watchers had suffered before him.
On the second night the second son watched, but he was no cleverer than his brother, and returned to his father with his nose to the earth.
Both the brothers said that up to midnight they had watched well enough, but after that they could not keep their feet for weariness, but fell down in a deep sleep, and recollected nothing else.
The youngest son listened to all this in silence, but when his big brothers had told their story, he begged his father to let him watch too. Now, sad as his father was at being unable to find a valiant warrior to catch the thief, yet he burst out laughing when he heard the request of his youngest son. Nevertheless, he yielded at last, though only after much pressing, and now the youngest son set about guarding the tree.
When the evening had come, he took his bow, and his quiver full of arrows, and his sword, and went down into the garden. Here he chose out a lonely place, quite away from wall and tree, or any other place that he might have been able to lean against, and stood on the trunk of a felled tree, so that if he chanced to doze off, it might slip from under him and awake him. This he did, and when he had fallen two or three times, sleep forsook him, and weariness ceased to torment him.
Just as it was drawing nigh to dawn, at the hour when sleep is sweetest, he heard a fluttering in the air, as if a swarm of birds was approaching. He pricked up his ears, and heard something or other pecking away at the golden apples. He pulled an arrow from his quiver, placed it on his bow, and drew it with all his might—but nothing stirred. He drew his bow again—still there was nothing. When he had drawn it once more, he heard again the fluttering of wings, and was conscious that a flock of birds was flying away. He drew near to the golden apples, and perceived that the thief had not had time to take all of them. He had taken one here, and one there, but most of them still remained. As now he stood there he fancied he saw something shining on the ground. He stooped down and picked up the shining thing, and, lo and behold! it was two feathers entirely of gold.[19]
When it was day he plucked the apples, placed them on a golden salver, and with the golden feathers in his hat, went to find his father. The Emperor, when he saw the apples, very nearly went out of his mind for joy; but he controlled himself, and proclaimed throughout the city that his youngest son had succeeded in saving the apples, and that the thief was discovered to be a flock of birds.
Boy-Beautiful now asked his father to let him go and search out the thief; but his father would hear of nothing but the long-desired apples, which he was never tired of feasting his eyes upon.
But the youngest son of the Emperor was not to be put off, and importuned his father till at last the Emperor, in order to get rid of him, gave him leave to go and seek the thief. So he got ready, and when he was about to depart, he took the golden feathers out of his cap, and gave them to his mother, the Empress, to keep for him till he returned. He took raiment and money for his journey, fastened his quiverful of arrows to his back, and his sword on his right hip, and with his bow in one hand and the reins in the other, and accompanied by a faithful servant, set off on his way. He went on and on, along roads more and more remote, till at last he came to a desert. Here he dismounted, and taking counsel with his faithful servant, hit upon a road that led to the east. They went on a good bit further, till they came to a vast and dense wood. Through this tangle of a wood they had to grope their way (and it was as much as they could do to do that), and presently they saw, a long way off, a great and terrible wolf, with a head of steel. They immediately prepared to defend themselves, and when they were within bow-shot of the wolf, Boy-Beautiful put his bow to his eye.
The wolf seeing this, cried: “Stay thy hand, Boy-Beautiful, and slay me not, and it will be well for thee one day!” Boy-Beautiful listened to him, and let his bow fall, and the wolf drawing nigh, asked them where they were going, and what they were doing in that wood, untrodden by the foot of man. Then Boy-Beautiful told him the whole story of the golden apples in his father’s garden, and said they were seeking after the thief.
The wolf told him that the thief was the Emperor of the Birds, who, whenever he set out to steal apples, took with him in his train all the birds of swiftest flight, that so they might strip the orchards more rapidly, and that these birds were to be found in the city on the confines of this wood. He also told them that the whole household of the Emperor of the Birds lived by the robbing of gardens and orchards; and he showed them the nearest and easiest way to the city. Then giving them a little apple most lovely to look upon, he said to them: “Accept this apple, Boy-Beautiful! Whenever thou shouldst have need of me, look at it and think of me, and immediately I’ll be with thee!”
Boy-Beautiful took the apple, and concealed it in his bosom, and bidding the wolf good-day, struggled onwards with his faithful servant through the thickets of the forest, till he came to the city where the robber-bird dwelt. All through the city he went, asking where it was, and they told him that the Emperor of that realm had it in a gold cage in his garden.
That was all he wanted to know. He took a turn round the court of the Emperor, and noted in his mind all the ramparts which surrounded the court. When it was evening, he came thither with his faithful servant, and hid himself in a corner, waiting till all the dwellers in the palace had gone to rest. Then the faithful servant gave him a leg-up, and Boy-Beautiful, mounting on his back, scaled the wall, and leaped down into the garden. But the moment he put his hand on the cage, the Emperor of the Birds chirped, and before you could say boo! he was surrounded by a flock of birds, from the smallest to the greatest, all chirping in their own tongues. They made such a noise that they awoke all the servants of the Emperor. They rushed into the garden, and there they found Boy-Beautiful, with the cage in his hand, and all the birds darting at him, and he defending himself as best he could. The servants laid their hands upon him, and led him to the Emperor, who had also got up to see what was the matter.
“I am sorry to see thee thus, Boy-Beautiful,” cried the Emperor, for he knew him. “If thou hadst come to me with good words, or with entreaties, and asked me for the bird, I might, perhaps, have been persuaded to give it to thee of my own good-will and pleasure; but as thou hast been taken hand-in-sack, as they say, the reward of thy deed according to our laws is death, and thy name will be covered with dishonour.”
“Illustrious Emperor,” replied Boy-Beautiful, “these same birds have stolen the golden apples from the apple-tree of my father’s garden, and therefore have I come all this way to lay hands on the thief.”
“What thou dost say may be true, Boy-Beautiful, but I have no power to alter the laws of this land. Only a signal service rendered to our empire can save thee from a shameful death.”
“Say what that service is, and I will venture it.”
“Listen then! If thou dost succeed in bringing me the saddle-horse in the court of the Emperor my neighbour, thou wilt depart with thy face unblackened, and thou shalt take the bird in its cage along with thee.”
Boy-Beautiful agreed to these conditions, and that same day he departed with his faithful servant.
On reaching the court of the neighbouring Emperor he took note of the horse and of all the environs of the court. Then as evening drew near, he hid with his faithful servant in a corner of the court which seemed to him to be a safe ambuscade. He saw the horse walked out between two servants, and he marvelled at its beauty. It was white, its bridle was of gold set with gems inestimable, and it shone like the sun.
In the middle of the night, when sleep is most sweet, Boy-Beautiful bade his faithful servant stoop down, leaped on to his back, and from thence on to the wall, and leaped down into the Emperor’s courtyard. He groped his way along on the tips of his toes till he came to the stable, and opening the door, put his hand on the bridle and drew the horse after him. When the horse got to the door of the stable and sniffed the keen air, it sneezed once with a mighty sneeze that awoke the whole court. In an instant they all rushed out, laid hands on Boy-Beautiful, and led him before the Emperor, who had also been aroused, and who when he saw Boy-Beautiful knew him at once. He reproached him for the cowardly deed he had nearly accomplished, and told him that the laws of the land decreed death to all thieves, and