CHEKH MYTHS AND FOLK-TALES. (continued 2)

“But have ye brought gifts from your princesses?” asked the king.

“Of course,” cried the elder brothers, proudly. Yarmil answered, as it were, timidly, with a nod; for he knew not what was in that casket taken from the pan.

The king had invited a great number of guests to look at the gifts. All were in the banqueting-hall. The king led his sons thither, and when the feast was ended, he said to the eldest: “Now give me the gift from thy princess.”

“My love is the daughter of a great king,” said the prince, proudly; and he gave his father a casket containing a small mirror.

The king looked, and wondered not a little that he saw his whole person. Then he said: “Well, men’s hands can do everything.”

The second son gave him a still smaller mirror, but the king saw in it his whole person; still he only said: “Men’s hands can do everything. But what has thy princess sent me?” asked he of Yarmil. In silence, and timidly, Yarmil gave him the casket. The king barely looked in it when he cried in amazement, “That princess of thine has wealth in abundance; these diamonds alone have more value than my kingdom.” But he wondered when he took from the casket another such mirror, but smaller; and he was really frightened when in a twinkle a puppet sprang out and held the glass for him as soon as he looked at it, and the moment he stopped looking the puppet was gone.

“Oh,” cried the king, “no hand of man could frame that;” and embracing Yarmil, he added with tenderness: “Thou hast brought me true joy, my son.”

Yarmil called to mind the ugly toad, and had no regret now that he had spent a whole year with it; but his brothers and his mother, who was a witch and hated Yarmil, were enraged though they dissembled.

When the feast was over and the princes were parting with their father, he said: “Go now with rejoicing, but return in a year and a day, and bring me portraits of your princesses.”

The elder brothers promised with joy, but Yarmil barely nodded, for he feared what his father would say should he bring the toad’s portrait; still he went with his brothers beyond the town, where he parted with them, and galloped on to the mouse-hole. He was just drawing near when the ground opened to give a good entrance. At the white castle the white lady took his horse and gave him the white steed, which rose through the air, and regardless of bit, flew on till it reached the golden castle. Yarmil hurried to the twelfth chamber; the steed disappeared like a dove in the clouds.

In the castle nothing was changed, and the diamond pan was standing in the twelfth chamber. Yarmil removed the three covers, took out the toad and placed it in his bosom. Now he bathed it twice each day, but to his grief it grew uglier. How could he take the portrait of his princess to his father! He might paint the most beautiful lady, because he was very well skilled in painting, but he would not deceive his father. Only the hope that the toad would help him as before gave him strength to endure the dreary life.

At last the day was near in which he must return to his father. He looked continually on his writing-table till he saw to his great joy a sheet of paper on which was written in silver letters,—

Dear Yarmil,—I love thee unspeakably; be patient, as I am patient. Thou hast my portrait in the pan; give it to thy father, but tarry not long. Put me back in the pan.

Yarmil hastened to the twelfth chamber, found in the pan a casket still richer than the first. He took it quickly, and put the toad in its place. Then he hurried forth, sat on the white steed, which brought him to the white castle, where the white lady gave him his own horse. When he had ridden through the gate and looked back, he saw nothing behind but a mouse-hole. He put spurs to his horse, and rode to the gate of his father’s castle at the same time with his brothers. They stood before their father and said: “Here we are, as thou hast commanded.”

“Do ye bring me portraits of your princesses?” asked the king.

“Of course!” exclaimed the two elder brothers, full of pride. But Yarmil only answered with a nod, for he knew not what portrait the casket contained.

The king led them to the banqueting-hall, where the guests were assembled. When the banquet was over, he said to the eldest: “Now show me the portrait of thy princess.”

The eldest brother gave a rich casket to his father. He opened it, took out a portrait, and looking at it from every side, said at last: “That is a beautiful lady; she pleases me. Still there are fairer than she in the world, but any man might love her.” Then he gave the portrait to the guests, and said to his second son: “And the portrait of thy princess?”

The second son gave him promptly a richer casket, and smiled with happiness. He thought doubtless that his father must be astonished at the beauty of his princess; but he looked on her with indifference and said: “A beautiful lady too, but there are more beautiful in the world; still any man might fall in love with her.”

Then he nodded to Yarmil, who gave with trembling hand his diamond casket. Scarcely had the king looked at it when he exclaimed: “Thy princess must be rich beyond measure; thy casket is at any time worth twice my whole kingdom.” But how was he astonished when he took out the portrait! He looked fixedly at it for a while, unable to utter a word. Then he said with the greatest enthusiasm, “No; such a lady cannot be found in the world.”

All the guests crowded around the portrait, and in one voice agreed with the king. At last Yarmil drew near to look at his princess, unknown till that moment. Now he regretted no whit that he had spent two years in lone life and nursing a toad; but his brothers and his mother were raging, and envied him his princess.

Next day the princes were taking farewell, and the king said to them: “After this time I will not let you go again. In a year and a day I wish to see your princesses; then we will celebrate the weddings.”

The two elder brothers were shouting with joy, but Yarmil answered no word. They took leave of their father and went together to the edge of the town, where they separated; the eldest went to the east, the second to the west, but Yarmil to the mouse-hole, which opened quickly to give him a convenient passage. At the white castle the white lady gave him the white steed, which flew to the golden castle regardless of bit. There Yarmil descended, and the steed vanished like a dove in the clouds.

Full of hope Yarmil hastened to the twelfth chamber, for he trusted to find there his wondrous fair princess whose portrait he had taken to his father; but he found in the pan the ugly toad, which he put in his bosom, and now washed three times each day. In vain was all his labor, for the more he bathed the uglier grew the toad. Had it not been for the portrait he would have fled from the castle, and who knows what he might have done? Every day his strength decreased, and when the last day of the year drew near it is a wonder that he did not despair; for the toad had become now not only ugly beyond measure, but all mangy, so that he shivered when he looked at it. And now he must bring this to his father as his chosen one.

“My father will kill me!” cried he with grief, and threw himself on the couch. He thought what to do, but could come to no resolve. At last he reached to his bosom to look once more at the toad, hoping that at sight of it a happy thought might come; but a new surprise,—the toad was gone. Now he began to lament. He ran through the whole castle, searched every room, in the garden every tree and bush, but no trace of the toad.

At last he remembered the dish in the twelfth chamber, ran thither, but stopped on the threshold as if thunderstruck; for that poor chamber had become a real paradise, and in the middle of it stood a lady as beautiful, if not still more beautiful, than the portrait which he had carried to his father. In speechless amazement he looked at her, and who knows how long he might have stood there had she not turned to him and said: “My dear, thou hast suffered much; but I am not yet entirely free, and my people are not. Hurry now to the cellar; here is the key, and do to a hair what I command, or it will go ill with us. When the door is opened, thou wilt hear a terrible wailing; but listen to nothing, and speak not a word. Go down on the steps; below thou wilt find on a table twelve burning tapers, and before each taper one shirt. Roll up the shirts, quench the tapers, bring them all with thee.”

Yarmil took the key. When he opened the door of the cellar he heard such wailing that it is a wonder his heart did not break; but mindful of what had been said by his bride, he went boldly, descended the steps, rolled up the twelve shirts, quenching at each one, one taper; then he took the shirts and the tapers and hurried back. But how did he wonder when he saw a man nailed to the door by his tongue! The man begged Yarmil by all things to set him free, so that there was a strange feeling in Yarmil’s heart; but after short hesitation he mastered this feeling, and shut the door.

When he came to his bride and gave her the shirts, with the tapers, she said: “These twelve shirts are my twelve skins, in which I was a toad; and these twelve tapers burned me continually. Now I am liberated, it is true; but it will be three years before I shall be completely free. Know that I am the daughter of a mighty king, whom that foul monster, who is nailed to the cellar door by the tongue, changed into a toad because I refused him my hand. He is a wizard; but there is a witch more powerful than he. To punish him, she nailed him to that door; I, too, am still in her power. Now promise that for three years thou wilt tell no living person into what creature I was enchanted; but especially tell not how many skins I had.”

“Not even to my own mother!” exclaimed Yarmil, with excitement.

“It is just from thy own mother that thou must hide it most, for she is a witch, and hates thee; she knows long since that thou art three years with me, and most carefully will she try to learn from thee just what I have forbidden thee to tell.”

Yarmil was greatly grieved, but the princess soon cheered him, especially when she said: “It is now high time to go, so as to come to thy father’s at the right moment.” Then she took him by the hand, and led him down the stairs. In front of the castle a carriage with four white horses was waiting; when they entered, the horses rushed off with such speed that soon they passed the white castle. Yarmil was going to ask who the white lady was, when the princess said: “That is my mother, who has aided in my liberation.”

Soon they were at the great gate; and when they had passed it, and looked back, there was nothing but a mouse-hole. They arrived at the king’s castle just in the same moment with the two elder brothers and their princesses. But no one looked at them, for the eyes of all were turned to Yarmil’s bride.

The king was rejoiced most of all. He conducted the bride to the banqueting-hall, where there was a multitude of guests, and with tears of delight he exalted the happiness of his favorite son; but the elder princes and the queen were enraged, though they would not let it be known.

On the following day came the weddings of the three princes; though Yarmil and his bride were the last, still glory came only to them. At the banquet the guests drank continually to the health of his bride, so that the other princesses were purple from shame.

When Yarmil was almost reeling with delight, the queen drew near him, and praised with great flattery the beauty of his bride; but all at once she spoke of her origin, and in every way tried to discover whence she had come.

Yarmil at first evaded her questions; but when she urged him vehemently to tell from what land came his bride, he said: “Dear mother, I will do everything according to thy wish, but of this one thing ask me not.”

“I know well whence she comes,” smiled the queen; “I know, too, that thou didst not see her first in her present form.”

“Of course not; but I am proud that I liberated her.”

“Oh, my dear son!” exclaimed the queen, compassionately. “I pity thee greatly for letting thyself be so duped; but dost thou know that that beauty of hers is pure deceit?”

“Why?” asked Yarmil in fright.

“Because she is a witch,” whispered the queen in his ear, with an anxious look. “There is still time,” continued she, when she saw that Yarmil as it were believed, “to extricate thyself from her snares; and I wish to aid thee in every way. But thou must tell me what form she had before.”

Yarmil said that he would not tell, but the queen did not abandon her plan. When she could not discover from him directly, she began to name every kind of beast, looking with exceeding quickness at his face. Yarmil shook his head unceasingly, but was confused when she said “toad.”

“Then she was a toad before,” cried in horror the queen. “Ah! dear son, it is ill, very ill with thee; but it may be well yet if only I know in how many skins she was living.”

Again Yarmil answered decidedly that he would not tell, but the queen tried so long that at last she discovered. Now she knew what she wanted, and went from Yarmil. It is a wonder that he was not suspicious, but he said nothing to the princess.

Next morning a number of guests went with the king and his sons to the chase, and stayed in the forest till evening; thus the queen could act freely.

While the three princesses and the remaining guests were walking in the garden, she stole into the chamber of Yarmil’s bride, found the twelve shirts and the tapers, hid them in her own apartments, and in the evening, when the king had returned from the chase and all were sitting in the banqueting-hall at table, she went to the garden, where she burned the shirts and the tapers. At that moment Yarmil’s bride felt great faintness, so that she went for fresh air in the garden.

Yarmil hurried after her, but he had scarcely gone through the door, when she cried: “Woe is me, Yarmil! Thou hast told what I forbade thee to tell. Forget me; I must now to the glass mountain, from which there is no liberation.” Straightway she vanished in the darkness of night.

Yarmil remained a moment as if paralyzed; then he ran through the garden as if he had lost his wits, and called his bride by the most endearing names, but in vain. The guests ran out at the sound of his lamentation, and were greatly terrified when Yarmil told his misfortune. The queen also came quickly, and listened as if with terrified wonder to what had happened.

“That was a witch,” said she; “and ’tis well that other mishaps have not come.”

But the king was grieved more than all, and put an end to the rejoicing. Next day the two elder brothers went away with their brides, and poor Yarmil stayed home alone. In vain did his father try to comfort him; in vain did he promise that he would go himself to seek another bride for him. Yarmil was not to be consoled; and when the first onrush of sorrow had passed, he resolved to go to the glass mountain for his bride.

“In what direction wilt thou go?” objected his father. “While I live no one has heard of a glass mountain.”

“Still I will go,” said Yarmil, firmly. “It will come to the same whether I perish on the road or at home; in any event I shall die of disappointment.”

The king tried in all ways to dissuade him from going, but Yarmil would not let him talk. He mounted his horse, dropped the reins, and let him go whithersoever he would. He travelled long in this objectless way, hither and thither; but at last he saw that he must act differently if he meant to reach the glass mountain. But now came his real trouble; for wherever he asked about the glass mountain, people stared at him, and said that there was no such mountain in the world. Yarmil did not let himself be frightened; and now he galloped the more eagerly on his horse, and asked the more carefully everywhere. He had passed through towns without number, but still no one knew of a glass mountain. At last he heard the name.

In a certain town there was a juggler,—a showman with every kind of wonder. Yarmil was just going past him at the moment when he cried out: “The witch with her twelve daughters on the glass mountain!”

Yarmil called the juggler aside and said: “Here are ten goldpieces, tell me where the glass mountain is.”

“I am a poor man,” said the juggler, honestly, “and need these goldpieces greatly; but I know nothing of the glass mountain.”

“Nor in what country it is?” asked Yarmil, impatiently.

“I know that,” answered the man. “It is in the east, but they say it is very far off; and besides, they say that no one can go within twenty miles of it.”

Yarmil threw the ten goldpieces into the juggler’s cap, and putting spurs to his horse galloped off to the east. Many a time did the sun rise and set before he reached the glass mountain. But what good did it do him to go there? Around the mountain flowed an immensely great river, and on the bridge which was across it stood on guard three very fierce giants.

Yarmil’s courage fell. That moment the white lady from the white castle appeared suddenly before him and said: “Bind thy horse’s hoofs with thy coat, and go very carefully over the bridge. The giant who stands on watch will see thee only when thou art in front of him, and will start after thee; but throw behind this dust and nothing will harm thee. Do the same for the second and third giant.” She gave him three packages of dust, and said: “Beyond the river is a mill in which they give a witch to grind. Ask the miller for a night’s lodging; he will give it thee, and invite thee to supper. Towards the end of the supper the cook will bring him a roast cock, and to that he will not invite thee; he eats it all himself. The bones of it he leaves on the plate and the cook must throw them under the wheel; but tell her to hide them for thee. And when it will be midnight, go to the glass mountain and put the bones before thee; but be careful to save one till thou art on the summit, then throw that last one back over thy head.”

The moment the lady had finished, she disappeared. Yarmil sprang from his horse, tore his coat into four pieces, and with them muffled the feet of his horse; then he mounted and rode cautiously to the bridge. The first giant was sitting with his back to him and dozing. Yarmil passed him safely; but that moment the giant woke, and howled with a terrible voice to him to come back. Here Yarmil threw the dust behind, and that moment there was such darkness that it hid the giant completely. The same happened with the second and third giant, and Yarmil crossed the river safely. Not far off was the mill, and the miller stood just on the threshold.

“What dost thou wish here?” growled he at Yarmil.

“Oh, grant me a night’s lodging,” said Yarmil; “I am a traveller from distant lands.”

“I’ll give thee nothing,” answered the miller, roughly, “for if I did I should lose my place.”

Yarmil begged again, and begged so long that the miller asked: “Whence art thou?” Yarmil told him; and the miller, meditating awhile, said: “Well, if thou art the son of so powerful a king, I will give thee a night’s lodging; for we are from the same country, and I knew thy father very well.”

Then he led him to a sitting-room; and since it was just dark, he asked him to supper. Yarmil watched continually to see if the cock would soon come to the table, and he had not long to wait. The miller grew sullen, and without speaking a word ate the cock. Yarmil went out, and pressing a few goldpieces into the hands of the cook, begged her to hide the bones of the cock for him. The moment the cook saw the goldpieces she was glad to agree.

When the miller had picked the cock he called the cook and ordered her strictly to throw the bones under the wheel. The cook took the plate and motioning as if she had thrown them into the water, put them very adroitly into her apron; when all were asleep she gave them to Yarmil. He waited quietly till the approach of midnight, then he went out cautiously and made for the glass mountain with his horse. Full of expectation he took out the first bone and put it on the mountain; and behold! in a moment a step was made so that he could walk comfortably on it, and so it happened with every bone. Yarmil was already at the summit and only one bone remained to him; this he threw with all his power over his head, and in a twinkle there was a pleasant highway along which his horse ran after him with ease.

All wearied, Yarmil fell down at the castle, in which lived the sorceress with the twelve princesses her daughters, and he soon fell asleep. When he woke the sun was high in the heavens; and before he could think what further to do, his own princess came to him.

“I told thee,” said she, reproachfully, “to forget me; but thou didst not obey.”

“Hide me somewhere quickly from the sorceress; in the night we will flee.”

“Simple man!” said the princess smiling. “She knows long ago that thou art here; rather go to her, but be polite beyond measure. At dinner, rise after each dish and walk through the room, otherwise thou wilt stay here for the ages.”

Yarmil had to obey. When he came to the sorceress he bowed low before her, and said: “Great mighty lady, I have come for my bride.”

“I will give her to thee,” smiled the sorceress, “but first thou must serve me three years.”

“I am glad to do everything thou mayest desire,” said Yarmil bowing; and the sorceress answered graciously, inviting him at once to the table, to which just then one of the princesses brought the first dish. Yarmil ate with a relish; but when he had finished, he said to the sorceress: “Permit me, great mighty lady, to walk a little. I have travelled so much that I fear my legs will lose their power.”

“Oh, walk if it please thee,” answered the sorceress, but her eyes glittered with anger. And Yarmil did the same after each dish, and the sorceress was ready to split from rage. Next day she gave him a wooden axe and saw, and said: “Thou must clear all that forest over there, or be the son of Death.”

Yarmil took the axe and the saw, and went on. In the forest he threw himself on the ground and thought of death; for such a stretch of forest no man could clear alone, still less with such tools. At midday his princess brought him dinner.

“Ah!” scolded she, “thou art not working diligently.”

“Why trouble myself for nothing?” sighed Yarmil.

“Only be of good courage,” said the princess, comforting him. “It is not so bad to-day; it will be worse to-morrow.”

Then she gave him dinner; and when Yarmil had eaten, he put his head on her lap and fell asleep soundly. Then the princess took out of her bosom some kind of powder, and muttering mysterious words she threw it in the air. And wonder of wonders! in the twinkle of an eye invisible hands began to fell the aged trees, cut, split, and pile, so that in a short time the whole forest was felled.

Now Yarmil woke up, and hurried with the princess to the castle. The sorceress praised him; she suppressed her rage with difficulty, and said: “Thou hast worked out thy first year in order.”

Next day the sorceress gave him a spade and a wheelbarrow, and said: “Thou must carry away that mountain out there, or be the son of Death.”

Yarmil went with his tools to the hill, but when there he threw himself on the ground, for a thousand men would not have been able to carry off the hill in ten years. At midday his princess brought him dinner, and said: “Oh, thou art working as diligently as yesterday!”

“I am,” sighed Yarmil.

“Only be of good cheer,” said the princess, comforting him. “To-day it is not so bad; it will be worse to-morrow.”

When Yarmil had eaten, he put his head on her lap and fell asleep. The princess again threw into the air a powder of some kind, muttering mysterious words; and straightway unseen hands began to work so vigorously that in a short time the hill was carried away.

Then Yarmil woke up, and hurried to the sorceress to tell her he had done what she had commanded. She flamed up in anger, but nevertheless said: “Thou hast worked the second year of thy service in order.”

Next day she gave him a tailor’s thimble, and said: “Thou must bail out that fish-pond, or be the son of Death.”

Yarmil took the thimble and went. At the fish-pond, however, he threw himself on the ground and waited for the princess. She came sooner than usual; and when Yarmil, strengthened with food, had fallen asleep with his head on her lap, she threw powder in the air, muttering mysterious words. Soon the water began to disappear from the fish-pond. Now she roused Yarmil, and said to him: “Draw thy sword, and give good care. When all the water is gone from the pond the sorceress will take the shape of a rain-storm, and try to destroy us; but look well at the darkness, and where it is blackest strike there with thy sword.”

Yarmil promised to do so, and had barely drawn his sword when a black darkness rushed from the castle,—but almost on the ground, so that Yarmil could strike the blackest spot with ease. At that moment the darkness turned into the sorceress, and Yarmil’s sword stuck in her heart. With fearful cursing, she fell to the earth and died. Yarmil hurried to the castle with the princess, mounted his horse, and rushed off at a swift gallop.

He had to travel far before he came to his father’s castle; but to make up, there was joy unspeakable at the happy meeting. The queen was terrified when she saw them, and she had reason; for when Yarmil told all to his father the king gave her to be burned without mercy.

When the feasting was over Yarmil set out with his wife on the journey to their kingdom. When they came to the mouse-hole it was no longer a mouse-hole, but a magnificent gate leading to a great city, in the middle of which stood a golden castle on a hill; and in that city there were multitudes of people everywhere, and in the castle throngs of courtiers and servants, who greeted with mighty applause their master and mistress, thanking Yarmil at the same time for their liberation.

Now followed feasting, which lasted for eight whole days; and when the feasting was over they all lived happily beyond measure, because the royal pair were goodness itself.

Go to notes

THE CUIRASSIER AND THE HORNED PRINCESS.

IN a certain town were encamped a regiment of cuirassiers, and they had a very unpleasant life. Twelve men of them agreed to desert,—three sergeants and nine from the ranks. They carried out their plan; and when they had gone a good distance, one said to the rest: “Let us look, brothers, and see if we are not pursued.” Another dismounted, and climbed a high tree,—“Oh! they are searching; but they will not overtake us, for we are far in advance of them.” Then he came down, mounted his horse, and all rode rapidly on,—rode till dusk. Then the chief man said: “Where shall we go for the night, brothers? Around here we see nothing but mountains and forests.”

One of them climbed a tree again to look for a light. He saw one, and called to his comrades, “Look out! We will ride in the direction in which I throw this sword, for I see a light there.”

All rode toward the light, and came to a very large building in the wild mountains. At the first glance they saw it was an enormous castle, which was open. They entered the court, led their horses to the stable,—where oats were ready for twelve horses,—and then went themselves into a hall where a table was laid for twelve persons, so that all might sit down and eat; but there was not a living soul to be seen.

“Brothers,” said one of them, “may we touch this food and drink?”

“Why not?” said the chief. “What if we have to pay a few ducats for the entertainment?”

They sat down, and ate with good relish. After they had eaten and drunk, an old sorceress slipped in and saluted them, saying: “Good evening, gentlemen. I greet you in this our famous castle. Did the supper taste well?”

“We ate with pleasure,” answered one in the name of all, “only we were a little afraid how it would end.”

“Fear not, fear not, I am glad ye are strengthened after the long ride,” said the sorceress; and then she said further: “Now of course ye will need good beds, so as to refresh yourselves with grateful sleep. In the next chamber are twelve beds and twelve caskets. Lie on the beds prepared for you, but let no man dare, on pain of great punishment, to look at the caskets, which are unlocked.”

All went to the next chamber; the sorceress gave them good-night and went out through the opposite door. In the morning when they rose everything was well prepared for them,—basins with water and towels, and food for each man. After breakfast they spoke of the good cheer which they had not expected to find in the castle. They spoke of various subjects till they came to the caskets, and the splendid things that must be therein. Some expressed great curiosity; some were heard to say that they could not refrain till evening from looking in the caskets; others warned their comrades not to do that which they might regret.

They had a pleasant time all day at the castle, an excellent dinner, a good lunch, a splendid supper. After supper they went to bed. The sun was shining brightly through the windows next morning, but no man was stirring.

The chief rose and called the others, saying, “It is time to be up.” Only two gave answer; the rest did not move. These three went to the beds and found their comrades lifeless. All were terrified, and went to the stable to look at their horses. In the stable they found the nine dead horses, of the nine dead men.

“What shall we do?” asked one of them. “We must leave this place where our comrades have perished; nothing can comfort us again.”

They returned to the hall where breakfast was ready for only three. They sat down and ate. After eating, the sorceress came again, and said: “Ye see, my friends, that sinful curiosity has cost those nine men their lives. They could withstand it no longer, rose at midnight, opened the caskets, and looked at the contents; scarcely had they lain down again when sudden death overtook them. Had they followed my advice, as ye have, all might have had a pleasant time, and lived joyously here a whole year. Now I see by your faces that nothing can comfort you here, and that ye would gladly go away.”

“Yes,” answered one, “we fear to remain longer in this place, where our comrades died a sudden death.”

“There is nothing to fear,” said the sorceress; “but since it is unpleasant for you, I will not keep you. Go where ye like, but before going each may look without fear or danger in his casket, and take the things inside to remember me by; they may be useful.”

The men were afraid at first to open the caskets, having before their eyes the sad example of their comrades; but when the sorceress assured them again and again that they might open them without fear and take out the contents, they grew bold and opened them. The first took from his casket a cap, which the sorceress said had such power that whoever put it on his head no man could see him. The second drew from his casket a mantle, and whoever put it on, the sorceress said, could fly through the air as high as he wished. The third took a purse which had the power that whenever it was shaken ten ducats were in it.

The sorceress bade them good-by. They thanked her for the hospitality and useful presents, and saddling their horses, rode away from that castle with the Lord God.

They travelled long, and on the road kept telling what a good time they would have with their gifts. At last they came to a large town, took up their lodging at an inn, and asked what there was strange in the place. The innkeeper answered: “Nothing, unless it be that we have a princess immeasurably fond of playing cards, and who says that no one is able to play with her. She vanquishes every comer, and then has him flogged out of the castle.”

The man who had the purse thought, “Wait a while, I’ll settle thy play.” He made ready straightway, and went to the castle. He had himself announced, and declared that he wished to play with the princess. Meanwhile the other two ate and drank well in the inn.

The princess was glad to find some one again with whom to play cards and whom she might overcome. She had him brought in without delay. The game began. The man lost; but he didn’t mind that, for whenever he lost he shook the purse and had ten ducats again. So he kept losing and shaking the purse till the princess was astonished, and thought to herself: “Where dost thou get all these ducats, good man? Thou hast not a treasury at thy side, and still thou hast plenty of money. How dost thou get it?”

She watched him and saw that he shook the purse on his knee, from which he took the ducats. She had already won a great bag of ducats, but still was not able to win all he had. She kept thinking how to get that magic purse. “Now let us rest a little,” said she, and went to the next room, from which she brought two goblets of wine. One she gave him and drank the other herself, for they were tired and needed refreshment. Her wine was pure, but in his she put a sleeping-powder. She drank to his health, and he emptied his goblet at a draught. After a while he was so very drowsy that he slipped from the seat, dropped under the table, and fell soundly asleep. That was his misfortune. The princess took the magic purse and gave him one like it containing ten ducats.

When he woke up the princess said to him: “Now let us play again.” They played while he had ducats. When the ducats were gone he shook and shook the purse, but in vain. The princess said: “Well, my dear man, since thou hast no money, go. But that disgrace which I have put on others I will not put on thee. I will not have thee flogged out of the castle because I have won much money from thee; go in peace.”

He went to his friends in great trouble. They greeted him from afar, and called out: “Well, how didst thou prosper?”

“Oh, badly, very badly, brothers; I no longer have the purse; I lost that.”

“Oh, comrade, that is bad; how shall we live now? We are in debt for food and drink, and have nothing to pay with.”

The one who had the magic mantle said: “Do ye know what, brothers? I’ll take a good vengeance on that wicked woman!”

“But how?” was the question.

He answered, “This is how I’ll do it. Let me have thy cap so that no one may see me, and I’ll take my mantle. When the princess is going to church I’ll seize her, fly with her through the air to desert regions, so far away that she will never be able to come home again.”

“Yes, that will be a just punishment for her,” said the two others. The third one immediately took the cap, wrapped the mantle around him, and waited for the princess. As she was going along the street he seized her, flew far away with her to wild mountains, and let her down there on the ground near a pear-tree. On that tree were beautiful pears.

The princess begged the man to climb the tree and shake it, so that she might have some of the fruit to eat. “I’ll gratify thee just once,” said he. But he was so cunning that he did not leave the cap or magic mantle on the ground, but took them up on the tree, hung them both on a limb, and shook the tree with all his might. The cap and the mantle fell to the ground before the pears. The princess put the cap on her head at once, wrapped the mantle around her, and was off in an instant,—sooner than the man on the tree had recovered from his fright.

He was now alone in the wild mountains. What was he to do? He stood motionless as the tree at his side, as if senseless from a thunderbolt; he had no longer magic cap or magic mantle. “Oh, where shall I go?” groaned he, and walked around on the mountains. In his trouble and fright he picked up some pears and ate them. Then other terrible miseries came upon him, for he had barely eaten the pears when unheard of gigantic horns grew out of his head, so that he could not walk through the woods nor turn around; the horns stopped him everywhere; he could barely crawl forward.

With great care and much struggling, he dragged himself over a bit of road and came to a deep ravine, in which a hermit lived whose name was Wind.

“Oh, friend,” said the man, “help me from the mountain, and take me home.”

Said Wind, “I am not strong enough to bear thee to thy home, but go to my brother; he is the strongest of us. He will take thee home quickly.”

“I should like to go to him, but I cannot move.”

“He is not far from here,—there, on that side; but go as well as thou art able. He will rid thee of those horns.”

The man pushed through as best he could, and came, covered with sweat, to another cave, in which the eldest Wind brother was living. He fell on his knees before Wind, and cried imploringly: “Be so kind as to bear me home!”

“I should like to help thee, my friend; but it is not so easy as may seem to thee. I must go to the Lord to ask with what force Wind may blow. If Wind may blow so trees will be torn out with their roots, thou canst reach home; if Wind blows but weakly, thou wilt not go there, for ’tis far. Wait a while; I’ll come back soon.”

Wind went to ask the Lord how hard he might blow, and the Lord commanded him to blow mightily.

When he returned, the man asked: “How is it?”

“Well,” said Wind, “I must blow mightily; thou wilt reach home. But knowest thou there is an apple-tree over there? Climb it, pluck an apple, cut it into four parts, and eat; thy great horns will fall off.”

The man was glad, climbed the apple-tree quickly, but the horns hindered him much. He plucked an apple and ate it; how soon was he free of the horns! He came down from the tree like a squirrel, and thought: “Oh, brother, thou’lt get back thy things!” As he was coming down he took more apples and put them in his pocket; then went to the pear-tree and took pears. Soon Wind caught him up, bore him off swiftly, and in a short time put him down in front of the inn where his friends were waiting impatiently. They were all very glad.

“Where wert thou?” asked they.

“Oh, I was where ye will not be to your dying day, brothers!”

“How didst thou prosper?”

“Badly, badly.”

“Where hast thou the cap and the mantle?”

“Oh, that woman took them from me!”

“Woe to us,—woe, passing woe! Now we have neither the purse, the cap, nor the mantle. We are beggared beyond reckoning.”

The innkeeper would not let them go because of their debt.

“What will become of us?” asked they in one voice.

The man whom Wind bore home said: “I have here noble and wonderful fruit which I brought from the wild mountains. One of you will take these pears to the street and sell them; but do not dare to sell them to any one save the princess when she is going home from church. For the people thou must put such a price that they will not buy; for the princess reduce the price so that she may buy.”

One of the men put the pears in a clean basket, covered them with a neat cloth, and went to the square through which the princess was wont to go to church and return. Soon she was coming out of the church, her servant following some steps behind. She saw the uncommonly beautiful pears from a distance, came up herself, and asked: “How many dost thou give for a copper?”

“Oh, these pears are not sold for copper coin! They are so splendid, and have such a flavor, that I can give only three for a ducat.”

The princess bought all, and gave them to her servant to carry; she had barely reached home, and sat near the table, when she took a golden knife, pared and ate with great relish a number of pears. She ate with such pleasure that she saw not how horns began to grow on her head after the first pear; and in a little while they had grown so much that she could not remain in the room. She went to the great supper-hall, but even there was forced to lie down on the floor, so broad and so lofty were her horns. She gave herself up to fearful lamentation and tears, so that all the servants and the king, her father, with the queen, her mother, ran in. All were horrified and wrung their hands, seeing the princess disfigured.

The king sent quickly for the doctors, who came in all haste from each corner and town. The servants ran to every place; each one in his excitement brought whomsoever he knew. The doctors met and shook their heads one after another; each said that in his life he had never seen nor had experience of such a case. They held a consultation, and at last decided to saw off the horns. They went to work, but in vain; they had barely sawed a piece, when it grew on again quickly, so that fright seized every one. The princess was so horrified and ashamed that she would have preferred to be out of the world; no man could help her. Then the king made proclamation that whoso would free the princess from the horns, would get her in marriage, and with her the whole kingdom.

Who was so glad now as the man with the apples? “Wait,” thought he; “my little bird, thou’lt sing as I whistle,—no man can help thee but me.”

He had fine clothes brought, and dressed as a doctor had himself announced at the palace. He was soon admitted, and began to speak to the princess, saying: “You must have angered God greatly, must have committed grievous sins, for which you are punished in this way. I expect to give you real help; but first of all you must tell me sincerely what you have done,—my aid has to be rendered in view of that.”

She confessed with weeping that she had been fond of playing cards; had outplayed all men, then had them flogged from the castle. The last time she had played with a stranger, from whom she had stolen a magic purse; and afterward she had stolen from another man a magic cap and mantle. No doubt the Lord had now punished her for that.

“Before we can think of a cure,” said the unknown physician, “you must return the stolen property.”

The princess had all the above-mentioned articles brought at once, and gave them gladly to the doctor, who promised to deliver them to the owners. “I will carry them away,” said he, “and bring my medicine, through which you will be freed from the horns.”

Half an hour later he returned, took her by the hand, looked at her tongue, and said: “Charming woman, you have eaten something, I suppose, from which these horns grew.”

The princess answered: “I don’t know that I have eaten anything harmful; I ate a few beautiful pears; with that exception I have never eaten any common food.”

“You must have eaten something,” said the doctor. “I have good medicine that will not fail; but I can only help you on condition that I receive the whole kingdom, with you in marriage, as our lord the king has proclaimed.”

The king and princess promised then that the proclamation would be carried out if he would free her from the horns. After these words he set about the cure. He took from his pocket an apple, and cut it into four parts; he told her to lie down, and gave her the first fourth of the apple. She was not able however to lie with comfort by reason of the horns. When she had eaten all the four quarters of the apple, the horns fell off at a blow. Then there was mighty gladness throughout the whole castle; every one rejoiced that the princess, the only daughter of the king, was free of her horns.

The king had the marriage contract drawn up, and soon after they celebrated the wedding, at which the two friends of the young king were present; and he promised that while they lived they should remain at his court as the very first lords.

There was eating and drinking at the wedding; and among other things they ate bread made from rye. But, Mark tell thou no lie.

Go to notes

THE TREACHEROUS BROTHERS.

THERE was a king, and he had seven sons,—young men strong and healthy as deer, except the seventh, the youngest, whose name was Jalmir. He was in his twentieth year, and still a nurse had to care for him as for a little child. It was pitiful to look at Jalmir; he was as shapely as a maiden, and beautiful as a spring day, still could not walk from weakness. How much the king had paid to doctors, quacks, and every kind of old woman, to cure him, but in vain! At last the afflicted father lost all hope that his dearest son would ever grow strong.

For this reason there reigned in the king’s palace deep distress, which was in no way to the taste of Jalmir’s brothers, especially since they could not hunt in the neighborhood. “What shall we do in future?” asked the eldest one day when they were resting in the forest after a hunt. “Let us go into the world.”

“Yes, yes!” answered all the others. They went home and laid their wishes before their father.

“What am I to do?” objected the king. “Jalmir is sickly; I shall be without aid in my old age.”

The sons agreed with him in this, but wheedled him so slyly that at last they received his consent to go out in the world. They rushed with rejoicing to the stable, chose the best horses, took what money they could, and that same day rode away from their father’s house at a gallop, without even saying good-by to their brother Jalmir. How strange was the feeling at the heart of the poor fellow when his nurse told him of this! He turned from her in silence; but under the pillow with which he covered his face he shed many tears. When it was growing dark the nurse hurried out of his chamber to chat with the servants. She began with the cook, and they talked till midnight was near before she knew it.

Meanwhile Jalmir was lying on his bed sadder than ever. This time he was not thinking of his bodily pain, but of his brothers who had left him without saying farewell; this troubled him most. He thought, “Shall I ever be well?” and some internal voice said that he would. Filled with hope he fell into a doze, and saw himself hunting on horseback, and hurling a spear at wild beasts as his brothers had done. All at once, and near midnight, a venerable man, with snow-white beard reaching to his waist, stood before the bed, and said: “Jalmir art thou sleeping?”

Jalmir started, opened his eyes, but saw no one. “That was a dream,” thought he. He meditated a while, and again closed his eyes. After a short time the old man stood before him again, and asked: “Jalmir art thou sleeping?” Jalmir opened his eyes quickly, but saw no one. “That was only a dream then,” said he to himself, and again closed his eyes. But soon the old man stood before him and inquired a third time: “Jalmir art thou sleeping?”

“I am not,” said Jalmir, and rubbing his eyes, saw the old man at his bed.

“Rise in the morning,” said the old man, “provide thyself with everything for the road, and go through the southern gate. Outside the town thou wilt find under an old pear-tree a white horse; mount that horse and ride after thy brothers.” Then the old man vanished in a twinkle.

Jalmir rubbed his eyes again, and looked around his chamber, but there was no old man anywhere. “It was only a dream,” thought he. Again he lay down and slept soundly; but when he woke in the morning he felt so well that he sprang from his bed, and jumped around the chamber from gladness. His nurse returned at that moment; but when she saw that her weakly charge was well, she ran to the king, and before she had reached the door, cried: “Jalmir is well!”

The king went out, and asked in a sad voice: “Hast thou lost thy senses?”

“He is really well,” said the nurse with greater rejoicing; but the king shook his head.

Meanwhile Jalmir recollected his supposed dream, and ascribed his recovery to that majestic old man. “Since he has cured me, I must obey him,” said he to himself. He dressed quickly and went to the king. When the king saw him he believed the nurse, and, thoroughly happy, fell on the young man’s neck; but he was astonished still more when Jalmir said: “Now, father, let me go; I must follow my brothers.”

“And thou wilt leave me?” complained the father.

“I must,” answered Jalmir seriously, and he told his dream. The king shook his head incredulously, and at first would not even hear of the departure of his favorite son; but at last he consented with tears. Jalmir made ready for the journey without delay.

The king gave him a carriage and four servants, he took money, and departed straightway. Outside the town he dismissed the servants, giving them the carriage and the horses, and walked on alone to the pear-tree, where a splendid white steed was waiting, stamping the ground impatiently. “Sit on me, quickly,” said he with the voice of a man, “or we shall be late.”

Jalmir sprang to his back and they went on, not on the ground though, but through the air. In a short time the white steed asked: “Dost thou see thy brothers?”

“I do not see,” answered Jalmir.

“But the hill on which they are?”

“Neither do I see that.”

“Thou wilt soon see it,” said the steed, and hastened his course. “Dost thou see the hill now?” asked he after a time.

“I see,” answered Jalmir, “and on it are six ants.”

“Those are thy brothers,” said the white steed. “But now listen; we shall soon come up with them, but do not make thyself known. We shall pass the night in an inn. Thy brothers will feast, but will not be able to pay, for they lost all their money foolishly yesterday. Pay for them; in the morning we shall go farther.”

Jalmir promised to do this, and then the white steed came down to the earth. Soon they overtook the brothers, who did not know Jalmir; and indeed, how could they in that stately, fiery hero recognize their weakly brother. Jalmir bowed to them courteously, and asked permission to travel in their company.

“But where art thou going?” inquired one of the brothers.

“To see the world,” answered Jalmir.

“We too,” cried the others; “so thou must go with us.”

Jalmir bowed to them, and in silence agreed with a nod. But his brothers all gave him their hands, and soon began to tell him how delightfully they had passed the previous day. Jalmir did not, however, find much that was pleasant in it, and frowned.

“Art sorry that thou wert not there?” asked one of the brothers. “Never mind, we can have such days yet without number.”

With that they came to an inn. The innkeeper, seeing through the window so many lords, ran out and took the horses. When he took the white steed, Jalmir asked: “Hast thou a stable apart?”

“Yes; and such a one!” boasted the innkeeper.

“Then put my horse in it alone,” said Jalmir, “for he is very vicious.”

Then he followed his brothers to a room where they were already seated at a table, and calling with terrible uproar on the innkeeper for wine. In a short time the innkeeper brought all that he had, and the brothers drank, sang, shouted, and rioted till the inn trembled; but Jalmir barely drank for one, because he was sick from the action of his brothers. But how grieved was he when one of the brothers said: “This is a different life from being at home with that grumbling father and that sickly brother.”

Gradually one after the other dropped under the table, overcome by wine. When all were asleep Jalmir said to the innkeeper: “Be careful that no harm comes to them; I will sleep a little too.”

Then he was going to lie on a bench near the fire. “Do not,” said the innkeeper; “I have a bed ready for thee. Come with me.”

Jalmir, after useless refusals, followed him at last; but before he lay down he visited the white steed to see if he had plenty of oats and water.

When the brothers woke in the morning they looked for Jalmir with a great outcry: “It would have been a nice thing if he had run away from us!” cried one to another. “Who would pay?—for I have no money.”

Soon Jalmir came to the room and told them to travel farther; all was settled.

“Thou art ours,” said they. All embraced him,—’tis a wonder they did not suffocate him. Escaping from the brothers, Jalmir went to his horse. The brothers followed his example, and soon the inn was far behind.

“Listen,” said the white steed to Jalmir, when the brothers had gone ahead. “In the evening we shall come to a castle, in which lives a sorceress with her seven daughters; they will take your horses, and lead you to a chamber. The sorceress will bring you wine after supper, but drink not. What will take place later, thou wilt see.”

“Why loiter so?” called one of the brothers suddenly to Jalmir.

“I am coming,” answered he; and the white steed soon galloped so that in a few moments he was ahead of the brothers.

“Slower or thou wilt leave us!” cried the brothers; and the white steed waited for them of his own accord. Soon they entered a forest, rode and rode, but there was no end to the forest; only in the evening did they come out on a plain. In the middle of the plain was a beautiful castle. “Oh, now we are in luck,” said the brothers, and they began to rejoice.

They galloped into the court of the castle, and were still more rejoiced when seven princesses came forth to meet them. They sprang from their horses in a moment to give a courteous salute; but how did they wonder when the princesses took their horses by the bridles and led them to the stable. Jalmir begged the youngest princess, who had taken his steed, to put the horse in a stable apart, for he was very vicious.

She did as he wished; he saw this, and only then did he go to the supper chamber, where his brothers and the six princesses were already sitting at a great table, covered with the daintiest dishes. He came to them with the youngest princess, but ate very little, though she urged him continually; but when the vile old woman who served them brought wine and poured it to each one in a golden goblet, Jalmir seized his goblet eagerly, but did not drink the wine. He poured it out on one side.

By degrees the brothers began to doze; at last one after another they fell asleep. Jalmir suspected that the old woman had drugged them,—which was true,—and that she had no good thoughts regarding them; therefore he feigned sleep so that in the hour of need he might aid his brothers. Soon after the old woman came and put away each brother with his partner on a couch, of which there were seven in the adjoining chamber; then she went out, but returned straightway with a great broom, and began to strike the brothers. First she struck the eldest, but he moved not; when she had finished with the six she came to Jalmir, and said to herself: “If six are asleep, so is the seventh.” She went out, but soon returned with sulphur in her hand, and burned it under the nose of each brother. She began with the eldest, and as not one of them moved, she said when she reached Jalmir: “If six are asleep, so is the seventh.”

She went out, but came back bringing pitch, which she burned on the breast of each brother. She began with the eldest, and as none of them sighed, she said when she reached Jalmir: “If six are asleep, so is the seventh; now I may cut off their heads without fear.”

Jalmir quivered; and when the old woman went out, he sprang quickly from the couch, put each of his brothers in the place of a princess and did the same with himself. The old woman returned with a sword, but without a light, and cut off the heads of the seven princesses; then she went out. Jalmir sprang up in a moment and tried to rouse his brothers, but in vain. What anguish the poor fellow suffered; only towards morning did the brothers wake and look in terror at the dead bodies of the princesses. But Jalmir exclaimed in a voice of despair: “Let us flee!” and rushed forth; the brothers followed him. In the stable they untied their horses, and springing on them hurried in a wild chase from the castle and across the broad plain.

The sorceress soon saw their flight, and pursued; but as they had crossed the boundary of her castle lands she had power over them no longer, and with work undone was forced to go home, where she cursed herself above the dead bodies of her daughters. The brothers rode without stopping, farther and farther, till at last the castle disappeared from their sight; then they made the first halt to rest and inquire of Jalmir what had been done to them. When they heard that he had saved them from certain death, they fell upon his neck and cried: “Tell us who thou art, since thou hast done so much for us.”

“Who else but your brother Jalmir,” answered he, almost swimming in tears; and he pressed brother after brother to his breast. But how astonished was he when he saw that they were much colder to him than they had been when they knew him not! Still, they asked how he had recovered, why he had ridden after them, and what their father was doing. But gradually they grew silent and hung their heads. Beyond doubt it was not to their liking that just the youngest of them was so wise.

Jalmir also was silent, and his white steed dropped behind of his own accord. When the brothers could not hear him, he said to his master: “I told thee not to discover thyself, but thou didst not obey me. The results thou canst lay to thyself. In a few days we shall come to a mighty king; thou and thy brothers will enter his service. When in need come to me for advice.”

Jalmir stroked the white steed, and begged his forgiveness. From that time the brothers were no longer joyous as before, and kept noticeably aside from Jalmir. But since they had no money they wheedled him greatly whenever they saw an inn, since he always paid for them. After some days they came to a great city. Their first road, however, was to the inn, where they ate moderately but drank beyond measure; and now they began to do such senseless things that Jalmir went to his steed as quickly as possible to get consolation.

When the brothers were alone the eldest said: “I have had favors enough from that sickly brother; to-morrow we will go to the king of this country and serve him. What do ye think?”

“We will all go with thee,” cried the others; but suddenly they were confused, for Jalmir had returned.

“Where are ye going?” inquired he. “I will go with you.”

The brothers answered him sullenly, but Jalmir said he would go. Towards evening, when the brothers had had a good sleep, they went to the king, who made them men of his court without delay. Now they had a good living, large pay, and almost nothing to do; but as an offset they were still not at rest, for Jalmir was always a thorn in their eyes, especially since the friendship of the king for him increased every day.

Once when the brothers, from idleness, were examining the chambers of the king’s castle, they came to one in which were all kinds of books, small and great, piled up to the ceiling. They fell to reading these books with great eagerness.

“Brothers,” cried one of them suddenly, “I read here that the king has not a bird in his kingdom.”

“Is this true?” exclaimed the others in wonder; “we have not noticed it.”

“But know ye,” asked the eldest, “to what use we may put this?” All shook their heads. “Listen,” said he in a whisper; “we will tell the king that Jalmir knows about birds, and to send him for them.”

“And the king will do so at once,” said the brother who had read of the birds, “for here is written the great cost of the birds eaten on the king’s table in a year.”

They stopped reading at once and went straight to the king, to whom they told what they thought. “But, gracious king,” said the eldest, “thou must sharply insist, or Jalmir will excuse himself, saying that he knows nothing of birds.”

The king nodded graciously and sent for Jalmir. He came quickly, and the king said: “As thou knowest well I have no birds in my kingdom, therefore I command thee to bring them.”

“I, gracious king,” said Jalmir, in fright, “know nothing of birds.”

“Whether thou knowest or knowest not,” said the king, in sudden anger, “thou’lt get birds.” With that he waved his hand, and poor Jalmir went out with drooping head. Whither can he go? Who can help him in peril? He went straight to the white steed and complained.

“Grieve not,” said the steed; “at dusk we will go for the birds.”

Jalmir thanked the horse, and could hardly wait till evening. The moment the sun had disappeared behind the woods he was ready for the road; and when the first star had appeared in the sky he led out the white steed, sprang on his back, and flew off like the wind. “But where are we going?” inquired Jalmir of his steed on the way.

“To that sorceress in whose castle thou didst save thy brothers from death,” answered the horse.

“To that place!” cried Jalmir in fright.

“Have no fear,” said the steed, comforting him; “only do to a hair what I tell thee.”

The good steed now increased his speed so that he went like an arrow, and about an hour later he came to the ground at the castle of the sorceress. Jalmir sprang from him, and the steed said: “When thou art in the first chamber thou wilt see silver cages, and in them silver birds; in the second chamber will be golden cages with golden birds; in the third chamber diamond cages with diamond birds. Of all these touch nothing, or such a blow will fall that the whole castle will tremble, and the sorceress will seize thee to kill thee. But go to the fourth chamber; there take a wooden cage in which is a mean-looking bird, and hasten to me.”

Jalmir entered the first chamber with courage, but cautiously, and looking at nothing, went to the second chamber; there the glitter of gold dazzled him somewhat. When he opened the door to the third chamber he stood almost blind on the threshold; but quickly recovering, he shaded his eyes, ran to the fourth chamber, and seizing the cage with the bird in an instant, rushed out swift as an arrow. He sprang on the horse, which rose with him through the air in a moment. The sorceress burst out of the castle, and cursing fearfully because she could not stop him, screamed: “But thou wilt come here again!”

When the white steed was beyond the boundary of the castle land, he said to Jalmir: “Open the cage and let the bird fly.”

“But shall I not bring it to the king?”

“Only do what I ask,” said the steed, with such a stern voice that Jalmir obeyed without thinking.

It was yet night when they reached home. Jalmir tied the horse in the stable and went to his room to strengthen himself with sleep, but he did not sleep long. The morning dawn had barely shown itself when in the king’s garden was heard such a loud and cheerful singing of birds that all the people were soon on their feet, and earlier than any the king. At the first moment he was so astonished that he asked whence these wonderful creatures had come.

“Royal Grace,” said one of the brothers, “thou didst send Jalmir for them.”

“True,” said the king, as he bethought himself; “but where is Jalmir?”

A courtier soon brought him, and the king fell on his neck from very joy. He was now really dear to the king; but for that reason was held in more hatred by his brothers.

“How can we get rid of him?” asked the brothers when they were alone.

“Maybe we can read something else,” said one of them.

“Very good,” answered all, at once; and they hurried to the chamber in which so many books were collected, and it was not long before one of the brothers cried out: “The king has no beasts, and they cost him more than the birds, since he uses many more of them in a year.”

“Then let Jalmir go for them,” said the sixth brother, smiling maliciously; and they went straight to the king, to whom they told their minds. The king nodded graciously; dismissed them, called Jalmir and said: “I have no beasts in my kingdom; and since they cost me much in a year, I command thee to get me beasts.”

“I, gracious king,” said Jalmir in wonder, “know of none.”

“Thou knowest well,” said the king in anger, “for thy brothers told me.”

“Did they?” said Jalmir in astonishment. “Well, I will try;” and he went to his white steed, to whom he told everything.

“Be not down-hearted,” said the steed, comforting him. “Come to me in the evening; we will go for the beasts.”

When it was dark the good steed was flying through the air. “But where shall we go?” asked Jalmir.

“To the sorceress from whom we got the birds,” answered the steed.

“But I am afraid that she will catch me,” said Jalmir.

“Fear not,” said the steed; “only do to a hair what I tell thee.” When he came to the ground in front of the castle, he said: “In the first chamber thou wilt see a beast with silver hair, tied with silver chains; in the second chamber a beast with golden hair and golden chains; in the third, one with pearl hair and pearl chains. Touch not any of these, or a blow will fall so that the whole castle will tremble, and the sorceress will seize thee to kill thee. But go to the fourth chamber; there seize an ugly dog that is tied with a ragged rope, and hurry to me.”

Somewhat timidly, but all the more carefully, did Jalmir pass the first, second, and third chamber, shading his eyes with his hands so the glitter of the silver, gold, and pearl might not blind him. When he entered the fourth chamber he broke the rope, seized the dog in his arms, rushed out, and swift as an arrow sprang on the horse, which rose in the air. And it was high time; for scarcely had he sat on the horse when the sorceress ran out after him. When she was unable to stop him, she cursed fearfully, and screamed: “But thou wilt come here again!”

When the steed had sprung over the boundary of the castle land, he said: “Now let the dog go.”

Jalmir obeyed at once, for he was sure the steed gave good counsel. When they came home, dawn was already appearing; still Jalmir lay on the bed, for he was greatly wearied. He did not sleep long, however; for barely had the dawn come when there was a noise in the castle, in the town, and outside the town, as if the earth were breaking. The king sprang in wonder to the window. But how astonished was he! Right in the garden he saw deer, stags, rabbits; on the trees squirrels; on the ground under the trees mice; in short, such myriads of beasts that his eyes danced. In the king’s garden it was pleasant for the beasts; but in the town and outside the town the people killed them, chased wildly after them, and threw stones at them. This displeased the king; and he issued an order that all beasts belonged to him, and that no man should dare to injure them. Then he went to Jalmir, thanked him cordially, and expressed his friendship with an ardent embrace.

The whole kingdom was pleased with the beasts, but Jalmir’s brothers were not pleased.

“What shall we do with him?” asked the eldest of the others. “Instead of getting rid of him we have brought him into still greater favor with the king.”

“But let us go and read again.”

“Yes, yes,” said a third; and all hurried off to the well-known room. They had read a long time when at last one cried out: “The king has no wine, and of course wine costs him money.”

“Then let Jalmir go for it,” answered the eldest, quietly; “and he must get luck from hell if he comes back.”

They went straight to the king, and very insinuatingly they told him that Jalmir might easily supply him with wine.

“Then he will do it;” and dismissing them graciously he had Jalmir summoned, and told him his wish.

“Gracious king,” answered Jalmir, “I know nothing of wine, but I will go and see.”

The king was somewhat angry, thinking surely that Jalmir was unwilling, and thereupon said: “Thou wilt answer to me with thy head.” Jalmir, bowing in silence, went out to the steed.

“Fear not,” said the steed; “in the evening we will go for the wine.” The moment it was dark the kind steed shot away with Jalmir through the air.

“Where are we going this time?” asked Jalmir, a little frightened.

“To the sorceress from whom we got the birds and the beasts. But now pull a hair from my tail, and one from my mane; from the first make a rope three hundred yards long, from the other a net large enough to contain thee.”

Jalmir did in silence according to the steed’s words; and to his astonishment, before they came to the castle the rope and the net were finished.

“Now attend to my words,” said the steed when he had come to the ground. “Tie one end of the rope to my foot and the other to the net, take the net with thee and put it on the door of the cellar, to which thou must go down on three hundred steps. In the cellar thou wilt see vessels with silver and gold and diamond hoops; pay no heed to them, or a blow will fall, and it will be ill with thee. Go to the farthest part of the cellar. There thou wilt see in a niche a little vessel with wooden hoops, take that quickly and hurry to me; but if thou art not able to come, just spring into the net and I will help thee.”

Jalmir did everything according to the words of the steed. It was as clear as white day in the cellar from the silver, gold, and diamond hoops, so that he soon saw the little vessel in the niche; but when he caught it, it is a wonder that he did not fall under its weight. With a mighty effort he carried it to the steps; but there he struck his foot against a vessel, and such a blow fell that the castle trembled from its foundation to the highest points of its tower. Jalmir, however, did not grow weak; he sprang up like an arrow over the three hundred steps and jumped into the net.

Meanwhile, the sorceress flew out of the castle and sprang at the steed; but the steed got her down, and so thrashed her with his feet that he did not leave a sound bone in her body. At the same time he wound up the rope so nicely that in a little while he had drawn up the net containing Jalmir. “Sit quickly on me,” said he. Jalmir mounted in a moment, keeping the vessel carefully in his arms. The steed rose in the air and flew like lightning, because the sorceress who had picked herself from the ground was chasing him. But soon they had the boundary of the castle land behind them, so that they had no further need to strain their powers.

When they reached home the steed was drooping wearily to the earth, so that Jalmir had to support him in going to the stable. Jalmir was barely able to go to his own room; but first, according to the command of the steed, he left the cask of wine at the door of the king’s chamber, then he lay on his bed and was soon asleep.

When the king opened the door of his chamber in the morning he saw the cask. “This must be wine,” said the king, rejoicing; and taking off the head, he tried it. “It’s wine; it’s wine!” rejoiced he; and calling the people of the castle, he drank a health with them all.

“But what is this?” wondered they; “we have taken ten kegs of wine out already, and still it comes.”

“This must be an enchanted cask,” said the king, and began to laugh. Then he said in serious tones: “Little cask, I should like to have red wine.” He drew some. And what a wonder! the wine was red. “I want yellow wine,” said the king; and yellow wine flowed out.

“In real fact, it is an enchanted cask,” said the king. “Oh, Jalmir,” cried he in delight, “how can I reward thee!”

“I have only obeyed thy command, gracious king,” answered Jalmir, who had just entered the room.

“Yes, thou hast done all that I commanded, and much more,” said the king; “therefore I make thee my son, and proclaim thee viceroy.”

All present broke out in tumultuous shouting, but Jalmir’s brothers were silent; they bit their lips and clinched their fists. The king, altogether joyous and full of tenderness, from success and from wine, arranged to have a seven day’s celebration in honor of the new viceroy. The people did not wait to have the order repeated, but began that very day, especially since they had plenty of food, and the wine which the enchanted cask gave them without stint. The new viceroy was greeted everywhere with shouts, and won at once the love of the people.

But his brothers were enraged all the more. Instead of going to the festivities they went to the room where the books were, and read as diligently as if they wished to become sages at once. This time, however, they were not able to find anything for a great while; but at last they read what they wanted.

“Now I have something for our darling viceroy!” cried one. “In the sea is a golden castle, and in the castle a princess, the most beautiful under the heavens. If our king would take her in marriage, he would grow young and lengthen his life.”

“Oh, that is splendid!” said all, rejoicing. “The king will surely send him for the princess, and darling Jalmir will either be drowned in the sea or run home to his father.”

When the feasting was over the brothers went to the king, who was, as it were, ill,—just the thing for them. “Gracious king,” said the eldest, insinuatingly, “we are always trying to prepare some pleasure for thee.”

“Indeed, I have need of it,” said the king; “old age and disease are pressing me more and more every day.”

“We have just found a remedy for those two evils,” said the brothers.

“But what is it,—tell me!” broke out the king, delighted. They told him what they had read.

“Well, Jalmir must take the road this very day,” cried the king; and calling Jalmir he explained his wish. Jalmir agreed in silence, but scarcely controlling his tears, hastened to his steed and fell on his neck, weeping.

“What is the matter now?” asked the steed. Jalmir told him all.

“Do not lose courage,” said the horse. “Go to the king, and ask him to give thee three hundred loaves of bread, three hundred kegs of wine, and three hundred beeves. Have all put into wagons, and then we will go for the princess.”

Jalmir went straightway to the king and asked for these. The king had all provided quickly, and promised him mountains and valleys if he would bring the princess. Jalmir took the road that very day, sitting on his good white steed, which this time did not fly through the air, but walked with slow step behind the wagons on which the loaves, the wine, and the beeves were carried. And many times did day and night change places before they came to the sea. Now they went along the shore; the white steed, going ahead with Jalmir, showed the road to the wagons.

Jalmir saw a great fish on the beach which was trying in vain to get back to the water. “Help it,” said the steed; and Jalmir, springing to the ground, helped the fish.

The fish sank under the water, but soon came to the surface and said to Jalmir: “Wait, I must reward thee. Take this whistle, and shouldst thou need aught from me, blow.”

Jalmir took the whistle from the fish’s lips, gave thanks, and sat again on his steed. After a time they heard as it were distant thunder. “What is that?” asked he of the horse.

“We shall soon be at the end of our journey,” said the steed; “those are giants talking.”

In a short time Jalmir saw three giants lying on the beach. When he came up they rose, and now he saw their stature. When he looked in their faces he had to bend back his head as if looking at the highest tower.

“What is the good word?” roared one of them, so that Jalmir had to cover his ears.

“I bring three hundred loaves of bread, three hundred kegs of wine, and three hundred slaughtered oxen,” answered he.

“That is good of thee,” said the giants, nodding their heads with satisfaction; and they rushed to the wagons in which the things were placed. They built a fire, and stuck the oxen on great spits to roast; then they went to the bread and wine, and soon had half inside themselves. A great eagle settled down near by, and looked wistfully at the beeves. Jalmir cut off a quarter and gave it to the eagle.

“Thank thee!” said the eagle. “I will help thee in time;” and she rose in the air with the quarter.

The giants did not leave the oxen very long over the fire; and when they had finished, they said to Jalmir: “Now tell us thy wish; well do we know that ye little worms of the earth do nothing for nothing.”

“I have no wish for myself,” said Jalmir; “but my master has sent me to bring the princess from the golden castle which stands out in the sea.”

“That one over there?” asked the other giant, pointing with his finger to the sea.

Jalmir looked around and saw for the first time a magnificent castle, which gleamed in the waves like the rising sun. “Yes,” replied Jalmir.

“We will take thee to it,” said the first giant; “but will the princess go with thee?”

“I will ask her,” said Jalmir; “but how will ye take me there?”

“Thou wilt soon see,” said the giants; and they took pieces of a cliff and hurled them into the sea. They went on breaking the cliff, and sooner than Jalmir expected there was a long stretch of dam in the sea. But the giants did not stop; they worked till the setting of the sun, so that in the evening they had one third of the dam finished, and on the third day it was possible to go with dry foot to the golden castle.

Jalmir thanked the giants heartily, and the morning of the fourth day he went to the princess. The castle was a wonder to look at; but he scarcely noticed it. He entered, and how surprised was he when in the first chamber he saw the princess. With downcast eyes he said: “My king and master has sent me to beg thee in his name to share his throne and crown.”

“I will go,” answered the princess, with a silvery voice; “but wilt thou remain at his court?”

“I must,” said Jalmir. “I am the viceroy.”

“Let us go, then,” said the princess.

She mounted a splendid crow-black horse, Jalmir his white steed, and they galloped along the dam. On the way Jalmir took courage to look at the princess more closely, and thought that the king would grow younger, and lengthen his life, if the princess would marry him. At the same time he felt a certain agreeable straitening of the heart. He bent his head, and rode in silence at the side of the princess; and the nearer he came to the castle of the king, the more did trouble take hold of his heart. The more joyous, however, was the princess; and her eyes rested on him with a certain special delight. They arrived soon without great adventure.

The king went outside the town to meet them, and conducted them in solemn procession to the castle. “Art thou willing, honored princess, to become my spouse?” asked he of the princess when he had led her to the chambers prepared for her.

“First I must have my golden castle,” replied the princess.

The king was amazed; but he bethought himself soon, and turned to Jalmir, gazing imploringly.

“I will go for it,” said Jalmir, with decision, especially when the princess nodded graciously and smiled at him.

“Go, my dear Jalmir,” said the king, with a soft voice. “I will reward thee in kings’ fashion.”

Jalmir went to the white steed for advice, and the steed said: “Tell the king to give thee three hundred loaves of bread, three hundred kegs of wine, and three hundred slaughtered oxen; then we will go for the golden castle.”

Jalmir told the king his wishes, and the king gave him all. Everything was ready so soon that Jalmir was able to set out that very day. But it was a tedious journey; the wagons went slowly, and after them Jalmir still more slowly, and with drooping head,—why, he knew best himself. When they came to the giants, Jalmir gave them the loaves, the wine, and the meat, begging them urgently to bring the golden castle to the princess.

“Ah, little worm of the earth!” said the giants, laughing, “dost thou think that the castle is made of wood? but we will try,” added they after they had looked at the three hundred loaves, at the kegs and the oxen.

They began eating, and when they had eaten heartily, they went to a neighboring forest, where they pulled up three of the strongest trees; and when they had played with them as men play with canes, they went along the dam to the golden castle. After a short time they moved the castle from its foundations, put it on the oak-trees, and then on to their shoulders; and as if it were nothing they walked after Jalmir without weariness till night, when they slept, and next morning went farther. They worked in this way till they drew near the king’s castle; they did not go to it, however, but waited till night. Then they put the golden castle in the garden, bade farewell to Jalmir, and went home.

When the morning sun rose people shouted “Fire!” in the castle. All ran to the garden to put it out; but the princess standing in her window cried, “Be quiet! That is my golden castle.”

Soon after the king hurried in, and opening his arms in delight, wished to embrace the princess, calling out, “Now thou art mine!”

“Not yet,” answered the princess. “What is my golden castle to me if I have lost the key of it?”

The king was frightened; but soon he said, with clear face: “My dear Jalmir will bring it to thee.” He wanted to go for him; but Jalmir came just then to the princess to tell her that he had brought the castle. The king told his wish; and Jalmir, gaining pleasure and strength from a gracious smile of the princess, departed. He took counsel of his steed, who said: “The key is somewhere in the sea near the dam.” Jalmir mounted; they flew through the air, and were soon on the island where the castle had been.

“But how shall I find the key in the sea?” sighed Jalmir.

“Thou hast the whistle from the fish helped by thee into the water.”

“Yes,” rejoiced Jalmir; and he blew on the whistle.

That moment the fish swam to the surface, and asked, “What dost thou wish?”

“The princess has lost the key of her golden castle,” answered Jalmir, who was about to ask the fish to find it; but the fish had already vanished to tell all fish to look for the key. Now there was life under water,—such gleaming of fish flying hither and thither, up and down! till at last after long swimming, one little fish brought the key to the chief fish. The chief fish gave it to Jalmir; Jalmir gave heartfelt thanks, and was soon flying through the air on his steed, so that he was home before night. When he had given the key to the king he went to his room and shut himself in. Why he did this he knew not himself; but he felt that it would have been better for him had he never seen that princess of the golden castle.

The king, perfectly happy, went with the key to the princess; he felt sure this time that she would make no objection. All the greater was his grief when she said: “I have the castle and the key to it; but what would life be in the castle without the water of death, the water of life, and the water of youth?”

“And where are they to be found?” asked the king.

“They are on my island,” answered the princess so decidedly that the king went away in silence to think whom he should send. He had pity on Jalmir, and therefore he went to the brothers; but they spoke to him so convincingly that the king asked Jalmir again to go and do that last service for him. How could Jalmir refuse? Besides, what he had done he had done for her for whom he would have jumped into fire if need be. He went to his steed to ask aid once more, and for the last time. The steed reproached him for lack of courage, and said: “Sit on my back; we’ll go straight for the water.” Jalmir did so with joy, and was soon going through the air to the island swifter than ever he had travelled before. In a short time the horse came down on the sea-shore and said: “Go to the island for the water of death, the water of life, and the water of youth; but hurry, or the waves will wash down the dam and thou wilt perish. I will eat grass here a while.”

Jalmir went forward, but very slowly; for the image of the princess rose continually before his eyes. Except her, the whole world was as naught to him. He was perhaps half way on the dam when all at once the sea rose and bore it away. Jalmir screamed in terror and disappeared in the sea. The steed heard his screams, but did not run to help him, and hanging his head, went with slow step; he knew well that he could give no aid to Jalmir. Then came a terrible storm on the sea. The steed thought that Jalmir had perished; he rose in the air and shot away like a flash.

Not far from the dam—of which there was not a trace after the storm—was an eagle’s nest high on the cliff, and in it five little eagles that stretched out their necks, without ceasing looking down eagerly, and crying meanwhile. “What do ye want?” called the old eagle, which sat near by on a cliff and looked down. But how quickly did she fly to the beach when she saw a body there! She recognized it at once; for though she was only a wild creature she remembered well that Jalmir had done her a kindness by giving her the quarter of beef for her young. She seized him now in her strong talons and bore him to the island where the golden castle had been; she plunged him into a spring, then placing him on the ground, sat near his side. Soon Jalmir began to breathe,—at first with difficulty and slowly, then more quickly and evenly, till at last he opened his eyes with a deep sigh. “Why not let me sleep longer?—I slept so lightly! I dreamed so sweetly!” said Jalmir, as if waking from slumber. When he looked around more attentively he called out in amazement, “What has been done to me?”

“Dost thou not know me?” asked the eagle, standing before him.

“I do not know thee,” replied Jalmir, shaking his head.

“But I know thee well,” cried the eagle. “Thou didst give me a quarter of beef for my children. But what art thou looking for now?”