Kitabı oku: «Snowdrop & Other Tales», sayfa 8

The Seven Ravens

THERE was once a Man who had seven sons, but never a daughter, however much he wished for one.

At last, however, he had a daughter.

His joy was great, but the child was small and delicate, and, on account of its weakness, it was to be christened at home.

The Father sent one of his sons in haste to the spring to fetch some water; the other six ran with him, and because each of them wanted to be the first to draw the water, between them the pitcher fell into the brook.

There they stood and didn’t know what to do, and not one of them ventured to go home.

As they did not come back, their Father became impatient, and said: ‘Perhaps the young rascals are playing about, and have forgotten it altogether.’

He became anxious lest his little girl should die unbaptized, and in hot vexation, he cried: ‘I wish the youngsters would all turn into Ravens!’

Scarcely were the words uttered, when he heard a whirring in the air above his head, and, looking upwards, he saw seven coal-black Ravens flying away.

The parents could not undo the spell, and were very sad about the loss of their seven sons, but they consoled themselves in some measure with their dear little daughter, who soon became strong, and every day more beautiful.

For a long time she was unaware that she had had any brothers, for her parents took care not to mention it.

However, one day by chance she heard some people saying about her: ‘Oh yes, the girl’s pretty enough; but you know she is really to blame for the misfortune to her seven brothers.’

Then she became very sad, and went to her father and mother and asked if she had ever had any brothers, and what had become of them.

The parents could no longer conceal the secret. They said, however, that what had happened was by the decree of heaven, and that her birth was merely the innocent occasion.

But the little girl could not get the matter off her conscience for a single day, and thought that she was bound to release her brothers again. She had no peace or quiet until she had secretly set out, and gone forth into the wide world to trace her brothers, wherever they might be, and to free them, let it cost what it might.

She took nothing with her but a little ring as a remembrance of her parents, a loaf of bread against hunger, a pitcher of water against thirst, and a little chair in case of fatigue. She kept ever going on and on until she came to the end of the world.

Then she came to the Sun, but it was hot and terrible, it devoured little children. She ran hastily away to the Moon, but it was too cold, and, moreover, dismal and dreary. And when the child was looking at it, it said: ‘I smell, I smell man’s flesh!’

Then she quickly made off, and came to the Stars, and they were kind and good, and every one sat on his own special seat.

But the Morning Star stood up, and gave her a little bone, and said: ‘Unless you have this bone, you cannot open the glass mountain, and in the glass mountain are your brothers.’

The girl took the bone, and wrapped it up carefully in a little kerchief, and went on again until she came to the glass mountain.

The gate was closed, and she meant to get out the little bone. But when she undid the kerchief it was empty, and she had lost the good Star’s present.

How, now, was she to set to work? She was determined to rescue her brothers, but had no key to open the glass mountain.

The good little sister took a knife and cut off her own tiny finger, fitted it into the keyhole, and succeeded in opening the lock.

When she had entered, she met a Dwarf, who said: ‘My child, what are you looking for?’

‘I am looking for my brothers, the Seven Ravens,’ she answered.

The Dwarf said: ‘My masters, the Ravens, are not at home; but if you like to wait until they come, please to walk in.’

Thereupon the Dwarf brought in the Ravens’ supper, on seven little plates, and in seven little cups, and the little sister ate a crumb or two from each of the little plates, and took a sip from each of the little cups, but she let the ring she had brought with her fall into the last little cup.

All at once a whirring and crying were heard in the air; then the Dwarf said: ‘Now my masters the Ravens are coming home.’

Then they came in, and wanted to eat and drink, and began to look about for their little plates and cups.

But they said one after another: ‘Halloa! who has been eating off my plate? Who has been drinking out of my cup? There has been some human mouth here.’

And when the seventh drank to the bottom of his cup, the ring rolled up against his lips.

He looked at it, and recognised it as a ring belonging to his father and mother, and said: ‘God grant that our sister may be here, and that we may be delivered.’

As the maiden was standing behind the door listening, she heard the wish and came forward, and then all the Ravens got back their human form again.

And they embraced and kissed one another, and went joyfully home.

The Marriage of Mrs. Reynard

THERE was once an old Fox who thought that his wife was not true to him, and determined to put her to the test. He stretched himself under the bank, lay motionless, and pretended to be as dead as a door nail. Mrs. Reynard went to her chamber, and shut herself in; and her servant, Mistress Cat, sat by the fire, and cooked the dinner.

Now, when it became known that the old Fox was dead, suitors began to announce themselves. Soon afterwards, the servant heard some one knocking at the front door. She went and opened the door, and there stood a young Fox, who said —

 
‘What are ye doing, pray, Mistress Cat?
Sleeping or waking? or what are ye at?’
 

She answered —

 
‘I’m not asleep; I’m wide awake.
D’ye want to know what now I make?
I’m warming beer, with butter in it;
I beg ye’ll taste it in a minute.’
 

‘I’m much obliged, Mistress,’ said the Fox. ‘What is Mrs. Reynard doing?’

The Maid answered —

 
‘In chamber sad she sits alone,
And ceases not with grief to moan.
She weeps until her eyes are red,
Because the dear old Fox is dead.’
 

‘Well, just tell her, Mistress, that there’s a young Fox here, who would be glad to woo her.’

‘Very well, young gentleman.’

 
‘Then went the Cat with pit-a-pat
And smote the door, rat-tata-tat!
“Pray, Mrs. Reynard, are you in?
Outside a wooer waits below!”’
 

‘Well, what’s he like? I want to know. Has he got nine such beautiful tails as the late lamented Mr. Reynard?’

‘Oh dear no,’ answered the Cat. ‘He has only got one.’

‘Then I won’t have him.’

Mistress Cat went down, and sent the wooer away.

Soon after this there was knocking again, and another Fox appeared at the door, who wished to pay his addresses to Mrs. Reynard. He had two tails, but he came off no better than the first. Afterwards others came, each with one tail more; but they were all rejected, till at last one came that had nine tails like old Mr. Reynard.

When the widow heard this, full of joy, she said to the Cat —

 
‘Open the gates and doors; be swift.
Old Mr. Reynard turn adrift.’
 

But when the wedding was about to be celebrated, then old Mr. Reynard under the bank roused himself, and gave the whole crew a good drubbing, and sent them, Mrs. Reynard and all, helter-skelter out of the house.

Second Tale

When old Mr. Reynard really died, the Wolf came as a suitor, and knocked at the door, and the Cat who acted as servant to Mrs. Reynard, opened it.

The Wolf greeted her, and said —

 
‘Good-day, Miss Cat, of sprightly wit,
How comes it that alone you sit?
What are you making there, so good?’
 

The Cat answered —

 
‘Tumbling milk and butter up.
Will your Lordship have a sup?’
 

‘Thank you kindly, Mistress Cat. Mistress Reynard is not at home, I suppose.’

 
‘Upstairs in her chamber she sits,
And weeps as her sorrow befits.
Her sad case she doth much deplore,
Because Mr. Reynard’s no more.’
 

The Wolf answered —

 
‘“If now she wants to wed again,
She must come down the stairs, ’tis plain.”
The Cat ran up without delay,
Nor did her claws their clatter stay
Until she reached the long saloon.
There, tapping with her five gold rings,
“Is Mrs. Reynard in?” she sings.
“If now she wants to wed again,
She must come down the stairs, ’tis plain.”’
 

Mrs. Reynard asked: ‘Does the gentleman wear red breeches, and has he a pointed muzzle?’

‘No,’ answered the Cat.

‘Then he is no use to me.’

When the Wolf was rejected, there came a Dog, a Stag, a Hare, a Bear, and one after another every sort of wild animal. But in every one there was wanting some of the good qualities which old Mr. Reynard had possessed, and the Cat was obliged to dismiss the suitors every time. At last there came a young Fox. Then Mrs. Reynard asked: ‘Does the gentleman wear red breeches, and has he got a pointed muzzle?’

‘Yes,’ said the Cat. ‘He has both.’

‘Then let him come up,’ said Mrs. Reynard, and ordered the maid to make ready the wedding feast.

 
‘Now, Cat, set to and sweep the room.
Then fling the old Fox from the house;
Bring in many a good fat mouse,
But eat them all yourself alone,
Nor give your mistress e’er a one.’
 

Then the wedding with young Mr. Fox was held, and there was merry-making and dancing, and if they haven’t stopped, they are dancing still.

The Salad

THERE was once a merry young Huntsman, who went into the forest to hunt. He was gay and light-hearted, and whistled a tune upon a leaf as he went along.

Suddenly an ugly old Crone spoke to him, and said: ‘Good morning, dear Huntsman; you are merry and happy enough, while I am hungry and thirsty. Pray give me an alms.’

The Huntsman pitied the poor Old Woman, put his hand in his pocket, and made her a present according to his means.

Then he wanted to go on. But the Old Woman held him back, and said: ‘Hark ye, dear Huntsman, I will make you a present because of your good heart. Go on your way, and you will come to a tree, on which nine birds are sitting. They will have a cloak in their claws, over which they are fighting. Take aim with your gun, and shoot into the middle of them. They will drop the cloak, and one of the birds will fall down dead. Take the cloak with you, it is a wishing-cloak. When you throw it round your shoulders you only have to wish yourself at a place to be there at once. Take the heart out of the dead bird and swallow it whole, then you will find a gold coin under your pillow every single morning when you wake.’

The Huntsman thanked the Wise Woman, and thought: ‘She promises fine things, if only they turn out as well.’

When he had gone about a hundred paces, he heard above him, in the branches of a tree, such a chattering and screaming that he looked up.

There he saw a flock of birds tearing a garment with their beaks and claws; snatching and tearing at it as if each one wanted to have it for himself.

‘Well,’ said the Huntsman, ‘this is extraordinary, it is exactly what the Old Woman said.’

He put his gun to his shoulder, took aim and fired right into the middle of them, making the feathers fly about.

The birds took flight with a great noise, all except one, which fell down dead, and the cloak dropped at his feet.

He did as the Old Woman had told him, cut the heart out of the bird and swallowed it whole. Then he took the cloak home with him.

When he woke in the morning, he remembered the Old Woman’s promise, and looked under his pillow to see if it was true.

There, sure enough, lay the golden coin shining before him, and the next morning he found another, and the same every morning when he got up.

He collected quite a heap of gold, and at last he thought: ‘What is the good of all my gold if I stay at home here? I will go and look about me in the world.’

So he took leave of his parents, shouldered his gun, and started off into the world.

It so happened that one day he came to a thick forest, and when he got through it, he saw a fine castle lying in the plain beyond.

He saw an Old Woman standing in one of the windows looking out, with a beautiful Maiden beside her.

But the Old Woman was a witch, and she said to the Maiden: ‘Here comes some one out of the forest. He has a wonderful treasure inside him; we must try to get it from him, my darling, it will suit us better than him. He has a bird’s heart about him, and therefore he finds a gold coin every morning under his pillow when he wakes.’

She told the girl how he had got it, and at last said: ‘If you don’t get it from him, it will be the worse for you.’

When the Huntsman got nearer, he saw the Maiden, and said: ‘I have been wandering about for a long time, I will go into this castle and take a rest. I have plenty of money.’

But the real reason was that he had caught sight of the pretty picture at the window. He went in, and he was kindly received and hospitably treated.

Before long, he was so enamoured of the Witch-Maiden that he thought of nothing else, and cared for nothing but pleasing her.

The Old Woman said to the Maiden: ‘Now we must get the bird’s heart, he will never miss it.’

They concocted a potion, and when it was ready they put it into a goblet.

And the Maiden took it to him, and said: ‘Now, my beloved, you must drink to me.’

He took the cup and drank the potion, and when he was overpowered by it the bird’s heart came out of his mouth.

The Maiden took it away secretly and swallowed it herself, for the Old Woman wanted to have it.

From this time the Huntsman found no more gold under his pillow; but the coin was always under the Maiden’s instead, and the Old Woman used to fetch it away every morning.

But he was so much in love, that he thought of nothing but enjoying himself in the Maiden’s company.

Then the Old Woman said: ‘We have got the bird’s heart, but we must have his wishing-cloak too.’

The Maiden said: ‘Let us leave him that; we have taken away his wealth.’

The Old Woman was very angry, and said: ‘A cloak like that is a very wonderful thing, and not often to be got. Have it I must, and will!’

So she obeyed the Witch’s orders, placed herself at the window, and looked sadly out at the distant hills.

The Huntsman said: ‘Why are you so sad?’

‘Alas! my love,’ was her answer, ‘over there are the garnet mountains, where the precious stones are found. I long for them so much that I grow sad whenever I think of them. But who could ever get them? The birds which fly, perhaps; no mortal could ever reach them.’

‘If that is all your trouble,’ said the Huntsman, ‘I can soon lift that load from your heart.’

Then he drew her under his cloak, and in a moment they were both sitting on the mountain. The precious stones were glittering around them; their hearts rejoiced at the sight of them, and they soon gathered together some of the finest and largest.

Now the Witch had so managed that the Huntsman began to feel his eyes grow very heavy.

So he said to the Maiden: ‘We will sit down to rest a while, I am so tired I can hardly stand.’

So they sat down, and he laid his head on her lap and was soon fast asleep.

As soon as he was asleep, the Maiden slipped the cloak from his shoulders and put it on her own, loaded herself with the precious garnets, and wished herself at home.

When the Huntsman had had his sleep out, he woke up and saw that his beloved had betrayed him, and left him alone on the wild mountain.

‘Oh, what treachery there is in the world!’ he exclaimed, as he sat down in grief, and did not know what to do.

Now the mountain belonged to some wild and savage Giants who lived on it, and before long he saw three of them striding along.

He quickly lay down again and pretended to be fast asleep.

The first one, as he came along, stumbled against him, and said: ‘What kind of earthworm is this?’

The second said: ‘Tread on him and kill him.’

But the third said: ‘It isn’t worth the trouble. Let him alone, – he can’t live here; and when he climbs higher up the mountain, the clouds will roll down and carry him off.’

Then they passed on, and as soon as they were gone, the Huntsman, who had heard all they said, got up and climbed up to the top of the mountain.

After he had sat there for a time, a cloud floated over him, and carried him away.

At first he was swept through the air, but then he was gently lowered and deposited within a large walled garden, upon a soft bed of lettuces and other herbs.

He looked around him and said: ‘If only I had something to eat; I am so hungry. And it will be difficult to get away from here. I see neither apples nor pears, nor any other fruit, nothing but salad and herbs.’

At last, however, he thought: ‘At the worst, I can eat some of this salad; it does not taste very good, but it will, at least, be refreshing.’

He picked out a fine head of lettuce, and began eating it. But he had hardly swallowed a little piece, when he began to feel very odd, and quite changed. He felt four legs growing, a big head, and two long ears, and he saw to his horror that he was changed into an ass.

As he at the same time felt as hungry as ever, and the juicy salad was now very much to his taste, he went on eating greedily.

At last he reached another kind of salad, which he had hardly tasted when he felt a new change taking place, and found himself back in his human shape.

After this he lay down and slept off his fatigue.

When he woke next morning he broke off a head of the bad salad, and a head of the good, and thought: ‘These will help me to regain my own, and also to punish the traitors.’

He put the salad into his wallet, climbed over the wall, and went off to find the castle of his beloved.

After wandering about for a few days, he was fortunate enough to find it. Then he stained his face, and disguised himself so that his own mother would not have known him, and went to the castle to ask for shelter.

‘I am so tired,’ he said; ‘I cannot go any further.’

The Witch said: ‘Who are you, countryman, and what do you want?’

He answered: ‘I am a messenger from the King. He sent me to find the rarest salad which grows under the sun. I have been lucky enough to find it, and I carry it with me. But the sun is so burning, that I am afraid the tender plant will be withered, and I don’t know if I shall be able to take it any further.’

When the Old Witch heard about the rare salad, she felt a great desire to have some, and said: ‘Good countryman, let me try the wonderful salad!’

‘By all means,’ he answered. ‘I have two heads with me, and you shall have one.’ So saying, he opened his sack, and handed her the bad one.

The Witch had no suspicions, and her mouth so watered for the new dish, that she went to the kitchen herself to prepare it.

When it was ready, she could not wait till it was put upon the table, but put a few leaves into her mouth at once.

Hardly had she swallowed them, when she lost her human shape, and ran out into the courtyard, as an old she-ass.

Then the Maid came into the kitchen, saw the salad standing ready, and was about to put it on the table. But on the way the fancy seized her to taste it, according to her usual habit, and she ate a few leaves.

The power of the salad at once became apparent, because she also turned into an ass, and ran out into the yard to join the Old Witch, while the dish of salad fell to the ground.

In the meantime the messenger was sitting with the beautiful Maiden, and as no one appeared with the salad, she also was seized with a desire to taste it, and said: ‘I don’t know what has become of the salad.’

But the Huntsman thought: ‘The plant must have done its work,’ and said: ‘I will go into the kitchen and see.’

As soon as he got downstairs he saw the two asses running about, and the salad lying on the ground.

‘This is all right!’ he said; ‘two of them are done for.’

Then he picked up the leaves, put them on a dish, and took them to the Maiden.

‘I am bringing the precious food to you myself,’ said he, ‘so that you may not have to wait any longer.’

She ate some, and, like the others, was immediately changed into an ass, and ran out to them in the yard.

When the Huntsman had washed his face so that the transformed creatures might know him, he went into the courtyard, and said: ‘Now, you shall be paid for your treachery.’

He tied them all together with a rope, and drove them along till he came to a mill. He tapped at the window, and the Miller put his head out and asked what he wanted.

‘I have three bad animals here,’ he said, ‘that I want to get rid of. If you will take them and feed them, and treat them as I wish, I will pay you what you like to ask.’

‘Why not?’ said the Miller. ‘How do you want them treated?’

The Huntsman said he wanted the old she-ass (the Witch) to be well beaten three times a day and fed once. The younger one, which was the Maid, beaten once and fed three times. The youngest of all, who was the beautiful Maiden, was to be fed three times, and not beaten at all; he could not find it in his heart to have her beaten.

Then he went back to the castle and found everything he wanted in it.

A few days later the Miller came and told him that the old ass which was to be beaten three times and fed once, was dead. ‘The other two,’ he said, ‘which are to be fed three times, are not dead, but they are pining away, and won’t last long.’

The Huntsman’s heart was stirred with pity, and he told the Miller to bring them back to him.

When they came he gave them some of the other salad to eat, so that they took their human shapes again.

The beautiful Maiden fell on her knees before him, and said: ‘O my beloved, forgive me all the wrong I have done you. My mother forced me to do it. It was against my own will, for I love you dearly. Your wishing-cloak is hanging in the cupboard, and you shall have the bird’s heart back too.’

But he said: ‘Keep it; it will be all the same, as I will take you to be my own true wife.’

Their marriage was soon after celebrated, and they lived happily together till they died.