Andrew Lang_Fairy Book 08 (9 page)

'O prince, let me dip my burning head once in the lake, and I will
hurl you up to the top of the sky.' But the prince answered:

'Oh, ho! my good dragon, do not crow too soon! If the emperor's
daughter were only here, and would kiss me on the forehead, I
would throw you up higher still!' And suddenly the dragon's hold
loosened, and he fell back into the lake.

As soon as it was evening the prince again collected his sheep, and
playing on his pipes he marched before them into the city. When he
passed through the gates all the people came out of their houses to
stare in wonder, for never before had any flock returned from the
lake.

Meanwhile the two horsemen had ridden quickly back, and told the
emperor all that they had seen and heard. The emperor listened
eagerly to their tale, then called his daughter to him and repeated it
to her.

'To-morrow,' he said, when he had finished, 'you shall go with the
shepherd to the lake, and then you shall kiss him on the forehead as
he wishes.'

But when the princess heard these words, she burst into tears, and
sobbed out:

'Will you really send me, your only child, to that dreadful place,
from which most likely I shall never come back?'

'Fear nothing, my little daughter, all will be well. Many shepherds
have gone to that lake and none have ever returned; but this one
has in these two days fought twice with the dragon and has escaped
without a wound. So I hope to-morrow he will kill the dragon
altogether, and deliver this land from the monster who has slain so
many of our bravest men.'

Scarcely had the sun begun to peep over the hills next morning,
when the princess stood by the shepherd's side, ready to go to the
lake. The shepherd was brimming over with joy, but the princess
only wept bitterly. 'Dry your tears, I implore you,' said he. 'If you
will just do what I ask you, and when the time comes, run and kiss
my forehead, you have nothing to fear.'

Merrily the shepherd blew on his pipes as he marched at the head of
his flock, only stopping every now and then to say to the weeping
girl at his side:

'Do not cry so, Heart of Gold; trust me and fear nothing.' And so
they reached the lake.

In an instant the sheep were scattered all over the meadows, and
the prince placed his hawk on the tree, and his pipes on the grass,
while he bade his greyhounds lie beside them. Then he rolled up his
trousers and his sleeves, and waded into the water, calling:

'Dragon! dragon! if you are not a coward, come forth, and let us
have one more fight together.' And the dragon answered: 'I am
waiting for you, O prince'; and the next minute he reared himself
out of the water, huge and horrible to see. Swiftly he drew near to
the bank, and the prince sprang to meet him, and they grasped each
other round the body and fought till it was noon. And when the sun
was at its hottest, the dragon cried:

'O prince, let me dip my burning head in the lake, and I will hurl
you to the top of the sky.' But the prince answered:

'Oh, ho! my good dragon, do not crow too soon! If the emperor's
daughter were only here, and she would kiss my forehead, I would
throw you higher still.'

Hardly had he spoken, when the princess, who had been listening,
ran up and kissed him on the forehead. Then the prince swung the
dragon straight up into the clouds, and when he touched the earth
again, he broke into a thousand pieces. Out of the pieces there
sprang a wild boar and galloped away, but the prince called his
hounds to give chase, and they caught the boar and tore it to bits.
Out of the pieces there sprang a hare, and in a moment the
greyhounds were after it, and they caught it and killed it; and out of
the hare there came a pigeon. Quickly the prince let loose his
hawk, which soared straight into the air, then swooped upon the
bird and brought it to his master. The prince cut open its body and
found the sparrow inside, as the old woman had said.

'Now,' cried the prince, holding the sparrow in his hand, 'now you
shall tell me where I can find my brothers.'

'Do not hurt me,' answered the sparrow, 'and I will tell you with all
my heart.' Behind your father's castle stands a mill, and in the mill
are three slender twigs. Cut off these twigs and strike their roots
with them, and the iron door of a cellar will open. In the cellar you
will find as many people, young and old, women and children, as
would fill a kingdom, and among them are your brothers.'

By this time twilight had fallen, so the prince washed himself in the
lake, took the hawk on his shoulder and the pipes under his arm,
and with his greyhounds before him and his flock behind him,
marched gaily into the town, the princess following them all, still
trembling with fright. And so they passed through the streets,
thronged with a wondering crowd, till they reached the castle.

Unknown to anyone, the emperor had stolen out on horseback, and
had hidden himself on the hill, where he could see all that happened.
When all was over, and the power of the dragon was broken for
ever, he rode quickly back to the castle, and was ready to receive
the prince with open arms, and to promise him his daughter to wife.
The wedding took place with great splendour, and for a whole
week the town was hung with coloured lamps, and tables were
spread in the hall of the castle for all who chose to come and eat.
And when the feast was over, the prince told the emperor and the
people who he really was, and at this everyone rejoiced still more,
and preparations were made for the prince and princess to return to
their own kingdom, for the prince was impatient to set free his
brothers.

The first thing he did when he reached his native country was to
hasten to the mill, where he found the three twigs as the sparrow
had told him. The moment that he struck the root the iron door
flew open, and from the cellar a countless multitude of men and
women streamed forth. He bade them go one by one wheresoever
they would, while he himself waited by the door till his brothers
passed through. How delighted they were to meet again, and to
hear all that the prince had done to deliver them from their
enchantment. And they went home with him and served him all the
days of their lives, for they said that he only who had proved
himself brave and faithful was fit to be king.

(From Volksmarehen der Serben.)

Once upon a time the things in this story happened, and if they had
not happened then the story would never have been told. But that
was the time when wolves and lambs lay peacefully together in one
stall, and shepherds dined on grassy banks with kings and queens.

Once upon a time, then, my dear good children, there lived a man.
Now this man was really a hundred years old, if not fully twenty
years more. And his wife was very old too—how old I do not
know; but some said she was as old as the goddess Venus herself.
They had been very happy all these years, but they would have been
happier still if they had had any children; but old though they were
they had never made up their minds to do without them, and often
they would sit over the fire and talk of how they would have
brought up their children if only some had come to their house.

One day the old man seemed sadder and more thoughtful than was
common with him, and at last he said to his wife: 'Listen to me, old
woman!'

'What do you want?' asked she.

'Get me some money out of the chest, for I am going a long
journey—all through the world—to see if I cannot find a child, for
my heart aches to think that after I am dead my house will fall into
the hands of a stranger. And this let me tell you: that if I never find
a child I shall not come home again.'

Then the old man took a bag and filled it with food and money, and
throwing it over his shoulders, bade his wife farewell.

For long he wandered, and wandered, and wandered, but no child
did he see; and one morning his wanderings led him to a forest
which was so thick with trees that no light could pass through the
branches. The old man stopped when he saw this dreadful place,
and at first was afraid to go in; but he remembered that, after all, as
the proverb says: 'It is the unexpected that happens,' and perhaps in
the midst of this black spot he might find the child he was seeking.
So summoning up all his courage he plunged boldly in.

How long he might have been walking there he never could have
told you, when at last he reached the mouth of a cave where the
darkness seemed a hundred times darker than the wood itself.
Again he paused, but he felt as if something was driving him to
enter, and with a beating heart he stepped in.

For some minutes the silence and darkness so appalled him that he
stood where he was, not daring to advance one step. Then he made
a great effort and went on a few paces, and suddenly, far before
him, he saw the glimmer of a light. This put new heart into him,
and he directed his steps straight towards the faint rays, till he could
see, sitting by it, an old hermit, with a long white beard.

The hermit either did not hear the approach of his visitor, or
pretended not to do so, for he took no notice, and continued to
read his book. After waiting patiently for a little while, the old man
fell on his knees, and said: 'Good morning, holy father!' But he
might as well have spoken to the rock. 'Good morning, holy father,'
he said again, a little louder than before, and this time the hermit
made a sign to him to come nearer. 'My son,' whispered he, in a
voice that echoed through the cavern, 'what brings you to this dark
and dismal place? Hundreds of years have passed since my eyes
have rested on the face of a man, and I did not think to look on one
again.'.

'My misery has brought me here,' replied the old man; 'I have no
child, and all our lives my wife and I have longed for one. So I left
my home, and went out into the world, hoping that somewhere I
might find what I was seeking.'

Then the hermit picked up an apple from the ground, and gave it to
him, saying: 'Eat half of this apple, and give the rest to your wife,
and cease wandering through the world.'

The old man stooped and kissed the feet of the hermit for sheer joy,
and left the cave. He made his way through the forest as fast as the
darkness would let him, and at length arrived in flowery fields,
which dazzled him with their brightness. Suddenly he was seized
with a desperate thirst, and a burning in his throat. He looked for a
stream but none was to be seen, and his tongue grew more parched
every moment. At length his eyes fell on the apple, which all this
while he had been holding in his hand, and in his thirst he forgot
what the hermit had told him, and instead of eating merely his own
half, he ate up the old woman's also; after that he went to sleep.

When he woke up he saw something strange lying on a bank a little
way off, amidst long trails of pink roses. The old man got up,
rubbed his eyes, and went to see what it was, when, to his surprise
and joy, it proved to be a little girl about two years old, with a skin
as pink and white as the roses above her. He took her gently in his
arms, but she did not seem at all frightened, and only jumped and
crowed with delight; and the old man wrapped his cloak round her,
and set off for home as fast as his legs would carry him.

When they were close to the cottage where they lived he laid the
child in a pail that was standing near the door, and ran into the
house, crying: 'Come quickly, wife, quickly, for I have brought you
a daughter, with hair of gold and eyes like stars!'

At this wonderful news the old woman flew downstairs, almost
tumbling down ill her eagerness to see the treasure; but when her
husband led her to the pail it was perfectly empty! The old man was
nearly beside himself with horror, while his wife sat down and
sobbed with grief and disappointment. There was not a spot round
about which they did not search, thinking that somehow the child
might have got out of the pail and hidden itself for fun; but the little
girl was not there, and there was no sign of her.

'Where can she be?' moaned the old man, in despair. 'Oh, why did I
ever leave her, even for a moment? Have the fairies taken her, or
has some wild beast carried her off?' And they began their search all
over again; but neither fairies nor wild beasts did they meet with,
and with sore hearts they gave it up at last and turned sadly into the
hut.

And what had become of the baby? Well, finding herself left alone
in a strange place she began to cry with fright, and an eagle
hovering near, heard her, and went to see what the sound came
from. When he beheld the fat pink and white creature he thought of
his hungry little ones at home, and swooping down he caught her
up in his claws and was soon flying with her over the tops of the
trees. In a few minutes he reached the one in which he had built his
nest, and laying little Wildrose (for so the old man had called her)
among his downy young eaglets, he flew away. The eaglets
naturally were rather surprised at this strange animal, so suddenly
popped down in their midst, but instead of beginning to eat her, as
their father expected, they nestled up close to her and spread out
their tiny wings to shield her from the sun.

Now, in the depths of the forest where the eagle had built his nest,
there ran a stream whose waters were poisonous, and on the banks
of this stream dwelt a horrible lindworm with seven heads. The
lindworm had often watched the eagle flying about the top of the
tree, carrying food to his young ones and, accordingly, he watched
carefully for the moment when the eaglets began to try their wings
and to fly away from the nest. Of course, if the eagle himself was
there to protect them even the lindworm, big and strong as he was,
knew that he could do nothing; but when he was absent, any little
eaglets who ventured too near the ground would be sure to
disappear down the monster's throat. Their brothers, who had been
left behind as too young and weak to see the world, knew nothing
of all this, but supposed their turn would soon come to see the
world also. And in a few days their eyes, too, opened and their
wings flapped impatiently, and they longed to fly away above the
waving tree-tops to mountain and the bright sun beyond. But that
very midnight the lindworm, who was hungry and could not wait
for his supper, came out of the brook with a rushing noise, and
made straight for the tree. Two eyes of flame came creeping
nearer, nearer, and two fiery tongues were stretching themselves
out closer, closer, to the little birds who were trembling and
shuddering in the farthest corner of the nest. But just as the
tongues had almost reached them, the lindworm gave a fearful cry,
and turned and fell backwards. Then came the sound of battle from
the ground below, and the tree shook, though there was no wind,
and roars and snarls mixed together, till the eaglets felt more
frightened than ever, and thought their last hour had come. Only
Wildrose was undisturbed, and slept sweetly through it all.