Fairy Tales from the Brothers Grimm: A New English Version (31 page)

Source:
a story from Bohemia, told to the Grimm brothers by an unknown informant

Similar stories:
Alexander Afanasyev: ‘Horns’ (
Russian Fairy Tales
); Katharine M. Briggs: ‘Fortunatus’ (
Folk Tales of Britain
); Italo Calvino: ‘The Crab with the Golden Eggs’ (
Italian Folktales
)

As quite often in Grimm, we have two separate story types sewn together here. Once the hunter has the bird’s heart and the wishing cloak, he could in theory go on to any kind of adventure. The story of the cabbage (sometimes translated as ‘lettuce’) which turns whoever eats it into a donkey has no logical connection with the first part of the story, but they fit together very well.

In Afanasyev’s Russian version of the story, the food (two kinds of apple, in this case) causes horns to grow on or to vanish from the eater’s head. Less inconvenient than turning into a donkey, no doubt, but still not easy to explain.

What I especially like about this tale is the young hunter’s cheerful good nature. It’s remarkable how few details of behaviour we need to evoke a personality.

FORTY-TWO

ONE EYE, TWO EYES AND THREE EYES

There was once a woman who had three daughters. She called the eldest One Eye, because she had one eye in the middle of her forehead. The second was called Two Eyes, because she had two eyes just like other people, and the youngest Three Eyes, because she had three eyes, the third one in the middle of her forehead like her eldest sister’s.

Because Two Eyes looked no different from everyone else, however, her mother and her sisters couldn’t stop criticizing her.

‘You two-eyed monster,’ they said, ‘who d’you think you are? There’s nothing special about you, my girl. You don’t belong with us.’

They gave her the shabbiest clothes to wear and nothing but leftover scraps from the table to eat. Between them, they made her life a misery.

One day Two Eyes had to go out and look after the goat. She was hungry, as usual, because there had been nothing but the dirty saucepan they’d cooked the porridge in to lick out for breakfast, and it was burnt, what’s more. She sat down on the grassy slope and began to cry. When the first sobbing had died away, she was surprised to see a kindly-looking wise woman standing nearby.

‘Why are you crying, Two Eyes?’ she said.

‘Because I’ve got two eyes like other people,’ replied Two Eyes. ‘Like you, for instance. My mother and my sisters hate me, and they push me around and give me nothing but worn-out old clothes to wear and make me eat the scraps they leave on the table. Today I only had the porridge saucepan to lick out, and it was burnt, too.’

‘Well, Two Eyes, you can stop crying now,’ said the wise woman. ‘I’ll tell you a secret, and you won’t be hungry any more. Just say to the goat:

“Little goat, bleat,

Bring me good things to eat,”

and a beautiful table with all sorts of good food will appear in front of you, and you can eat as much as you like. When you’ve had enough, just say:

“Little goat, bleat,

I’ve had all I can eat,”

and it’ll disappear.’

No sooner had she said that than the wise woman herself disappeared. Two Eyes thought she’d better try it straight away before she forgot it, and besides, she was too hungry to wait.

So she said:

‘Little goat, bleat,

Bring me good things to eat,’

and as soon as she’d said the words, there in front of her stood a table covered in a snowy white cloth. There was a plate with a silver knife and fork and spoon, and a snowy linen napkin as well, and of course a chair to sit on; but the food! There were hot dishes and cold dishes, casseroles and roast meat, vegetables of all kinds, and a great big apple pie, all freshly cooked and steaming hot.

Two Eyes could hardly wait. She said the shortest grace she knew: ‘Lord, be our guest now and for ever, Amen.’ Then she sat down and ate all she wanted. It was all so delicious that she had a little bit of everything, and when she was full up she said:

‘Little goat, bleat,

I’ve had all I can eat,’

and the table vanished in the blink of an eye.

‘Well, I like that sort of housekeeping,’ thought Two Eyes, and she was happier than she’d been for years.

When she got home with the goat that evening, she found an old clay pot with a bit of cold greasy stew in the bottom that her sisters had left for her, but she didn’t touch it. And in the morning all there was for her were the crumbs from the toast they’d made, but she didn’t eat those either. The first couple of times that happened her sisters didn’t see, because they usually ignored whatever she did, but when it happened the next day, and the next, they couldn’t help noticing.

‘What’s up with Two Eyes? She’s not eating.’

‘I bet she’s up to something.’

‘Probably got someone to bring her a picnic. Greedy cow.’

‘Typical!’

They thought they’d better try and find out what was going on, so next time Two Eyes took the goat out to pasture, One Eye said to her, ‘I think I’ll come with you. I’m not sure you’re looking after the goat properly.’

Two Eyes guessed what One Eye was up to. She took the goat out to the usual meadow, where there was plenty for it to eat, and then she said, ‘Come and sit down, One Eye. I’ll sing you a song.’

One Eye was tired, because she’d had more exercise walking out to the meadow than she’d had for weeks, and besides, the warm sun was making her drowsy. So she slumped down in the shade and Two Eyes began to sing:

‘One Eye, are you awake?

One Eye, are you asleep?’

One Eye’s single eyelid drooped and sank lower and lower and finally she started snoring. Once Two Eyes was sure her sister was fast asleep, she said:

‘Little goat, bleat,

Bring me good things to eat
.’

And at once the magic table appeared, and on it there was leek soup, roast chicken and strawberries and cream. Two Eyes ate as much as she wanted and then said:

‘Little goat, bleat,

I’ve had all I can eat,’

and the table vanished.

Two Eyes woke One Eye and said, ‘Didn’t you say you wanted to help me look after the goat? You’ve been asleep all day! She could have run away and fallen in the river. Lucky I was here. Come on, let’s go home.’

They went home, and once again Two Eyes left her scraps of food untouched. This time it was a few crusty bits of burnt pastry. Three Eyes and their mother couldn’t wait to hear what had happened out in the meadow, but all One Eye could say was, ‘I dunno. I fell asleep. Well, it was hot.’

‘Useless!’ said their mother. ‘Tomorrow, you go, Three Eyes. There must be
something
going on.’

So next morning Three Eyes said to Two Eyes, ‘I’m coming with you today, and I’m going to keep a close eye on what you’re up to.’

Off they went with the little goat. Two Eyes could see at once that Three Eyes was up to the same trick as One Eye had been, so as soon as they were safely in the meadow and Three Eyes had slumped down by the hedge, she began to sing:

‘Three Eyes, are you awake?’

But then instead of singing, as she meant to,

‘Three Eyes, are you asleep?’

she sang:

‘Two Eyes, are you asleep?’

And she kept singing:

‘Three Eyes, are you awake?

Two Eyes, are you asleep?’

Gradually two of Three Eyes’s eyes closed as they became drowsy, but the third one didn’t close because Two Eyes hadn’t sung it to sleep. Three Eyes let the eyelid droop and seem to close, but she was only pretending. That eye could see perfectly.

When Two Eyes thought Three Eyes was asleep, she sang:

‘Little goat, bleat,

Bring me good things to eat.’

The table appeared at once. This time there was beetroot soup, a big meat pie and a delicious cake. Two Eyes ate and drank happily till she was full, and then sang:

‘Little goat, bleat,

I’ve had all I can eat,’

and the table disappeared.

Three Eyes was watching everything, but she closed her third eye quickly when Two Eyes came over to wake her up.

‘Come on, Three Eyes!’ said Two Eyes. ‘You’ve been asleep all day. It’s a good thing I was here to look after the goat. Come on, let’s go home.’

When they got back to the house, Two Eyes again refused the food they gave her. It was the water some cabbage had been boiled in.

The mother took Three Eyes aside and said, ‘Well? What happened? Did you see?’

‘Yes, I did. She tried to send me to sleep, but my third eye stayed awake. What she does is sing to the goat like this:

“Little goat, bleat,

Bring me good things to eat,”

and a table all covered with lovely food just comes out of nowhere and she eats as much as she wants. Then she sings:

“Little goat, bleat,

I’ve had all I can eat,”

and it disappears. Honest! It’s true! I saw it. She put two of my eyes to sleep, but the third one stayed awake.’

Well, the mother was furious when she heard that. She yelled, ‘Two Eyes! Come here at once! What makes you think you’re better than us, eh? Playing magic tricks with the goat! How dare you! I’ll make you sorry, just you watch.’

And she took the biggest knife in the kitchen and stabbed the little goat in the heart, so that it fell dead on the floor.

Two Eyes ran outside at once and ran all the way to the meadow, and burst into tears. She sobbed and sobbed for the poor little goat, which had never done anything wrong, and for herself, too.

Then she realized that the wise woman was standing there.

‘Why are you crying, Two Eyes?’ she said.

‘I can’t help it,’ said Two Eyes. ‘My mother stabbed the poor little goat in the heart and killed it, and now it’s dead and I’ll never be able to ask it for a table of food again.’

‘Let me give you some good advice,’ said the wise woman. ‘Ask your sisters to give you the entrails of the goat, and bury them in the garden near the front door. That will bring you luck.’

Then she disappeared. Two Eyes went slowly home and said to her sisters, ‘I’d like to have something to remember the goat by. Can I just have the entrails?’

‘Well, if that’s all you want,’ said One Eye, and Three Eyes said, ‘Oh, let her have them. She might stop snivelling then.’

Two Eyes put the entrails of the goat in the washing-up bowl and carried them out to the front garden, where she buried them in a little patch of grass.

Next morning there was a beautiful tree standing there. Its leaves were made of silver, and among them there were dozens of fruits the size of apples, made of solid gold. No one had ever seen a lovelier tree, and of course no one had any idea about how it had grown in the night; only Two Eyes knew, because it was growing in the spot where she’d buried the entrails of the goat.

As soon as the mother saw it, she said, ‘Up you go, One Eye, climb up and get some of that golden fruit.’

One Eye climbed up, huffing and puffing, and tried, but each time she reached for a golden apple, the branch pulled itself up out of her reach. She grabbed for this one and that one, but she couldn’t so much as touch one, no matter what she did.

‘Useless,’ said the mother. ‘She can’t see what she’s doing. Three Eyes, you get up there. You can probably see better than she can.’

One Eye came down and Three Eyes clambered up, but in spite of her better eyesight, she got on no better than her sister. Every time she reached for an apple, the branch moved just enough to take it out of reach, and finally she had to give up.

‘Can I try?’ said Two Eyes. ‘Maybe I’ll have more luck.’

‘You, you freak?’

‘Yes, monster, what makes you think you can do any better than us?’

Two Eyes climbed the tree, and instead of pulling themselves out of her reach the apples positively dropped into her hands. She gathered more and more until she had a whole apron full. When she climbed down, her mother took them away, and instead of treating her better because she was the only one who could reach the fruit, One Eye and Three Eyes grew envious and spiteful, and treated her even worse than before.

Now one day when they were all in the garden, a young knight happened to ride by.

The sisters saw him coming and said, ‘Quick, Two Eyes! Under the barrel! If he sees you, he’ll think we’re all horrible to look at!’

And they shoved her under a barrel that stood near the tree, together with the golden apples she’d already picked. Then they stood by the tree, preening themselves and simpering. As the knight came closer, they could see how handsome he was and what fine armour he was wearing.

‘Well, good morning, ladies,’ he said, getting off his horse. ‘That’s a splendid tree you have there. Gold and silver! If I could have a branch of it, you could have anything you wanted in exchange.’

‘Oh, yes, the tree belongs to us,’ said One Eye.

‘It’s completely ours,’ said Three Eyes. ‘I’ll break off a branch for you.’

But when she tried, there was the same result as before, and One Eye had no success either. However quickly they reached for a branch, it would always snatch itself out of their reach.

‘That’s odd,’ said the knight. ‘You say the tree is yours, but it won’t let you pick anything from it.’

‘Oh, it’s ours all right,’ said One Eye.

‘It’s just shy,’ said Three Eyes. ‘Probably because you’re looking.’

‘Let me have another go,’ said One Eye.

But as they were speaking, Two Eyes lifted the barrel a little, and rolled out some of the golden apples towards the knight’s feet. The knight saw them, and stepped back in astonishment.

‘I say! Where did they come from?’ he said.

‘Well, we’ve got another sister, but she—’

‘She looks a bit odd, you see, because she’s got two eyes, and—’

‘Well, we keep her out of sight. We don’t want to shame the family.’

‘I’d like to see her,’ said the knight. ‘Two Eyes, wherever you are, come out!’

Two Eyes managed to lift the barrel off and stood up. The knight was amazed at how lovely she was.

‘And can you break off a branch for me, Two Eyes?’ he said.

‘Yes, I can,’ said Two Eyes, ‘because the tree belongs to me.’

And with the greatest of ease she climbed the tree and broke off a branch with beautiful silver leaves and gold fruit, and gave it to the knight.

‘And what would you like in return, Two Eyes?’ he said.

‘Ah,’ said Two Eyes, ‘I have nothing but hunger and thirst, sorrow and distress from early morning till late at night. If you could take me away from all that, I’d be grateful.’

The knight lifted her on to his horse and took her to his father’s castle. He gave her some beautiful clothes and enough to eat and drink to her heart’s content, and because he’d fallen in love with her, he married her; and the wedding was celebrated joyfully all through the kingdom.

After Two Eyes had been taken away by the handsome knight, her two sisters were consumed with envy. But at least the beautiful tree is still ours, they thought, and even if we can’t pick the gold apples, people will stop to admire it, and who knows what good luck may flower from that?