Andrew Lang_Fairy Book 08 (10 page)

In the morning the eagle returned and saw traces of a fight below
the tree, and here and there a handful of yellow mane lying about,
and here and there a hard scaly substance; when he saw that he
rejoiced greatly, and hastened to the nest.

'Who has slain the lindworm?' he asked of his children; there were
so many that he did not at first miss the two which the lindworm
had eaten. But the eaglets answered that they could not tell, only
that they had been in danger of their lives, and at the last moment
they had been delivered. Then the sunbeam had struggled through
the thick branches and caught Wildrose's golden hair as she lay
curled up in the corner, and the eagle wondered, as he looked,
whether the little girl had brought him luck, and it was her magic
which had killed his enemy.

'Children,' he said, 'I brought her here for your dinner, and you have
not touched her; what is the meaning of this?' But the eaglets did
not answer, and Wildrose opened her eyes, and seemed seven times
lovelier than before.

From that day Wildrose lived like a little princess. The eagle flew
about the wood and collected the softest, greenest moss he could
find to make her a bed, and then he picked with his beak all the
brightest and prettiest flowers in the fields or on the mountains to
decorate it. So cleverly did he manage it that there was not a fairy
in the whole of the forest who would not have been pleased to sleep
there, rocked to and fro by the breeze on the treetops. And when
the little ones were able to fly from their nest he taught them where
to look for the fruits and berries which she loved.

So the time passed by, and with each year Wildrose grew taller and
more beautiful, and she lived happily in her nest and never wanted
to go out of it, only standing at the edge in the sunset, and looking
upon the beautiful world. For company she had all the birds in the
forest, who came and talked to her, and for playthings the strange
flowers which they brought her from far, and the butterflies which
danced with her. And so the days slipped away, and she was
fourteen years old.

One morning the emperor's son went out to hunt, and he had not
ridden far, before a deer started from under a grove of trees, and
ran before him. The prince instantly gave chase, and where the stag
led he followed, till at length he found himself in the depths of the
forest, where no man before had trod.

The trees were so thick and the wood so dark, that he paused for a
moment and listened, straining his ears to catch some sound to
break a silence which almost frightened him. But nothing came, not
even the baying of a hound or the note of a horn. He stood still,
and wondered if he should go on, when, on looking up, a stream of
light seemed to flow from the top of a tall tree. In its rays he could
see the nest with the young eaglets, who were watching him over
the side. The prince fitted an arrow into his bow and took his aim,
but, before he could let fly, another ray of light dazzled him; so
brilliant was it, that his bow dropped, and he covered his face with
his hands. When at last he ventured to peep, Wildrose, with her
golden hair flowing round her, was looking at him. This was the
first time she had seen a man.

'Tell me how I can reach you?' cried he; but Wildrose smiled and
shook her head, and sat down quietly.

The prince saw that it was no use, and turned and made his way out
of the forest. But he might as well have stayed there, for any good
he was to his father, so full was his heart of longing for Wildrose.
Twice he returned to the forest in the hopes of finding her, but this
time fortune failed him, and he went home as sad as ever.

At length the emperor, who could not think what had caused this
change, sent for his son and asked him what was the matter. Then
the prince confessed that the image of Wildrose filled his soul, and
that he would never be happy without her. At first the emperor felt
rather distressed. He doubted whether a girl from a tree top would
make a good empress; but he loved his son so much that he
promised to do all he could to find her. So the next morning
heralds were sent forth throughout the whole land to inquire if
anyone knew where a maiden could be found who lived in a forest
on the top of a tree, and to promise great riches and a place at court
to any person who should find her. But nobody knew. All the girls
in the kingdom had their homes on the ground, and laughed at the
notion of being brought up in a tree. 'A nice kind of empress she
would make,' they said, as the emperor had done, tossing their
heads with disdain; for, having read many books, they guessed what
she was wanted for.

The heralds were almost in despair, when an old woman stepped
out of the crowd and came and spoke to them. She was not only
very old, but she was very ugly, with a hump on her back and a bald
head, and when the heralds saw her they broke into rude laughter.
'I can show you the maiden who lives in the tree-top,' she said, but
they only laughed the more loudly.

'Get away, old witch!' they cried, 'you will bring us bad luck'; but
the old woman stood firm, and declared that she alone knew where
to find the maiden.

'Go with her,' said the eldest of the heralds at last. 'The emperor's
orders are clear, that whoever knew anything of the maiden was to
come at once to court. Put her in the coach and take her with us.'

So in this fashion the old woman was brought to court.

'You have declared that you can bring hither the maiden from the
wood?' said the emperor, who was seated on his throne.

'Yes, your Majesty, and I will keep my word,' said she.

'Then bring her at once,' said the emperor.

'Give me first a kettle and a tripod,' asked the old w omen, and the
emperor ordered them to be brought instantly. The old woman
picked them up, and tucking them under her arm went on her way,
keeping at a little distance behind the royal huntsmen, who in their
turn followed the prince.

Oh, what a noise that old woman made as she walked along! She
chattered to herself so fast and clattered her kettle so loudly that
you would have thought that a whole campful of gipsies must be
coming round the next corner. But when they reached the forest,
she bade them all wait outside, and entered the dark wood by
herself.

She stopped underneath the tree where the maiden dwelt and,
gathering some dry sticks, kindled a fire. Next, she placed the
tripod over it, and the kettle on top. But something was the matter
with the kettle. As fast as the old woman put it where it was to
stand, that kettle was sure to roll off, falling to the ground with a
crash.

It really seemed bewitched, and no one knows what might have
happened if Wildrose, who had been all the time peeping out of her
nest, had not lost patience at the old woman's stupidity, and cried
out: 'The tripod won't stand on that hill, you must move it!'

'But where am I to move it to, my child?' asked the old woman,
looking up to the nest, and at the same moment trying to steady the
kettle with one hand and the tripod with the other.

'Didn't I tell you that it was no good doing that,' said Wildrose,
more impatiently than before. 'Make a fire near a tree and hang the
kettle from one of the branches.'

The old woman took the kettle and hung it on a little twig, which
broke at once, and the kettle fell to the ground.

'If you would only show me how to do it, perhaps I should
understand,' said she.

Quick as thought, the maiden slid down the smooth trunk of the
tree, and stood beside the stupid old woman, to teach her how
things ought to be done. But in an instant the old woman had
caught up the girl and swung her over her shoulders, and was
running as fast as she could go to the edge of the forest, where she
had left the prince. When he saw them coming he rushed eagerly to
meet them, and he took the maiden in his arms and kissed her
tenderly before them all. Then a golden dress was put on her, and
pearls were twined in her hair, and she took her seat in the
emperor's carriage which was drawn by six of the whitest horses in
the world, and they carried her, without stopping to draw breath, to
the gates of the palace. And in three days the wedding was
celebrated, and the wedding feast was held, and everyone who saw
the bride declared that if anybody wanted a perfect wife they must
go to seek her on top of a tree.

(Adapted from file Roumanian.)

Once upon a time there lived a poor man who had more children
than bread to feed them with. However, they were strong and
willing, and soon learned to make themselves of use to their father
and mother, and when they were old enough they went out to
service, and everyone was very glad to get them for servants, for
they worked hard and were always cheerful. Out of all the ten or
eleven, there was only one who gave his parents any trouble, and
this was a big lazy boy whose name was Tiidu. Neither scoldings
nor beatings nor kind words had any effect on him, and the older he
grew the idler he got. He spent his winters crouching close to a
warm stove, and his summers asleep under a shady tree; and if he
was not doing either of these things he was playing tunes on his
flute.

One day he was sitting under a bush playing so sweetly that you
might easily have mistaken the notes for those of a bird, when an
old man passed by. 'What trade do you wish to follow, my son?' he
asked in a friendly voice, stopping as he did so in front of the youth.

'If I were only a rich man, and had no need to work,' replied the
boy, 'I should not follow any. I could not bear to be anybody's
servant, as all my brothers and sisters are.'

The old man laughed as he heard this answer, and said: 'But I do
not exactly see where your riches are to come from if you do not
work for them. Sleeping cats catch no mice. He who wishes to
become rich must use either his hands or his head, and be ready to
toil night and day, or else—'

But here the youth broke in rudely:

'Be silent, old man! I have been told all that a hundred times over;
and it runs off me like water off a duck's back. No one will ever
make a worker out of me.'

'You have one gift,' replied the old man, taking no notice of this
speech, 'and if you would only go about and play the pipes, you
would easily earn, not only your daily bread, but a little money into
the bargain. Listen to me; get yourself a set of pipes, and learn to
play on them as well as you do on your flute, and wherever there
are men to hear you, I promise you will never lack money.'

'But where am I to get the pipes from?' asked the youth.

'Blow on your flute for a few days,' replied the old man, 'and you
will soon be able to buy your pipes. By-and-by I will come back
again and see if you have taken my advice, and whether you are
likely to grow rich.' And so saying he went his way.

Tiidu stayed where he was a little longer, thinking of all the old man
had told him, and the more he thought the surer he felt that the old
man was right. He determined to try whether his plan would really
bring luck; but as he did not like being laughed at he resolved not to
tell anyone a word about it. So next morning he left home—and
never came back! His parents did not take his loss much to heart,
but were rather glad that their useless son had for once shown a
little spirit, and they hoped that time and hardship might cure Tiidu
of his idle folly.

For some weeks Tiidu wandered from one village to another, and
proved for himself the truth of the old man's promise. The people
he met were all friendly and kind, and enjoyed his flute-playing,
giving him his food in return, and even a few pence. These pence
the youth hoarded carefully till he had collected enough to buy a
beautiful pair of pipes. Then he felt himself indeed on the high road
to riches. Nowhere could pipes be found as fine as his, or played in
so masterly a manner. Tiidu's pipes set everybody's legs dancing.
Wherever there was a marriage, a christening, or a feast of any
kind, Tiidu must be there, or the evening would be a failure. In a
few years he had become so noted a piper that people would travel
far and wide to hear him.

One day he was invited to a christening where many rich men from
the neighbouring town were present, and all agreed that never in all
their lives had they heard such playing as his. They crowded round
him, and praised him, and pressed him to come to their homes,
declaring that it was a shame not to give their friends the chance of
hearing such music. Of course all this delighted Tiidu, who
accepted gladly, and left their houses laden with money and
presents of every kind; one great lord clothed him in a magnificent
dress, a second hung a chain of pearls round his neck, while a third
handed him a set of new pipes encrusted in silver. As for the ladies,
the girls twisted silken scarves round his plumed hat, and their
mothers knitted him gloves of all colours, to keep out the cold.
Any other man in Tiidu's place would have been contented and
happy in this life; but his craving for riches gave him no rest, and
only goaded him day by day to fresh exertions, so that even his own
mother would not have known him for the lazy boy who was always lying
asleep in one place or the other.

Now Tiidu saw quite clearly that he could only hope to become rich
by means of his pipes, and set about thinking if there was nothing
he could do to make the money flow in faster. At length he
remembered having heard some stories of a kingdom in the Kungla
country, where musicians of all sorts were welcomed and highly
paid; but where it was, or how it was reached, he could not
recollect, however hard he thought. In despair, he wandered along
the coast, hoping to see some ship or sailing boat that would take
him where he wished to go, and at length he reached the town of
Narva, where several merchantmen were lying at anchor. To his
great joy, he found that one of them was sailing for Kungla in a few
days, and he hastily went on board, and asked for the captain. But
the cost of the passage was more than the prudent Tiidu cared to
pay, and though he played his best on his pipes, the captain refused
to lower his price, and Tiidu was just thinking of returning on shore
when his usual luck flew to his aid. A young sailor, who had heard
him play, came secretly to him, and offered to hide him on board, in
the absence of the captain. So the next night, as soon as it was
dark, Tiidu stepped softly on deck, and was hidden by his friend
down in the hold in a corner between two casks. Unseen by the
rest of the crew the sailor managed to bring him food and drink,
and when they were well out of sight of land he proceeded to carry
out a plan he had invented to deliver Tiidu from his cramped
quarters. At midnight, while he was keeping watch and everyone
else was sleeping, the man bade his friend Tiidu follow him on
deck, where he tied a rope round Tiidu's body, fastening the other
end carefully to one of the ship's ropes. 'Now,' he said, 'I will
throw you into the sea, and you must shout for help; and when you
see the sailors coming untie the rope from your waist, and tell them
that you have swum after the ship all the way from shore.'