The Juniper Tree and Other Tales Read online

  The beggar took her hand and led her out, and she had to go away with him on foot. When they entered a large forest, she asked, “Who owns this fine forest?”

  “King Throstlebeard, whom you mocked without cause.

  If you had married him it would be yours.”

  “Poor me, my fate is yet worse than I feared.

  I wish I had married King Throstlebeard.”

  Then they came to a meadow, and she asked again, “Who owns this fine green meadow?”

  “King Throstlebeard, whom you mocked without cause.

  If you had married him it would be yours.”

  “Poor me, my fate is yet worse than I feared.

  I wish I had married King Throstlebeard.”

  After that they passed through a great city, and she asked again, “Who owns this fine great city?”

  “King Throstlebeard, whom you mocked without cause.

  If you had married him it would be yours.”

  “Poor me, my fate is yet worse than I feared.

  I wish I had married King Throstlebeard.”

  “I don’t like to hear you keep wishing for a different husband,” said the minstrel. “Don’t you think me good enough for you?” At last they came to a tiny little house, and she said:

  “Who owns this hovel, so cramped and small?

  I don’t know who can live here at all.”

  “We do,” replied the minstrel, “it is my house and yours, where we shall live together.”

  She had to bend low as she passed through the doorway. “Where are the servants?” she asked.

  “What do you mean, servants?” replied the beggar man. “If you want anything done, you must do it yourself. Now light a fire, put water on to boil, and then you can cook me a meal. I’m very tired.”

  The King’s daughter had no idea how to light a fire or cook anything, so the beggar man had to lend a hand himself to get a small meal on the table. When they had eaten it, they went to bed, but in the morning he roused her early to get up and do the housework. They lived as best they could like this for a few more days, eating their sparse stock of provisions. Then the beggar man said, “Wife, we can’t go on like this, eating what we have and earning nothing. You’d better weave some baskets.”

  He went out to cut willow shoots and brought them home. His wife began weaving them, but the hard willow hurt her tender hands and made them sore. “I see that won’t do either,” said the man. “You’d better try spinning instead; maybe you’ll be better at that.” So she sat down and tried to spin, but the hard threads soon cut her soft fingers and made the blood run down. “Well, you’re no good for any kind of work,” said her husband. “I got a bad bargain in you. I’m going to try setting up as a dealer in earthenware pots and other crockery, and you can sit in the marketplace and offer the wares for sale.” Oh dear, she thought, suppose anyone from my father’s kingdom comes to market here and sees me sitting with crockery for sale, how they will laugh at me! But it was no use; she had to do as she was told if they were not to die of starvation.

  The first time she took their earthenware to market all went well. People were happy to buy from the young woman because she was beautiful, and they paid what she asked. Indeed, some of them even gave her the money and let her keep the earthenware pots as well. So now they lived on the money they had made as long as it lasted. After that the man bargained for another set of earthenware crocks again. She sat on a corner of the marketplace with them, offering them for sale. Then a drunken hussar suddenly rode up at the gallop and charged right into the middle of the crockery so that it broke into a thousand pieces. She began shedding tears, and she was so frightened that she didn’t know what to do. “Oh, what will become of me?” she cried. “What will my husband say?” She hurried home and told him about the accident.

  “What an idea!” said the man. “Who would think of sitting at the corner of the marketplace to sell earthenware pots? Well, stop your crying; I can see you’re no use for any real work. So I’ve been up to our King’s castle to ask if they could do with a kitchen maid, and they promised me to take you on. You’ll get free food in return.”

  So now the King’s daughter was a kitchen maid. She had to help the cook and do the heaviest work. She put a little pot into each of her two pockets, tying them on a string, brought what leftover food she was given home in them, and they lived on that.

  One day the wedding of the King’s eldest son was to be celebrated, and the poor young woman went up to stand outside the doors of the great hall, wanting to watch. When the lights were lit and the guests arrived, each better-looking than the next and a wonderful sight to see, she thought sadly of her own fate, cursing the pride and arrogance that had humiliated her and brought her to such poverty. The servants sometimes threw her a few morsels from the delicious dishes that were being carried in and out, while the aroma of them rose to her nostrils. She put what she was given into the little pots, meaning to take it home.

  All of a sudden the King’s son came in, dressed in silk and velvet, with golden chains round his neck. When he saw the beautiful woman standing at the doorway, he took her hand, wanting to dance with her, but she resisted him in fear, because she saw that he was none other than King Throstlebeard, who had come to ask for her hand in marriage and whom she had scornfully rejected. But her resistance was no good; he led her on into the hall, and as she struggled to get away, the string from which her pockets hung broke, and the pots in them fell to the floor, spilling food and broken pieces everywhere. When the guests saw that, there was general laughter and mockery, and she was so ashamed that she wished herself a thousand leagues underground. She ran out of the door to escape, but on the stairs a man caught up with her and brought her back. When she looked at him, it was King Throstlebeard again.

  He spoke to her in friendly tones. “Don’t be afraid, for I and the minstrel you’ve been living with in that wretched little house are one and the same. For love of you I disguised myself, and I was also the hussar who broke all your pots riding through them. I did it only to break your pride and punish you a little for your mockery of me.”

  Then she wept bitterly, saying, “I did very wrong, and I am not good enough to be your wife.”

  However, he said, “Be comforted, those bad days are over, and now we will celebrate our wedding.”

  So lady’s maids came and dressed her in the most magnificent clothes, and her father came to the wedding, and his whole court, and wished her well on her marriage to King Throstlebeard. Only then did the real rejoicings begin, and I wish that you and I had been there ourselves.

  THE COAT OF MANY FURS

  THE COAT OF MANY FURS

  ONCE UPON A TIME there was a King whose wife had golden hair, and she was so beautiful that no woman like her was to be found anywhere on earth. It so happened that she fell ill, and when she felt that she was about to die she called for the King and said, “If you want to marry again after my death, don’t choose a woman who is not as beautiful as me, and does not have such golden hair. You must promise me that.” And when the King had promised her, she closed her eyes and died.

  The King was inconsolable for a long time, and never thought at all of taking a second wife. At last his councillors said, “This won’t do, the King must marry again so that we have a queen.” They sent out messengers far and wide in search of a bride as beautiful as the dead Queen, but there wasn’t such a woman in the whole world, and even if they had found a truly beautiful woman there were none with the same golden hair. So the messengers came back without a new bride.

  As it happened, the King had a daughter who was just as beautiful as her dead mother, and had the same golden hair. One day, when she had grown up, the King looked at her, saw that she was exactly like his dead wife in every way, and suddenly he fell violently in love with her. He told his councillors, “I will marry my daughter. She is the very image of my late wife, and I’ll never find her equal anywhere else.”

  The councillors were horrifie
d, and said, “God has forbidden fathers to marry their daughters. No good can come of such a sin, and it will bring the whole kingdom to ruin.” The daughter was even more shocked when she heard of her father’s decision, but she hoped she could get him to change his mind. So she said to him, “Before I agree to what you want, I must have three dresses, one as golden as the sun, one as silver as the moon, and one that sparkles like the stars. And I also want a coat made of a thousand different furs and animal pelts. Every animal in your kingdom must give a piece of its skin to make it.” For she thought to herself: That can’t possibly be done, and I shall have made my father think better of his terrible idea.

  But the King didn’t change his mind. He sent for the most skilful young needlewomen in the kingdom to make the three dresses, one as golden as the sun, one as silver as the moon and one that sparkled like the stars. And his huntsmen had to catch specimens of all the animals in his kingdom, take pieces of their skin from them, and the pieces were made into a coat of a thousand furs. At last, when it was all ready, the King had the coat brought in, spread it out in front of his daughter and said, “Tomorrow will be our wedding day.”

  When the King’s daughter saw that there was no hope left of changing her father’s mind, she decided to run away. That night, when everyone was asleep, she got up and took three of her treasures, a golden ring, a little golden spinning wheel and a golden clasp. She put the three dresses like the sun, the moon and the stars into a nutshell, flung the coat of many furs around her, and blackened her face and hands with soot. Then she commended her soul to God and went away.

  She walked all night until she came to a great forest, and because she was tired, she sat down in a hollow tree and went to sleep. The sun rose, she slept on, and she was still sleeping when it was bright daylight. Then the King to whom the forest belonged happened to go hunting there. When his hounds came to the tree they caught the girl’s scent and ran around the tree, barking. The King told his huntsmen, “Go and see what kind of animal is hiding there.”

  The huntsmen did as he said, and when they came back, they said, “There’s a very strange animal in the hollow tree, and we’ve never seen the like of it before. Its skin is made of a thousand different furs, and it is lying there asleep.”

  “Well,” said the King, “see if you can catch it alive, and then tie it to the cart and we’ll take it back with us.”

  When the huntsmen took hold of the girl, she woke in a fright, and cried out to them, “I’m only a poor girl abandoned by my father and mother. Have pity on me, and take me with you.”

  “Well, Many-Furs,” they said, “you’d be good enough to work in the kitchen, so come with us and you can sweep up the ashes on the hearth.” So they put her on the cart and drove home to the royal castle. There she was given a tiny shed under the stairs where no daylight came, and they said, “Little wild beast, you can live and sleep in there.” After that she was sent to the kitchen, where she carried firewood and water, kept the fire going, plucked the poultry, prepared vegetables, swept up the ashes and did all kinds of hard work.

  Poor Many-Furs lived a very hard life in the kitchen for a long time. What was to become of her, the beautiful daughter of a king? One day, when there was to be a great banquet in the castle, with feasting and dancing, she said to the cook, “May I go up and watch, just for a little while? I’ll take care to stand outside the doors of the banqueting hall.”

  “Yes, off you go, then,” said the cook. “But mind you’re back here in half an hour’s time to sweep up the ashes.”

  So she took her little oil lamp, went into her little shed, took off the coat of many furs and washed the soot off her face and hands, revealing all her beauty once again. Then she opened the nutshell and took out the dress as golden as the sun. When she had done that, she went up to the banquet, where everyone stood aside for her, because none of the guests knew her, but they were sure that she must be a king’s daughter. The King himself came to welcome her, gave her his hand and danced with her. In his heart, he thought: I have never set eyes on such a beautiful woman before. When the dance was over, she bowed to the King, and as he looked around she disappeared. No one knew where she had gone. The guards standing outside the castle were summoned and questioned, but they hadn’t seen anyone come out.

  Meanwhile the girl had run down to her little shed, quickly took off her dress, blackened her face and hands and put on her coat, and once again she was Many-Furs. When she went into the kitchen to set about her work, and was going to sweep up the ashes, the cook said, “You can leave that until tomorrow. Make the soup for the King instead, while I go up to take a look at the festivities myself. But mind you don’t let a hair fall in the soup, or you’ll get nothing to eat in future.”

  So the cook went off, and Many-Furs made the King’s soup. She made as good a bread soup as she could, and when it was ready she fetched her golden ring from the shed under the stairs, and put it into the dish in which the soup was served. When the dancing was over, the King called for the soup to be brought in and ate it, and it was so delicious that he thought he had never tasted such good soup before. But as he came to the bottom of the dish, he saw a golden ring lying in it, and he couldn’t think how it had come there. So he ordered the cook to be brought before him. The cook was alarmed when he heard that, and he said to Many-Furs, “I’m sure you let a hair fall into the soup, and if that’s the case then you’ll get a beating.”

  When the cook came before the King, the King asked who had made the soup. “I did,” said the cook. However, the King said, “That’s not true, because it was made in quite a different way and tasted much better than usual.” So then the cook replied, “I must admit, then, that no, I didn’t make it. It was made by that little creature in the coat of many furs.”

  “Away with you, then,” said the King, “and send the little creature up to me.”

  When Many-Furs came in, the King asked, “Who are you?” and she replied, “I’m a poor child who has no mother and father any more.” So the King asked, “And what are you doing in my castle?” She replied, “I’m good for nothing but to have boots thrown at me.” The King went on, “Where did you get the ring that was in the soup?” However, when she said, “I don’t know anything about a ring,” the King had to let her go again, and still he was none the wiser.

  Some time later there was another great banquet, and as before Many-Furs asked the cook for permission to go and look. He said, “Yes, but come back in half an hour’s time to make the bread soup that the King likes so much.” Then she ran to her little shed, quickly washed herself, took the dress that was as silver as the moon out of the nutshell and put it on. Then she went upstairs looking like the daughter of a king. The King welcomed her, and was delighted to see her again, and because dancing was just beginning they danced together. However, when the dance was over she ran away once more, so fast that the King couldn’t see where she was going. She ran into the little shed, made herself into Many-Furs again and went back to the kitchen to make the bread soup. When the cook was upstairs, looking at the banquet for himself, she fetched the tiny golden spinning wheel and put it in the dish, so that the soup was poured over it. After that it was taken up to the King, who ate it, and thought it tasted just as good as the last time. He had the cook summoned, and once again the cook had to admit that Many-Furs had made the soup. Once again the King sent for Many-Furs, but when asked what she was doing in the castle, she said again that she was good only to have boots thrown at her, and she claimed to know nothing about the little golden spinning wheel.

  When the King held a third banquet, everything happened as it had on the other two occasions. The cook did say, “You must be a witch, Many-Furs. You put something in the soup to make it taste so good that the King likes it better than anything I cook for him.” However, she begged him so hard to let her go and look that he let her take half an hour off work. She put on the dress that sparkled like the stars, and stepped into the banqueting hall in it. The King danc
ed with the beautiful young woman again, and thought that she was even lovelier than before. And while he was dancing, he put a gold ring on her finger without her noticing. He had given orders for the dance to last a very long time today, and when it ended, he tried to keep hold of her hands, but she tore herself away and mingled with the others there so quickly that she seemed to disappear before his eyes. Then she ran as fast as she could to her little shed under the stairs, but because she had stayed away from the kitchen too long, for over half an hour, she had no time to take off the beautiful dress. She simply threw the coat of many furs over it, and in her haste she didn’t manage to rub her face and hands with soot all over, but one finger stayed white. Then Many-Furs ran to the kitchen, made the King his bread soup, and while the cook was out of the room she put her golden clasp into it.

  When he saw the clasp at the bottom of the dish, the King had Many-Furs summoned. Then he caught sight of the white finger and saw the ring that he had put on it as they were dancing. He seized her hand and held it fast, and when she tried to break loose and run away the fur coat fell a little way apart to show the dress sparkling like the stars. The King took hold of the coat and stripped it off her, so that her golden hair came into view tumbling down, and there she stood in her full glory and couldn’t hide herself any longer. And when she had wiped the soot and ashes off her face, she was more beautiful than anyone ever seen before on earth. As for the King, he said, “You are my beloved bride, and we will never be parted again.” Thereupon the wedding was celebrated, and they lived happily together until the end of their days.