The Juniper Tree and Other Tales Page 8
Early next morning the journeyman miller set off with the animal, thinking it was still his own donkey, the one that could spit gold. At midday he reached his father’s house. The tailor was delighted to see him again, and welcomed him in.
“So what’s become of you, my son?” asked the old tailor.
“I’m a miller now, dear father,” said the young man.
“And what have you brought back from your travels?”
“Only a donkey.”
“There are more than enough donkeys around here,” said his father. “I’d rather have had a good goat.”
“Ah,” said the son, “but this is no ordinary donkey. He’s a gold-donkey—when I say ‘Bricklebrit’, that good little animal will shed enough gold pieces to cover a whole cloth. Just ask our relations to come and visit us, and I’ll make them all rich.”
“I like the sound of that,” said the tailor. “Then I can put my needle and thread away and stop work!” And he himself hurried around inviting their relations to visit. As soon as they had all assembled the miller told them to stand back, and then he spread out his cloth and led the donkey into the room.
“Now, watch this!” said the young miller, and he called, “Bricklebrit!” But what came out of the donkey wasn’t gold, and showed that the animal didn’t know the trick of it at all, as indeed not every donkey does. Well, the poor miller looked very downcast, seeing that he’d been cheated, and he apologized to the family, who went home as poor as they had come. There was nothing for it, the old man had to go back to his needle and thread, and his son found work with a local miller.
The third brother had apprenticed himself to a turner, and because that’s a highly skilled trade his apprenticeship was the longest. But his brothers sent him a letter, telling him about their bad luck and how the landlord of the inn had cheated them of their wonderful gifts the evening before they came home. When the turner had learnt his trade and was about to set out on his travels, his master gave him a sack as a present for doing so well, and said, “There’s a cudgel in that sack.”
“I can sling the sack around me,” said the young man, “and I’m sure it will be very useful, but what good is the cudgel? It will only weigh the sack down.”
“I’ll tell you what use it is,” said the master turner. “If anyone harms you, then you have only to say, ‘Out of the sack, cudgel’, and that cudgel will fly around beating the man who means you ill, leading him such a merry dance that he won’t be able to move for a week, and it won’t stop until you say, ‘Back in the sack, cudgel!’”
The journeyman turner thanked him, slung the sack around him, and when anyone came too close and looked like attacking him he said, “Out of the sack, cudgel!” The cudgel would jump out at once and thump away on the attacker’s coat or jacket, not even waiting for him to take it off first. It all happened so quickly that it was the next villain’s turn before he knew it.
At evening the young turner came to the inn where his brothers had been tricked. He put his sack down on the table in front of him and began telling the company about all the wonderful things he had seen in the world. “Oh yes,” said he, “you may find a wishing table that lays itself, a donkey that spits gold and suchlike, all very good things in their way and indeed I don’t despise them, but they can’t hold a candle to the treasure I’ve gained. I have it here with me in this sack.”
The landlord pricked up his ears. Aha, he thought, what in the world can the treasure be? I dare say that sack is full of jewels, and it’s only right that they should be mine, because all good things come in threes.
When it was time to go to sleep, the guest stretched out on a bench and put his sack under his head for a pillow. As soon as the landlord thought the young man was fast asleep, he went over and very gently and cautiously pulled and tugged at the sack, to see if he could get it out and put another one there instead. This was just what the turner had been waiting for. When the landlord was about to give a final good tug, he cried, “Out of the sack, cudgel!” And immediately the cudgel jumped out and began beating the landlord black and blue. The man yelled for mercy, but the louder he shouted the harder the cudgel kept time with his yells, thudding down on his back, until at last he fell to the floor exhausted.
“Now then,” said the turner, “give me back the wishing table and the donkey that spits gold, or we’ll dance that dance all over again.”
“No, no!” cried the landlord, in a faint voice. “I’ll happily give it all back, only make that terrible demon go back inside the sack again!”
So the journeyman turner said, “I’ll show mercy as well as justice, but be careful what you do in future!” Then he said, “Back in the sack, cudgel!” and let the cudgel rest.
Next morning the turner went home to his father with the wishing table and the donkey that could shed gold. The tailor was very glad to see him, and asked him in his own turn what he had learnt while he was away.
“Dear Father,” said the young man, “I’ve become a turner.”
“That’s a skilled trade,” said his father. “And what have you brought back from your travels?”
“Something very valuable, dear Father,” replied his son. “A cudgel in this sack.”
“What!” cried his father. “A cudgel! That was hardly worth your while. You can cut a cudgel from any tree.”
“Not a cudgel like this one, dear Father. If I say, ‘Out of the sack, cudgel!’, then the cudgel will jump out and lead anyone who means me harm a merry dance, and it won’t stop beating him until he’s lying on the ground begging for mercy. Look, this cudgel helped me to get back the wishing table and the gold-donkey stolen from my brothers by that thieving landlord. So send for both my brothers and invite all our relations too. I want to give them a feast of good food and drink, and fill their pockets with gold.”
The old tailor could hardly believe his son’s story, but he sent for his other two sons and all their relations. Then the turner spread a cloth on the floor of the room, led the donkey in, and told his brother the miller, “Go on, dear brother, speak to him.”
“Bricklebrit,” said the miller, and at once a shower of gold pieces fell on the cloth. They might have been raining down from a cloudburst, and the donkey didn’t stop until all the tailor’s guests had so much gold in their pockets that they couldn’t carry any more. (And I’m sure you’d have liked to be there yourself.)
Then the turner brought in the little table and told his brother the joiner, “Dear brother, speak to it.” As soon as the joiner had said, “Little table, lay yourself,” the table was covered with a cloth and richly laid with the finest of dishes. Then there was such a banquet as the good tailor had never seen in his house before, and all the family stayed until night, very merry and content. The tailor put his needle and thread, his yardstick and his smoothing iron away in a cupboard, and lived in joy and prosperity with his three sons.
But where did the goat go—the goat whose fault it was that the tailor turned his three sons out of the house? I’ll tell you. She was ashamed of her shaven head, so she found a fox’s earth and crawled into it. When the fox came home he saw a pair of large eyes glowing in the dark, and he was so frightened that he ran away again. Then the bear met him, and seeing how scared the fox looked he said, “What’s the matter, brother Reynard, why do you look like that?”
“Oh,” said Reynard the fox, “there’s a terrible creature in my earth, staring at me with its fiery eyes.”
“We’ll soon drive it away,” said the bear, and he went to the earth and looked in, but when he saw the fiery eyes himself he was frightened too. He wanted nothing to do with the fierce creature, and took to his heels.
The bee met the bear, and when she saw how upset he was she said, “Bear, you look terrible, and you’re usually so cheerful. What’s happened?”
“It’s all very well for you to talk,” said the bear, “but there’s a terrible creature with great goggling eyes in brother Reynard’s earth, and we can’t drive it out.�
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“I feel sorry for you, Bear. I’m only a poor, weak little insect, and you and the fox wouldn’t usually spare me a glance, but I believe I can help you.”
Then she flew into the fox’s earth, settled on the goat’s smooth, shaven head, and stung the goat so badly that the animal jumped up, bleating and bleating, ran out into the wide world like a creature run mad, and to this day nobody knows where she went.
THE ROBBER BRIDEGROOM
THE ROBBER BRIDEGROOM
ONCE THERE WAS A MILLER who had a beautiful daughter, and when she grew up he wanted to see her married and well provided for. If the right kind of man comes courting, thought the miller, I’ll let him have her.
Soon afterwards along came a man who seemed to be very rich, and since the miller could see nothing wrong with him he promised to let the man marry his daughter. But the girl herself couldn’t love him as a promised bride should love her bridegroom, and she didn’t trust him either—for whenever she looked at him or even thought about him, she felt cold horror in her heart.
One day he said to her, “You know you are my promised bride, but you never come to visit me.”
“I don’t know where your house is,” replied the girl.
“My house is out in the dark forest,” said the bridegroom.
Well, the girl made excuses, and said she would never be able to find the way.
But the bridegroom said, “You must come and visit me at home next Sunday. I’ve already invited guests, and I’ll sprinkle ashes along the path to help you find your way through the forest.”
So Sunday came, and the girl set off along the path, but she felt very frightened, she didn’t quite know why. She filled both of her pockets with peas and lentils to mark the way for herself. She walked almost all day long, and when she came to the middle of the forest, where it was at its darkest, there stood a lonely house. The house looked so dark and eerie that she didn’t like it at all. She went in, but there was no one there, and the place was completely silent.
Suddenly she heard a voice calling:
“Turn back, turn back, you fair young bride.
Foul murderers in this house abide.”
The girl looked up, and saw that the voice came from a bird hanging in a cage on the wall. Once again it called:
“Turn back, turn back, you fair young bride.
Foul murderers in this house abide.”
Well, the beautiful bride went on from room to room, all over the house, but the place was empty and there wasn’t a human soul to be seen. At last she came to the cellar, and she found an old, old woman sitting there and nodding her head.
“Can you tell me if my bridegroom lives in this house?” said the girl.
“Oh, you poor child,” said the old woman, “what a trap you’ve fallen into! This is a den of murderers. You think you are a promised bride who’s soon to be married, but your wedding will be with death. Look, I’ve been told to put a great cauldron of water on to boil. Once they have you in their power they will chop you up without mercy and cook and eat you, because they are cannibals who eat human flesh, and if I don’t take pity on you and save you, then you’re done for.”
Then the old woman took the girl over to hide behind a big barrel where she would be out of sight. “Keep quiet as a mouse,” she said, “don’t make the slightest movement, or it will all be up with you. We’ll escape at night once the robbers are asleep. I’ve been waiting a long time for a chance like this.”
As soon as the girl was in hiding the wicked robbers came home. They were drunk, they were dragging another young girl along with them, and they took no notice of her weeping and wailing. They gave her three glasses of wine to drink, a glass of white wine, a glass of red wine and a glass of yellow wine, and when she had drunk the wine her heart broke. Then they tore off her fine clothes, put her on a table, hacked her beautiful body to pieces and sprinkled it with salt. The poor bride behind the barrel was trembling and shivering to see the fate the robbers had intended for her. One of them noticed a gold ring on the murdered girl’s little finger, and when he found it couldn’t be pulled off at once he took a hatchet and chopped the finger from her hand. But the finger flew up in the air above the barrel, and then fell straight into the bride’s lap.
The robber picked up a light to help him look for it, but he couldn’t find it anywhere.
“Have you looked behind the big barrel?” asked one of the other men.
But the old woman called out, “Come along and eat now, do, and leave looking for it until tomorrow—the finger won’t run away.”
“The old woman is right,” said the robbers. They stopped searching for the finger and sat down to eat. And the old woman added a sleeping draught to their wine, so they soon lay down in the cellar, fell asleep and started snoring.
When the bride heard their snores she came out from behind the barrel. She had to step over the sleeping robbers, who were lying on the floor in rows, and she was dreadfully afraid of waking one of them. But God helped her to escape from the cellar safely. The old woman climbed up the stairs with her and opened the gates, and they hurried away from the robbers’ den as fast as they could go. The wind had blown away the sprinkled ashes, but the peas and lentils had put out green shoots and showed them the way by moonlight.
They walked all night and came to the mill in the morning. Then the girl told her father everything that had happened.
When the wedding day came the bridegroom arrived, and the miller had invited all his own friends and relations.
They sat down to table, and everyone had to tell a story, but the bride kept quiet, saying nothing.
Then the bridegroom said to her, “Well, my dear, don’t you know any stories? Tell us a tale yourself.”
“Very well,” said she, “I’ll tell you the story of a dream I had. I was walking through a forest alone, and at last I came to a house. There wasn’t a human soul inside, only a bird in a cage on the wall, and the bird called out:
‘Turn back, turn back, you fair young bride.
Foul murderers in this house abide.’
“And the bird repeated those words once more. But my dear, it was only a dream. So I passed through all the rooms, and they were empty, and it felt so strange in that house. At last I went down to the cellar, and there sat an old, old woman, nodding her head. ‘Does my bridegroom live in this house?’ I asked her. ‘Oh, you poor child,’ she replied, ‘you’ve fallen into a den of murderers. Yes, your bridegroom lives here, but he is going to chop you up and kill you, and after that he will cook and eat you.’ But my dear, it was only a dream. However, the old woman hid me behind a big barrel, and as soon as I was in hiding the robbers came home, dragging a young girl with them. They gave her three kinds of wine to drink, white, red and yellow, and the wine broke her heart. But my dear, it was only a dream. Then they took off her fine clothes, chopped her beautiful body into pieces on a table and sprinkled it with salt. But my dear, it was only a dream. Then one of the robbers saw that there was still a gold ring on the girl’s finger, and because it was hard to pull the ring off at once he picked up a hatchet and chopped the finger off her hand. But the finger flew up in the air, came down behind the big barrel and fell into my lap. And here’s the finger, and there’s the ring still on it.”
With these words, she brought out the ring and showed it to the company.
The robber, whose face had turned white as a sheet while she told her tale, jumped up and tried to run away, but the wedding guests captured him and handed him over to the law. And he and all his band were executed for their wicked crimes.
THE JUNIPER TREE
THE JUNIPER TREE
LONG, LONG AGO, perhaps as much as two thousand years before this day, there was a rich man who had a good and beautiful wife, and they loved each other dearly, but they had no children. They wanted children very much, and the woman prayed for a child day and night, but still no children came. There was a yard outside their house where a juniper tree grew, and one
day in winter the woman stood under the tree peeling herself an apple. As she was peeling the apple she cut her finger, and the blood fell on the snow.
“Oh,” said the woman, sighing as she looked at the blood and feeling very sad at heart, “oh, if only I had a child as red as blood and as white as snow.”
As she spoke her spirits lifted, and she felt as if some good would come of her wish. Then she went indoors, and a month passed by, and the snow melted. After two months, everything was green and growing. After three months, the flowers came out of the ground, and after four months all the trees in the woods were putting out leaves, with their green branches twining together. The little birds sang so loud that the whole forest echoed to the sound, and blossom fell from the trees. When the fifth month was over the woman stood under the juniper tree again. It smelled so sweet that her heart leapt for joy, and she fell on her knees, hardly able to contain her gladness. After the sixth month had passed the fruit of the tree was growing large and thick, and the woman became very quiet. In the seventh month she picked the juniper berries and ate them greedily. Then she felt sad and sick, and when the eighth month had passed she called for her husband and wept, saying, “If I should die, bury me under the juniper tree.”
After that she felt comforted, and she was happy until the ninth month was over. Then she had a child as white as snow and as red as blood, and when she saw it, she was so glad that she died of joy.
Her husband buried her under the juniper tree, and he began to weep bitterly. He wept for a while, and after that his tears didn’t flow as freely, and when he had wept a little more they dried up entirely, and he married another wife.
He and his second wife had a daughter, while the first wife’s child had been a little boy, a son as red as blood and as white as snow. When the second wife looked at her daughter she loved her dearly, but when she saw the little boy the sight cut her to the heart, and she felt as if he were always in her way. She kept wondering how she could make sure that the little girl inherited all her husband’s property. The Evil One put it into her heart to ill-treat the boy, and she was always pushing him about, punching him and pinching him, so that the poor child went in fear of her. She gave him not a moment’s peace when he came home from school.