The Gold-bearded Man

The Gold-Bearded Man

Once upon a time there lived a great king who had a wife and one son

whom he loved very much. The boy was still young when, one day, the

king said to his wife: “I feel that the hour of my death draws near,

and I want you to promise that you will never take another husband but

will give up your life to the care of our son.”

The queen burst into tears at these words, and sobbed out that she

would never, never marry again, and that her son’s welfare should be

her first thought as long as she lived. Her promise comforted the

troubled heart of the king, and a few days after he died, at peace with

himself and with the world.

But no sooner was the breath out of his body, than the queen said to

herself, “To promise is one thing, and to keep is quite another.” And

hardly was the last spadeful of earth flung over the coffin than she

married a noble from a neighbouring country, and got him made king

instead of the young prince. Her new husband was a cruel, wicked man,

who treated his stepson very badly, and gave him scarcely anything to

eat, and only rags to wear; and he would certainly have killed the boy

but for fear of the people.

Now by the palace grounds there ran a brook, but instead of being a

water-brook it was a milk-brook, and both rich and poor flocked to it

daily and drew as much milk as they chose. The first thing the new king

did when he was seated on the throne, was to forbid anyone to go near

the brook, on pain of being seized by the watchmen. And this was purely

spite, for there was plenty of milk for everybody.

For some days no one dared venture near the banks of the stream, but at

length some of the watchmen noticed that early in the mornings, just at

dawn, a man with a gold beard came down to the brook with a pail, which

he filled up to the brim with milk, and then vanished like smoke before

they could get near enough to see who he was. So they went and told the

king what they had seen.

At first the king would not believe their story, but as they persisted

it was quite true, he said that he would go and watch the stream that

night himself. With the earliest streaks of dawn the gold-bearded man

appeared, and filled his pail as before. Then in an instant he had

vanished, as if the earth had swallowed him up.

The king stood staring with eyes and mouth open at the place where the

man had disappeared. He had never seen him before, that was certain;

but what mattered much more was how to catch him, and what should be

done with him when he was caught? He would have a cage built as a

prison for him, and everyone would talk of it, for in other countries

thieves were put in prison, and it was long indeed since any king had

used a cage. It was all very well to plan, and even to station a

watchman behind every bush, but it was of no use, for the man was never

caught. They would creep up to him softly on the grass, as he was

stooping to fill his pail, and just as they stretched out their hands

to seize him, he vanished before their eyes. Time after time this

happened, till the king grew mad with rage, and offered a large reward

to anyone who could tell him how to capture his enemy.

The first person that came with a scheme was an old soldier who

promised the king that if he would only put some bread and bacon and a

flask of wine on the bank of the stream, the gold-bearded man would be

sure to eat and drink, and they could shake some powder into the wine,

which would send him to sleep at once. After that there was nothing to

do but to shut him in the cage.

This idea pleased the king, and he ordered bread and bacon and a flask

of drugged wine to be placed on the bank of the stream, and the

watchers to be redoubled. Then, full of hope, he awaited the result.

Everything turned out just as the soldier had said. Early next morning

the gold-bearded man came down to the brook, ate, drank, and fell sound

asleep, so that the watchers easily bound him, and carried him off to

the palace. In a moment the king had him fast in the golden cage, and

showed him, with ferocious joy, to the strangers who were visiting his

court. The poor captive, when he awoke from his drunken sleep, tried to

talk to them, but no one would listen to him, so he shut himself up

altogether, and the people who came to stare took him for a dumb man of

the woods. He wept and moaned to himself all day, and would hardly

touch food, though, in dread that he should die and escape his

tormentors, the king ordered his head cook to send him dishes from the

royal table.

The gold-bearded man had been in captivity about a month, when the king

was forced to make war upon a neighbouring country, and left the

palace, to take command of his army. But before he went he called his

stepson to him and said:

“Listen, boy, to what I tell you. While I am away I trust the care of

my prisoner to you. See that he has plenty to eat and drink, but be

careful that he does not escape, or even walk about the room. If I

return and find him gone, you will pay for it by a terrible death.”

The young prince was thankful that his stepfather was going to the war,

and secretly hoped he might never come back. Directly he had ridden off

the boy went to the room where the cage was kept, and never left it

night and day. He even played his games beside it.

One day he was shooting at a mark with a silver bow; one of his arrows

fell into the golden cage.

“Please give me my arrow,” said the prince, running up to him; but the

gold-bearded man answered:

“No, I shall not give it to you unless you let me out of my cage.”

“I may not let you out,” replied the boy, “for if I do my stepfather

says that I shall have to die a horrible death when he returns from the

war. My arrow can be of no use to you, so give it to me.”

The man handed the arrow through the bars, but when he had done so he

begged harder than ever that the prince would open the door and set him

free. Indeed, he prayed so earnestly that the prince’s heart was

touched, for he was a tender-hearted boy who pitied the sorrows of

other people. So he shot back the bolt, and the gold-bearded man

stepped out into the world.

“I will repay you a thousand fold for that good deed.” said the man,

and then he vanished. The prince began to think what he should say to

the king when he came back; then he wondered whether it would be wise

to wait for his stepfather’s return and run the risk of the dreadful

death which had been promised him. “No,” he said to himself, “I am

afraid to stay. Perhaps the world will be kinder to me than he has

been.”

Unseen he stole out when twilight fell, and for many days he wandered

over mountains and through forests and valleys without knowing where he

was going or what he should do. He had only the berries for food, when,

one morning, he saw a wood-pigeon sitting on a bough. In an instant he

had fitted an arrow to his bow, and was taking aim at the bird,

thinking what a good meal he would make off him, when his weapon fell

to the ground at the sound of the pigeon’s voice:

“Do not shoot, I implore you, noble prince! I have two little sons at

home, and they will die of hunger if I am not there to bring them

food.”

And the young prince had pity, and unstrung his bow.

“Oh, prince, I will repay your deed of mercy, said the grateful

wood-pigeon.

“Poor thing! how can you repay me?” asked the prince.

“You have forgotten,” answered the wood-pigeon, “the proverb that runs,

‘mountain and mountain can never meet, but one living creature can

always come across another.’” The boy laughed at this speech and went

his way.

By-and-by he reached the edge of a lake, and flying towards some rushes

which grew near the shore he beheld a wild duck. Now, in the days that

the king, his father, was alive, and he had everything to eat he could

possibly wish for, the prince always had wild duck for his birthday

dinner, so he quickly fitted an arrow to his bow and took a careful

aim.

“Do not shoot, I pray you, noble prince!” cried the wild duck; “I have

two little sons at home; they will die of hunger if I am not there to

bring them food.”

And the prince had pity, and let fall his arrow and unstrung his bow.

“Oh, prince! I will repay your deed of mercy,” exclaimed the grateful

wild duck.

“You poor thing! how can you repay me?” asked the prince.

“You have forgotten,” answered the wild duck, “the proverb that runs,

‘mountain and mountain can never meet, but one living creature can

always come across another.’” The boy laughed at this speech and went

his way.

He had not wandered far from the shores of the lake, when he noticed a

stork standing on one leg, and again he raised his bow and prepared to

take aim.

“Do not shoot, I pray you, noble prince,” cried the stork; “I have two

little sons at home; they will die of hunger if I am not there to bring

them food.”

Again the prince was filled with pity, and this time also he did not

shoot.

“Oh, prince, I will repay your deed of mercy,” cried the stork.

“You poor stork! how can you repay me?” asked the prince.

“You have forgotten,” answered the stork, “the proverb that runs,

‘mountain and mountain can never meet, but one living creature can

always come across another.’”

The boy laughed at hearing these words again, and walked slowly on. He

had not gone far, when he fell in with two discharged soldiers.

“Where are you going, little brother?” asked one.

“I am seeking work,” answered the prince.

“So are we,” replied the soldier. “We can all go together.”

The boy was glad of company and they went on, and on, and on, through

seven kingdoms, without finding anything they were able to do. At

length they reached a palace, and there was the king standing on the

steps.

“You seem to be looking for something,” said he.

“It is work we want,” they all answered.

So the king told the soldiers that they might become his coachmen; but

he made the boy his companion, and gave him rooms near his own. The

soldiers were dreadfully angry when they heard this, for of course they

did not know that the boy was really a prince; and they soon began to

lay their heads together to plot his ruin.

Then they went to the king.

“Your Majesty,” they said, “we think it our duty to tell you that your

new companion has boasted to us that if he were only your steward he

would not lose a single grain of corn out of the storehouses. Now, if

your Majesty would give orders that a sack of wheat should be mixed

with one of barley, and would send for the youth, and command him to

separate the grains one from another, in two hours’ time, you would

soon see what his talk was worth.”

The king, who was weak, listened to what these wicked men had told him,

and desired the prince to have the contents of the sack piled into two

heaps by the time that he returned from his council. “If you succeed,”

he added, “you shall be my steward, but if you fail, I will put you to

death on the spot.”

The unfortunate prince declared that he had never made any such boast

as was reported; but it was all in vain. The king did not believe him,

and turning him into an empty room, bade his servants carry in the huge

sack filled with wheat and barley, and scatter them in a heap on the

floor.

The prince hardly knew where to begin, and indeed if he had had a

thousand people to help him, and a week to do it in, he could never

have finished his task. So he flung himself on the ground in despair,

and covered his face with his hands.

While he lay thus, a wood-pigeon flew in through the window.

“Why are you weeping, noble prince?” asked the wood-pigeon.

“How can I help weeping at the task set me by the king. For he says, if

I fail to do it, I shall die a horrible death.”

“Oh, there is really nothing to cry about,” answered the wood-pigeon

soothingly. “I am the king of the wood-pigeons, whose life you spared

when you were hungry. And now I will repay my debt, as I promised.” So

saying he flew out of the window, leaving the prince with some hope in

his heart.

In a few minutes he returned, followed by a cloud of wood-pigeons, so

dense that it seemed to fill the room. Their king showed them what they

had to do, and they set to work so hard that the grain was sorted into

two heaps long before the council was over. When the king came back he

could not believe his eyes; but search as he might through the two

heaps, he could not find any barley among the wheat, or any wheat

amongst the barley. So he praised the prince for his industry and

cleverness, and made him his steward at once.

This made the two soldiers more envious still, and they began to hatch

another plot.

“Your Majesty,” they said to the king, one day, as he was standing on

the steps of the palace, “that fellow has been boasting again, that if

he had the care of your treasures not so much as a gold pin should ever

be lost. Put this vain fellow to the proof, we pray you, and throw the

ring from the princess’s finger into the brook, and bid him find it. We

shall soon see what his talk is worth.”

And the foolish king listened to them, and ordered the prince to be

brought before him.

“My son,” he said, “I have heard that you have declared that if I made

you keeper of my treasures you would never lose so much as a gold pin.

Now, in order to prove the truth of your words, I am going to throw the

ring from the princess’s finger into the brook, and if you do not find

it before I come back from council, you will have to die a horrible

death.”

It was no use denying that he had said anything of the kind. The king

did not believe him; in fact he paid no attention at all, and hurried

off, leaving the poor boy speechless with despair in the corner.

However, he soon remembered that though it was very unlikely that he

should find the ring in the brook, it was impossible that he should

find it by staying in the palace.

For some time the prince wandered up and down peering into the bottom

of the stream, but though the water was very clear, nothing could he

see of the ring. At length he gave it up in despair, and throwing

himself down at the foot of the tree, he wept bitterly.

“What is the matter, dear prince?” said a voice just above him, and

raising his head, he saw the wild duck.

“The king of this country declares I must die a horrible death if I

cannot find the princess’s ring which he has thrown into the brook,”

answered the prince.

“Oh, you must not vex yourself about that, for I can help you,” replied

the bird. “I am the king of the wild ducks, whose life you spared, and

now it is my turn to save yours.” Then he flew away, and in a few

minutes a great flock of wild ducks were swimming all up and down the

stream looking with all their might, and long before the king came back

from his council there it was, safe on the grass beside the prince.

At this sight the king was yet more astonished at the cleverness of his

steward, and at once promoted him to be the keeper of his jewels.

Now you would have thought that by this time the king would have been

satisfied with the prince, and would have left him alone; but people’s

natures are very hard to change, and when the two envious soldiers came

to him with a new falsehood, he was as ready to listen to them as

before.

“Gracious Majesty,” said they, “the youth whom you have made keeper of

your jewels has declared to us that a child shall be born in the palace

this night, which will be able to speak every language in the world and

to play every instrument of music. Is he then become a prophet, or a

magician, that he should know things which have not yet come to pass?”

At these words the king became more angry than ever. He had tried to

learn magic himself, but somehow or other his spells would never work,

and he was furious to hear that the prince claimed a power that he did

not possess. Stammering with rage, he ordered the youth to be brought

before him, and vowed that unless this miracle was accomplished he

would have the prince dragged at a horse’s tail until he was dead.

In spite of what the soldiers had said, the boy knew no more magic than

the king did, and his task seemed more hopeless than before. He lay

weeping in the chamber which he was forbidden to leave, when suddenly

he heard a sharp tapping at the window, and, looking up, he beheld a

stork.

“What makes you so sad, prince?” asked he.

“Someone has told the king that I have prophesied that a child shall be

born this night in the palace, who can speak all the languages in the

world and play every musical instrument. I am no magician to bring

these things to pass, but he says that if it does not happen he will

have me dragged through the city at a horse’s tail till I die.”

“Do not trouble yourself,” answered the stork. “I will manage to find

such a child, for I am the king of the storks whose life you spared,

and now I can repay you for it.”

The stork flew away and soon returned carrying in his beak a baby

wrapped in swaddling clothes, and laid it down near a lute. In an

instant the baby stretched out its little hands and began to play a

tune so beautiful that even the prince forgot his sorrows as he

listened. Then he was given a flute and a zither, but he was just as

well able to draw music from them; and the prince, whose courage was

gradually rising, spoke to him in all the languages he knew. The baby

answered him in all, and no one could have told which was his native

tongue!

The next morning the king went straight to the prince’s room, and saw

with his own eyes the wonders that baby could do. “If your magic can

produce such a baby,” he said, “you must be greater than any wizard

that ever lived, and shall have my daughter in marriage.” And, being a

king, and therefore accustomed to have everything the moment he wanted

it, he commanded the ceremony to be performed without delay, and a

splendid feast to be made for the bride and bridegroom. When it was

over, he said to the prince:

“Now that you are really my son, tell me by what arts you were able to

fulfil the tasks I set you?”

“My noble father-in-law,” answered the prince, “I am ignorant of all

spells and arts. But somehow I have always managed to escape the death

which has threatened me.” And he told the king how he had been forced

to run away from his stepfather, and how he had spared the three birds,

and had joined the two soldiers, who had from envy done their utmost to

ruin him.

The king was rejoiced in his heart that his daughter had married a

prince, and not a common man, and he chased the two soldiers away with

whips, and told them that if they ever dared to show their faces across

the borders of his kingdom, they should die the same death he had

prepared for the prince.

[From Ungarische Mährchen]

Tritill, Litill, And The Birds

Once upon a time there lived a princess who was so beautiful and so

good that everybody loved her. Her father could hardly bear her out of

his sight, and he almost died of grief when, one day, she disappeared,

and though the whole kingdom was searched through and through, she

could not be found in any corner of it. In despair, the king ordered a

proclamation to be made that whoever could bring her back to the palace

should have her for his wife. This made the young men start afresh on

the search, but they were no more successful than before, and returned

sorrowfully to their homes.

Now there dwelt, not far from the palace, an old man who had three

sons. The two eldest were allowed by their parents to do just as they

liked, but the youngest was always obliged to give way to his brothers.

When they were all grown up, the eldest told his father that he was

tired of leading such a quiet life, and that he meant to go away and

see the world.

The old people were very unhappy at the thought that they must part

with him, but they said nothing, and began to collect all that he would

want for his travels, and were careful to add a pair of new boots. When

everything was ready, he bade them farewell, and started merrily on his

way.

For some miles his road lay through a wood, and when he left it he

suddenly came out on a bare hillside. Here he sat down to rest, and

pulling out his wallet prepared to eat his dinner.

He had only eaten a few mouthfuls when an old man badly dressed passed

by, and seeing the food, asked if the young man could not spare him a

little.

“Not I, indeed!” answered he; “why I have scarcely enough for myself.

If you want food you must earn it.” And the beggar went on.

After the young man had finished his dinner he rose and walked on for

several hours, till he reached a second hill, where he threw himself

down on the grass, and took some bread and milk from his wallet. While

he was eating and drinking, there came by an old man, yet more wretched

than the first, and begged for a few mouthfuls. But instead of food he

only got hard words, and limped sadly away.

Towards evening the young man reached an open space in the wood, and by

this time he thought he would like some supper. The birds saw the food,

and flew round his head in numbers hoping for some crumbs, but he threw

stones at them, and frightened them off. Then he began to wonder where

he should sleep. Not in the open space he was in, for that was bare and

cold, and though he had walked a long way that day, and was tired, he

dragged himself up, and went on seeking for a shelter.

At length he saw a deep sort of hole or cave under a great rock, and as

it seemed quite empty, he went in, and lay down in a corner. About

midnight he was awakened by a noise, and peeping out he beheld a

terrible ogress approaching. He implored her not to hurt him, but to

let him stay there for the rest of the night, to which she consented,

on condition that he should spend the next day in doing any task which

she might choose to set him. To this the young man willingly agreed,

and turned over and went to sleep again. In the morning, the ogress

bade him sweep the dust out of the cave, and to have it clean before

her return in the evening, otherwise it would be the worse for him.

Then she left the cave.

The young man took the spade, and began to clean the floor of the cave,

but try as he would to move it the dirt still stuck to its place. He

soon gave up the task, and sat sulkily in the corner, wondering what

punishment the ogress would find for him, and why she had set him to do

such an impossible thing.

He had not long to wait, after the ogress came home, before he knew

what his punishment was to be! She just gave one look at the floor of

the cave, then dealt him a blow on the head which cracked his skull,

and there was an end of him.

Meanwhile his next brother grew tired of staying at home, and let his

parents have no rest till they had consented that he also should be

given some food and some new boots, and go out to see the world. On his

road, he also met the two old beggars, who prayed for a little of his

bread and milk, but this young man had never been taught to help other

people, and had made it a rule through his life to keep all he had to

himself. So he turned a deaf ear and finished his dinner.

By-and-by he, too, came to the cave, and was bidden by the ogress to

clean the floor, but he was no more successful than his brother, and

his fate was the same.

Anyone would have thought that when the old people had only one son

left that at least they would have been kind to him, even if they did

not love him. But for some reason they could hardly bear the sight of

him, though he tried much harder to make them comfortable than his

brothers had ever done. So when he asked their leave to go out into the

world they gave it at once, and seemed quite glad to be rid of him.

They felt it was quite generous of them to provide him with a pair of

new boots and some bread and milk for his journey.

Besides the pleasure of seeing the world, the youth was very anxious to

discover what had become of his brothers, and he determined to trace,

as far as he could, the way that they must have gone. He followed the

road that led from his father’s cottage to the hill, where he sat down

to rest, saying to himself: “I am sure my brothers must have stopped

here, and I will do the same.”

He was hungry as well as tired, and took out some of the food his

parents had given him. He was just going to begin to eat when the old

man appeared, and asked if he could not spare him a little. The young

man at once broke off some of the bread, begging the old man to sit

down beside him, and treating him as if he was an old friend. At last

the stranger rose, and said to him: “If ever you are in trouble call

me, and I will help you. My name is Tritill.” Then he vanished, and the

young man could not tell where he had gone.

However, he felt he had now rested long enough, and that he had better

be going his way. At the next hill he met with the second old man, and

to him also he gave food and drink. And when this old man had finished

he said, like the first: “If you ever want help in the smallest thing

call to me. My name is Litill.”

The young man walked on till he reached the open space in the wood,

where he stopped for dinner. In a moment all the birds in the world

seemed flying round his head, and he crumbled some of his bread for

them and watched them as they darted down to pick it up. When they had

cleared off every crumb the largest bird with the gayest plumage said

to him: “If you are in trouble and need help say, ‘My birds, come to

me!’ and we will come.” Then they flew away.

Towards evening the young man reached the cave where his brothers had

met their deaths, and, like them, he thought it would be a good place

to sleep in. Looking round, he saw some pieces of the dead men’s

clothes and of their bones. The sight made him shiver, but he would not

move away, and resolved to await the return of the ogress, for such he

knew she must be.

Very soon she came striding in, and he asked politely if she would give

him a night’s lodging. She answered as before, that he might stay on

condition that he should do any work that she might set him to next

morning. So the bargain being concluded, the young man curled himself

up in his corner and went to sleep.

The dirt lay thicker than ever on the floor of the cave when the young

man took the spade and began his work. He could not clear it any more

than his brothers had done, and at last the spade itself stuck in the

earth so that he could not pull it out. The youth stared at it in

despair, then the old beggar’s words flashed into his mind, and he

cried: “Tritill, Tritill, come and help me!”

And Tritill stood beside him and asked what he wanted. The youth told

him all his story, and when he had finished, the old man said: “Spade

and shovel do your duty,” and they danced about the cave till, in a

short time, there was not a speck of dust left on the floor. As soon as

it was quite clean Tritill went his way.

With a light heart the young man awaited the return of the ogress. When

she came in she looked carefully round, and then said to him: “You did

not do that quite alone. However, as the floor is clean I will leave

your head on.”

The following morning the ogress told the young man that he must take

all the feathers out of her pillows and spread them to dry in the sun.

But if one feather was missing when she came back at night his head

should pay for it.”

The young man fetched the pillows, and shook out all the feathers, and

oh! what quantities of them there were! He was thinking to himself, as

he spread them out carefully, how lucky it was that the sun was so

bright and that there was no wind, when suddenly a breeze sprang up,

and in a moment the feathers were dancing high in the air. At first the

youth tried to collect them again, but he soon found that it was no

use, and he cried in despair: “Tritill, Litill, and all my birds, come

and help me!”

He had hardly said the words when there they all were; and when the

birds had brought all the feathers back again, Tritill, and Litill, and

he, put them away in the pillows, as the ogress had bidden him. But one

little feather they kept out, and told the young man that if the ogress

missed it he was to thrust it up her nose. Then they all vanished,