At first her stepmother and stepsisters met her with caresses, telling her that they had been without a light from the moment of her departure; they could not strike a light in any way, and if anybody brought one from the neighbours, it went out directly it was carried into the room. ‘Perhaps your light will last,’ said the stepmother. When they carried the skull into the room its eyes shone brightly and looked continually at the stepmother and her daughters. All their efforts to hide themselves were vain; wherever they rushed they were ceaselessly pursued by the eyes, and before dawn had been burnt to ashes, though Vasilissa was unharmed.
In the morning the girl buried the skull in the ground, locked up the house and visited the town, where she asked admission into the home of a certain old woman who was without kindred. Here she lived quietly and awaited her father. But one day she said to the old woman, ‘It tires me to sit idle, granny! Go off and buy me some of the best flax; I will busy myself with spinning.’
The old woman purchased the flax and Vasilissa sat down to spin. The work proceeded rapidly, and the thread when spun was as smooth and fine as a small hair. The thread lay in heaps, and it was time to begin weaving, but a weaver’s comb could not be found to suit Vasilissa’s thread, and nobody would undertake to make one. Then the girl had recourse to her doll, who said, ‘Bring me an old comb that has belonged to a weaver, and an old shuttle, and a horse’s mane, and I will do everything for you.’ Vasilissa obtained everything necessary, and lay down to sleep. The doll, in a single night, made a first-rate loom. Towards the end of winter linen had been woven of so fine a texture that it could be drawn through the needle where the thread should pass.
In spring the linen was bleached, and Vasilissa said to the old woman, ‘Sell this linen, granny, and keep the money for yourself.’
The old woman glanced at the work and said with a sigh, ‘Ah! my child, nobody but a tsar would wear such linen. I will take it to the palace.’
She went to the royal dwelling, and walked up and down in front of the windows. When the tsar saw her he said, ‘What do you desire, old woman?’
‘Your Majesty,’ she answered, ‘I have brought some wonderful material, and will show it to nobody but yourself.’
The tsar ordered that she should be admitted, and marvelled when he saw the linen. ‘How much do you ask for it?’ he enquired.
‘It is not for sale, Tsar and Father! I have brought it as a gift.’ The tsar thanked her, and sent her away with some presents.
Some shirts for the tsar were cut out from this linen, but a seamstress could nowhere be found to complete them. At last the tsar summoned the old woman and said to her, ‘You were able to spin and weave this linen, so you will be able to sew together some shirts from it.’
‘Tsar, it was not I who spun and wove the linen; it is the work of a beautiful maiden.’
‘Well, let her sew them!’
The old woman returned home and related everything to Vasilissa. The girl said in reply, ‘I knew that this work would not pass out of my hands.’ She shut herself in her room and began the undertaking; soon without resting her hands, she had completed a dozen shirts.
The old woman bore them to the tsar, while Vasilissa washed herself and combed her hair, dressed and then took a seat at the window, and there awaited events. She saw a royal servant come to the old woman’s house. He entered the room and said, ‘The Tsar-Emperor desires to see the skilful worker who made his shirts, and to reward her out of his royal hands.’
Vasilissa presented herself before the tsar. So much did she please him that he said, ‘I cannot bear to separate from you; become my wife!’ The tsar took her by her white hands, placed her beside himself, and the wedding was celebrated.
Vasilissa’s father quickly returned to rejoice at his daughter’s good fortune and to live with her. Vasilissa took the old woman into the palace, and never separated from the little doll, which she kept in her pocket.
THE MIDWIFE AND THE FROG
(HUNGARIAN)
y grandmother’s mother was a midwife – the queen’s midwife, as we used to say, because she drew her pay from the parish, which in our eyes meant the whole country.
One night she was called away to assist at a childbirth. It was about midnight. It was pitch dark on the road and it was raining. When the woman was delivered of her babe – God let her have a good one – my great-grandmother started off homeward. On the road she came across a big frog. It was hopping along right in front of her. My great-grandmother had always had a holy fear of frogs, and she cried out in terror, ‘Get out of my way, you hideous creature! Why on earth are you hopping around me? Is it a midwife you may be wanting?’
And thus she was conversing with the frog as she proceeded on her way, and the frog jumped closer and closer to her. Once it got right under her feet, and she stepped on it. It gave such a shriek that my great-grandmother almost jumped out of her shoes. Well, she went home leaving the frog on the road, and the frog hopped off to some place, wherever it had its abode.
Back at home, my great-grandmother went to bed. Suddenly she heard a cart driving into the yard. She thought there was another childbirth where her assistance would be needed. Soon she saw the door open. Two men came in; both were very dark-skinned. They were both spindleshanks; their legs looked like a pair of pipestems, and their heads were as big as a bushel. They greeted her with, ‘Good evening,’ and then said, ‘We want to take you along, mother; you must come and help with a birth.’
She said, ‘Who is it?’ as it is the custom of a midwife to enquire where her assistance is wanted.
One of the men said, ‘On the road you promised my wife to help her with the child when her time came.’
And this gave my great-grandmother something to think of, because she had not met a single soul on her way back, except the frog. ‘It’s true’ she thought to herself, ‘I asked her by way of a joke “Is it a midwife you’re looking for? I might come and help you too.”’
The two men said to her, ‘Do not tarry, mother.’
But she said to them, ‘I’m not going with you because I’ve met no human creature and I’ve promised nothing.’
But they were so insistent that she should keep her promise that finally she said, ‘Well, as you are so keen on taking me along, I’ll go with you.’
She thought to herself that in any case she’d take her rosary with her, and that if she would pray, God would not forsake her, wherever she’d be taken by the two men. And then the men left her alone, and she began to dress. She dressed herself quite neatly, and when she was ready she asked the men, ‘Is it a long journey? Shall I put on more warm clothes?’
‘We aren’t going far. It will take us an hour and a half or so to get back. But hurry up, mother, because my wife was in a bad state when I left her.’
Then she finished dressing and went out with the two men. They put her in their black coach and soon were driving up a big mountain. It was Magyarós Mountain, not far from the banks of the Szucsáva. As they were driving along, suddenly the mountain opened up before them, and they drove straight through the split, right into the centre of the mountain. They pulled up before a house and one of the men opened the door for her.
‘Well, you go in to her,’ he said. ‘You’ll find my wife there. She’s lying on the floor.’
And as she stepped through the door, she beheld a small woman lying on the floor. She, too, had a head as big as a bushel. She looked ill and was groaning terribly.
My great-grandmother said to her, ‘You’re in a bad state, daughter, aren’t you? But have no fear. God will deliver you of your burden, and then you’ll feel well again.’
The woman then said to my great-grandmother, ‘Don’t say that God will help me. My husband must not hear you saying it.’
The midwife asked, ‘What else could I say?’
‘Say the gyivák [a type of devil] will help you.’
Then my great-grandmother – we had it from her own mouth – felt as if the words had fr
ozen on her lips, so alarmed did she grow at the thought of what place she had been brought to. No sooner had she thought about it than the child was born, a spindleshanks, with legs as thin as pipestems and a head as big as a stewpot. My great-grandmother thought to herself, ‘Well, I was brought here, but how am I to get back?’ So she turned to the woman. ‘Well, your men have brought me to your place, but how can I get back? It’s pitch dark outside. I couldn’t find my way back home alone.’
The sick woman then said, ‘Do not worry about that. My husband will take you back to the same place he brought you from.’ And then she asked my great-grandmother, ‘Well, mother, do you know who I am?’
‘I couldn’t say I do. I’ve asked your husband a few questions about you, but he didn’t tell me a thing. He said I should go with them and I’d learn in time who you were.’
‘Well, you know who I am? I am the frog you kicked about on the road and trod under your feet. Now, this should serve as a lesson that if you happen to come across some creature like me at about midnight or an hour past it, do not speak to it, nor take heed of what you see. Just pass along on your way. You see, you stopped to talk to me and made a promise to me. So you had to be brought here, because I was that frog you met on the road.’
Then my great-grandmother said, ‘I’ve done my job here; now get me back to my home.’
Then the man came in and asked her, ‘Well, what would you want me to pay for your troubles?’
Then the old midwife said, ‘I don’t want you to pay me anything. Get me right back to the place you brought me from.’
The man said, ‘Do not worry. We still have half an hour or so to get you back. But now let me take you to our larder so that you may see for yourself that we are doing well. You needn’t fear that we haven’t the wherewithal to pay for your services.’
And my great-grandmother followed him to the larder. In the larder she beheld all sorts of food heaped on the shelves: flour and bacon and firkins of lard here, and loaves of bread and cream there and a lot of other things, all arranged in neat order, to say nothing of veritable mounds of gold and silver.
‘Now you can see for yourself what plenty there is. Whatever the rich men and the wealthy farmers deny to the poor in their greed becomes ours and goes into our storeroom.’ And he turned to my great-grandmother and said, ‘Well, mother, let’s get along. There isn’t much time left for us to get you back to your home. Take of this gold an apronful, as I see you have on your Sunday apron.’
And he insisted on her taking an apronful of gold. He wouldn’t let her leave the larder until she had filled her apron with it.
When she had put the gold in her apron, she was taken to the top of Magyarós Mountain by the same coach in which she had first come. But dawn was already coming on, and soon the cock uttered its first crow. Then the men pushed her from the black coach – though they were still near the top – and said to her, ‘Trot along, mother, you can find your way home from here.’
And when she took a look at her apron to make sure that she had the gold, there was nothing whatever in her apron; that heap of gold had vanished into thin air.
And that is all there is to the story; you can take it from me.
PART TEN
BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE
FAIR, BROWN AND TREMBLING
(IRISH)
ing Aedh Cúrucha lived in Tir Conal, and he had three daughters, whose names were Fair, Brown, and Trembling.
Fair and Brown had new dresses, and went to church every Sunday. Trembling was kept at home to do the cooking and work. They would not let her go out of the house at all; for she was more beautiful than the other two, and they were in dread she might marry before themselves.
They carried on in this way for seven years. At the end of seven years the son of the king of Omanya fell in love with the eldest sister.
One Sunday morning, after the other two had gone to church, the old henwife came into the kitchen to Trembling, and said, ‘It’s at church you ought to be this day, instead of working here at home.’
‘How could I go?’ said Trembling. ‘I have no clothes good enough to wear at church. And if my sisters were to see me there, they’d kill me for going out of the house.’
‘I’ll give you,’ said the henwife, ‘a finer dress than either of them has ever seen. And now tell me what dress will you have?’
‘I’ll have,’ said Trembling, ‘a dress as white as snow, and green shoes for my feet.’
Then the henwife put on the cloak of darkness, clipped a piece from the old clothes the young woman had on, and asked for the whitest robes in the world and the most beautiful that could be found, and a pair of green shoes.
That moment she had the robe and the shoes, and she brought them to Trembling, who put them on. When Trembling was dressed and ready, the henwife said, ‘I have a honey-bird here to sit on your right shoulder, and a honey-finger to put on your left. At the door stands a milk-white mare, with a golden saddle for you to sit on, and a golden bridle to hold in your hand.’
Trembling sat on the golden saddle. And when she was ready to start, the henwife said, ‘You must not go inside the door of the church, and the minute the people rise up at the end of mass, do you make off, and ride home as fast as the mare will carry you.’
When Trembling came to the door of the church there was no one inside who could get a glimpse of her but was striving to know who she was; and when they saw her hurrying away at the end of mass, they ran out to overtake her. But no use in their running; she was away before any man could come near her. From the minute she left the church till she got home, she overtook the wind before her, and outstripped the wind behind.
She came down at the door, went in, and found the henwife had dinner ready. She put off the white robes, and had on her old dress in a twinkling.
When the two sisters came home the henwife asked, ‘Have you any news today from the church?’
‘We have great news,’ said they. ‘We saw a wonderful, grand lady at the church door. The like of the robes she had we have never seen on woman before. It’s little that was thought of our dresses beside what she had on. And there wasn’t a man at the church, from the king to the beggar, but was trying to look at her and know who she was.’
The sisters would give no peace till they had two dresses like the robes of the strange lady; but honey-birds and honey-fingers were not to be found.
Next Sunday the two sisters went to church again, and left the youngest at home to cook the dinner.
After they had gone, the henwife came in and asked, ‘Will you go to church today?’
‘I would go,’ said Trembling, ‘if I could get the going.’
‘What robe will you wear?’ asked the henwife.
‘The finest black satin that can be found, and red shoes for my feet.’
‘What colour do you want the mare to be?’
‘I want her to be so black and so glossy that I can see myself in her body.’
The henwife put on the cloak of darkness, and asked for the robes and the mare. That moment she had them. When Trembling was dressed, the henwife put the honey-bird on her right shoulder and the honey-finger on her left. The saddle on the mare was silver, and so was the bridle.
When Trembling sat in the saddle and was going away, the henwife ordered her strictly not to go inside the door of the church. but to rush away as soon as the people rose at the end of mass, and hurry home on the mare before any man could stop her.
That Sunday the people were more astonished than ever, and gazed at her more than the first time, and all they were thinking of was to know who she was. But they had no chance. for the moment the people rose at the end of mass she slipped from the church, was in the silver saddle, and home before a man could stop her or talk to her.
The henwife had the dinner ready. Trembling took off her satin robe, and had on her old clothes before her sisters got home.
‘What news have you today?’ asked the henwife of the sisters when they came from
the church.
‘Oh, we saw the grand strange lady again! And it’s little that any man could think of our dresses after looking at the robes of satin that she had on! And all at church, from high to low, had their mouths open, gazing at her, and no man was looking at us.’
The two sisters gave neither rest nor peace till they got dresses as nearly like the strange lady’s robes as they could find. Of course they were not so good, for the like of those robes could not be found in Erin.
When the third Sunday came, Fair and Brown went to church dressed in black satin. They left Trembling at home to work in the kitchen, and told her to be sure and have dinner ready when they came back.
After they had gone and were out of sight, the henwife came to the kitchen and said, ‘Well, my dear, are you for church today?’
‘I would go if I had a new dress to wear.’
‘I’ll get you any dress you ask for. What dress would you like?’ asked the henwife.
A dress red as a rose from the waist down, and white as snow from the waist up; a cape of green on my shoulders; and a hat on my head with a red, a white, and a green feather in it; and shoes for my feet with the toes red, the middle white, and the backs and heels green.’
The henwife put on the cloak of darkness, wished for all these things, and had them. When Trembling was dressed, the henwife put the honey-bird on her right shoulder and the honey-finger on her left, and placing the hat on her head, clipped a few hairs from one lock and a few from another with her scissors, and that moment the most beautiful golden hair was flowing down over the girl’s shoulders. Then the henwife asked what kind of a mare she would ride. She said white, with blue and gold-coloured diamond-shaped spots all over her body, on her back a saddle of gold, and on her head a golden bridle.
Angela Carter's Book Of Fairy Tales Page 31
