(In this kind of tale the prince or the princess is in the beginning under a hostile power and the wish-fulfillment consists in the desire to avoid this influence in order to be united with the heroine of the story whom we have substituted in the wish-dream with the figure of the dreamer).
He awakes saddened; for he has fallen into the power of his fiendish stepmother, who has cast the spell upon him, and must probably marry her daughter. Then he gives advice, how help may yet come through his bewitched kinsmen, and disappeared.
She follows his advice, arrives at the right time at the impending marriage of her husband with the daughter of the sorceress, obtains for her magic jewels, which she wanted, permission to sleep alternate nights with the bridegroom. He was given a sleeping potion, however, each time by the witch bride. His neighbors called his attention to what was going on and he only feigned to drink this potion on the third evening, and at night, as he hears the moans and story of suffering of his true bride lying near him, his memory returns to him, he is delivered, and the witch's power is broken.
This tale, whose single motive in similar connection often recurs, shows us again, that the spell was cast on the hero by a hostile power, the reason being that he was to marry a rival of the heroine (i. e., in the dream of the dreamer) and was unwilling to do so. That compares well with the delusions of certain patients, that their loved one is misled by others and taken away from them. The sexual rivals in the fairy tales are usually sorcerers and witches, who at the conclusion, through the wish-fulfillment of the fairy-tale dream, are very severely punished.
We do quite the same at night in similar circumstances with our own rivals in dreams.
An acquaintance had it in mind to woo a maiden. In the house of his admired he met other young people one of whom he suspected might also have intentions. After an invitation he dreamt, among other things, that he killed his adversary, with whom in waking life he was pleasantly related socially. Finally he shoved him under the piano (he himself is a good piano player) so that only the head projected, namely in the spot where otherwise the pedals would be found. Now in playing he tread upon the head of the poor rival with his feet!
The sleeping potion (in other fairy tales it is a sleep-thorn) plays, in the same connection as here, an important role in fairy tales, rarely in other significance, that is without dependence upon a sexual wish-structure. The being neglected for another, a rival, is here symbolically indicated in this manner, bearing throughout a character of dream origin. Through some means the spell is finally broken and the prince again recognizes the spurned bride by his side. The matter is so brought about that he has no blame for his forgetting and deserting, but the strange, bad influences are at fault.
Alle Gefahren des Weges überwindet die Königstochter. Wie sie zum Schlosse gelangt, wird gerade die Hochzeit gefeiert Am Abend setzt sich bei Mondschein die Prinzessin vor die Schlafkammer des Brautpaares und kämmt ihr Haar mit dem goldenen Kamme. Die Braut, die ihn gern besitzen will, bekommt ihn nur unter der Bedingung, dass die Fremde die Nacht beim Bräutigam verbringen darf. Die ganze Nacht hindurch fleht nun die Königstochter ihren Mann an, doch zu erwachen und sie wiederzuerkennen. Aber vergeblich. Die Braut hat ihm einen so starken Schlaftrunk gegeben, dass er nichts hört und sieht. Am folgenden Abend erhält sie von der Braut für ihren Halsschmuck die gleiche Erlaubnis. Am Morgen des dritten Tages macht der Vaterbruder des Bräutigams, der in der Kammer nebenan schläft, diesen darauf aufmerksam, dass etwas nicht in Ordnung sein müsse. Denn die ganze Nacht hindurch klage eine Frau an seinem Bette, er aber scheine wohl infolge eines Schlaftrunkes nichts davon zu wissen. Am Abend trinkt der Bräutigam nur scheinbar den ihm von der Braut kredenzten Trunk. Als die Königstochter für ihren Spiegel noch einmal bei ihm die Nacht verbringen darf und mit ihren Klagen und der Erzählung all' ihrer Leiden beginnt, kommt ihm nach und nach die Erinnerung an seine Gattin zurück, die er durch die Zauberkünste seiner Stiefmutter ganz vergessen hatte.
Wie der Prinz es bejaht, werden die Stiefmutter und ihre Tochter auf einmal zu furchtbaren Riesinnen. Aber sechszehn Männer, die vorher versteckt waren, überwältigen sie schliesslich und töten sie. Nun hält der Königssohn mit seiner rechtmässigen Gattin eine fröhliche Hochzeit.
Bei Gonz. (I 42 S. 285 ff.) verschwindet Re porco, weil seine Frau unbedachtsamerweise sein Geheimnis verraten hat. Sieben Jahre, 7 Monate und 7 Tage muss sie nun wandern und muss sieben Paar eiserne Schuhe durchlaufen, ehe sie ihren Gatten erlösen kann. Vier alte Einsiedler geben ihr unterwegs guten Rat und schenken ihr auch verschiedene Kostbarkeiten. Für diese darf sie dreimal beim Gatten schlafen, der jedoch in den beiden ersten Nächten von der falschen Braut durch ein Schlafmittel betäubt wurde. Die Gefangenen, die unter der Kammer des Bräutigams sich aufhalten, machen diesen endlich auf die klagende Frau aufmerksam, so dass er in der dritten Nacht des Schlaftrunkes sich enthält.
Alle Gefahren des Weges überwindet die Königstochter. Wie sie zum Schlosse gelangt, wird gerade die Hochzeit gefeiert Am Abend setzt sich bei Mondschein die Prinzessin vor die Schlafkammer des Brautpaares und kämmt ihr Haar mit dem goldenen Kamme. Die Braut, die ihn gern besitzen will, bekommt ihn nur unter der Bedingung, dass die Fremde die Nacht beim Bräutigam verbringen darf. Die ganze Nacht hindurch fleht nun die Königstochter ihren Mann an, doch zu erwachen und sie wiederzuerkennen. Aber vergeblich. Die Braut hat ihm einen so starken Schlaftrunk gegeben, dass er nichts hört und sieht. Am folgenden Abend erhält sie von der Braut für ihren Halsschmuck die gleiche Erlaubnis. Am Morgen des dritten Tages macht der Vaterbruder des Bräutigams, der in der Kammer nebenan schläft, diesen darauf aufmerksam, dass etwas nicht in Ordnung sein müsse. Denn die ganze Nacht hindurch klage eine Frau an seinem Bette, er aber scheine wohl infolge eines Schlaftrunkes nichts davon zu wissen. Am Abend trinkt der Bräutigam nur scheinbar den ihm von der Braut kredenzten Trunk. Als die Königstochter für ihren Spiegel noch einmal bei ihm die Nacht verbringen darf und mit ihren Klagen und der Erzählung all' ihrer Leiden beginnt, kommt ihm nach und nach die Erinnerung an seine Gattin zurück, die er durch die Zauberkünste seiner Stiefmutter ganz vergessen hatte.
Wie der Prinz es bejaht, werden die Stiefmutter und ihre Tochter auf einmal zu furchtbaren Riesinnen. Aber sechszehn Männer, die vorher versteckt waren, überwältigen sie schliesslich und töten sie. Nun hält der Königssohn mit seiner rechtmässigen Gattin eine fröhliche Hochzeit.
Bei Gonz. (I 42 S. 285 ff.) verschwindet Re porco, weil seine Frau unbedachtsamerweise sein Geheimnis verraten hat. Sieben Jahre, 7 Monate und 7 Tage muss sie nun wandern und muss sieben Paar eiserne Schuhe durchlaufen, ehe sie ihren Gatten erlösen kann. Vier alte Einsiedler geben ihr unterwegs guten Rat und schenken ihr auch verschiedene Kostbarkeiten. Für diese darf sie dreimal beim Gatten schlafen, der jedoch in den beiden ersten Nächten von der falschen Braut durch ein Schlafmittel betäubt wurde. Die Gefangenen, die unter der Kammer des Bräutigams sich aufhalten, machen diesen endlich auf die klagende Frau aufmerksam, so dass er in der dritten Nacht des Schlaftrunkes sich enthält.
"The Rolling Rumen":
When the queen was dead and her husband appeared inconsolable, there entered the royal halls a beautiful woman with a goblet full of wine. She let fall, unnoticed by him, a drop upon the lips of the king. Then he arouses from his brooding, drains the goblet, and forgets his dead spouse. He now marries the beautiful stranger, who naturally is a sorceress and as a bad stepmother bewitches his only daughter in his absence and changes her into an ox-maw (a cow's rumen), which in this fairy tale always has the role and attributes of a human being. The rumen is delivered by a prince whom she promises to marry. The mother of this prince suddenly sees, on the marriage night, instead of the maw a beautiful princess, takes quickly the put aside covering, that is the rumen, and burns it.
Der Vergessenheitstrank, den die Unholdin dem trauernden König reicht, ist ja schon aus der »Völsungasaga« bekannt. Er kommt in den isländischen Märchen noch einmal in der Geschichte von der »rechten Braut« vor, wo die Stiefmutter dem heimkehrenden Jüngling einen Zaubertrank gibt. Auch in dem Märchen von der »vergessenen Braut«, das sich bei vielen Völkern vorfindet und in dem meist durch einen Kuss das Vergessen bewirkt wird, wird in einer der isländischen Fassungen erzählt, dass der heimkehrende Königssohn aus einem Goldbecher Wasser getrunken und infolgedessen die Braut vergessen habe.
"Tristan and Isolde (Norse version)":
According to Rittershaus (p. 52) the drink of oblivion, which the sorceress gives to the sorrowing king, appears already in the Völsunga Saga; then further in the tale of "The True Bride" (Rittershaus, XXVII, p. 113). A royal pair had no children. When the king threatens to kill his wife if she has no child on his return from his voyage, she takes the part of one of his servants on his journey, without being recognized by him, and he takes her in his tent as the most beautiful of three wenches or camp followers. She returns home unrecognized; she bore a daughter, Isol, and died. (So Isol is by fate made an especially conspicuous being.) Isol found later on the seashore a small, very beautiful boy, in a box, named Tistram, rescues him and takes him to herself to espouse. And so Tistram is introduced as a wonder child.
The king marries a sorceress for his second wife. When he goes with Tistram on a journey she seeks to destroy the blonde Isol and to give her daughter, the dark Isota, to the returning Tistram to wife. When Tistram first inquires for his true bride the sorceress gives him a potion so that he quite forgets Isol and is willing to take Isota. Isol, whom the stepmother queen had sequestered away in a tower, comes to the court as a poor maiden, and in place of the dark Isota, who is secretly expecting a bastard child, is obliged to ride by Tistram's side in the wedding procession, disguised as his bride but is forbidden to speak to him. In order, however, to awake the old memories, she says, as they pass an old ruin:
Formerly thou hast shone upon the earth,
Now thou hast become black with earth, O my house!
and upon seeing a brook:
The prince will not go to bed with Isota that night until she explains to him what these utterances signify that she has given expression to during the ride. As she knows nothing of them she is compelled to go and ask the disguised Isol, whereat the bride-groom discovers the plot, remembers Isol and takes her for his wife.
Also in the fairy story of the "Forgotten Bride" that is met with in many peoples and in which usually a false kiss causes the forgetting. It is related in one of the Icelandic settings, that the prince, returning home, drank water (in spite of the warning of the bride!) from a golden goblet, and as a result forgot the bride.
Der Vergessenheitstrank, den die Unholdin dem trauernden Königssohn auch hier reicht, ist ja schon aus der »Völsungasaga« bekannt. Er kommt in den isländischen Märchen vor, wo die Stiefmutter dem heimkehrenden Jüngling einen Zaubertrank gibt. Auch in dem Märchen von der »vergessenen Braut«, das sich bei vielen Völkern vorfindet und in dem meist durch einen Kuss das Vergessen bewirkt wird, wird in einer der isländischen Fassungen erzählt, dass der heimkehrende Königssohn aus einem Goldbecher Wasser getrunken und infolgedessen die Braut vergessen habe. Die mündliche Überlieferung ist aber leicht etwas lückenhaft und lässt gern einzelne weniger wichtig scheinende Züge aus, wodurch dann später einige Episoden in der Erzählung unmotiviert oder unklar werden. So ist es hier mit mit dem Niederbrennen des Frauenhauses, um den vorgeblichen Tod der Braut und ihrer Dienerinnen zu motivieren, dann mit dem Vergessenheitstrank, so dass der Bräutigam die Tochter der Stiefmutter heiratet, und schliesslich dann die mit der Befreiung der Prinzessin und ihrem unerkannten Auftreten am Königshofe, wo sie die Hochzeitskleider zu nähen bekommt. Die Parallele zu unserm isländischen Märchen findet sich bei Grimm, resp. Müllenhoff, in der Erzählung von der »Jungfrau Maleen« (V S. 391 ff.). Grimm nennt es zwar in seiner Anmerkung (III S. 262) ein durch Gehalt und Vollständigkeit ausgezeichnetes Märchen, ich möchte jedoch der isländischen Überlieferung, wenn man alle drei Varianten berücksichtigt, als der vollständigeren Erzählung den Vorzug geben. Im deutschen Märchen wird das Reich zerstört, ohne dass der Bräutigam der Jungfrau Maleen sich um das Schicksal seiner Braut bekümmert hätte. Er nimmt einfach an, sie sei noch im Turme oder sei schon tot, und willigt ein, sich zu verheiraten. Diese Gleichgültigkeit des Bräutigams wird im Isländischen viel besser motiviert. Dort ist die Jungfrau angeblich in ihrem Turme verbrannt, und durch den Vergessenheitstrank denkt der Prinz nicht mehr an seinen Verlust. Die durch diese Verse langsam wiederkehrende Erinnerung und die Erkennung der rechten Braut lässt sich im Deutschen ebenso wie im Isländischen nur dadurch erklären, dass dem Bräutigam durch einen Vergessenheitstrank (oder durch einen Kuss) die Erinnerung an seine Braut abhanden kam. Diesen Trank muss er dann aber von einer Persönlichkeit bekommen haben, die seine Heirat mit der Jungfrau Maleen verhindern und mit der falschen Braut befördern wollte. Es fehlt aber die Einführung dieser Figur und die Erzählung, in welchem Verhältnis die falsche Braut zur Jungfrau Maleen steht, vollständig im deutschen Märchen. ––––
In "The True Bride" (Rittershaus) we have a wish-structure of a sexual nature from the standpoint of Isol. Here the forgetting of the bride is brought about by the sorceress, and the overcoming of the difficulty and the wish-fulfillment lies in this, that Isol is able to bring his memory back, similarly as the heroine in the "Forgotten Bride," through other means.
Isol, for example, finds the beautiful boy Tistram on the shore and rescues him in order later to espouse him. In this way is indicated the association in youth of the love and play of children as is especially brought out in other similar tales and as has been expressed prominently in Jensen's "Gradiva" in his psychological works. Jensen's Norbert Hanolt flies from the enchanted territory of love into the regions of archeological science; for him this signifies about the same as the magic potion of oblivion does for the fairy prince Tristram, although it is not apparently presented by an unfriendly rival. Jensen has nothing at all to say about it. The bas-relief of Gradiva, the peripatetic studies and the adventures in Pompeii in Jensen's novel are represented in the fairy tale of Isol by the expedition on horseback during which she endeavors to reawaken the forgotten memories of Tistram. The fairy tale pictures most beautifully the resistance which Tistram opposes to the memory. It is indicated in the materialistic, figurative speech of the fairy tale by forbidding Isol to speak directly with Tistram so that she recites these verses to herself. The bas-relief of Gradiva and these sayings signify the same thing, or the remark of Gradiva: "To me it seems as though we had eaten our bread together once like this two thousand years ago." Precisely through the false bride, who removes him from his true love, he is made to find the right one, Isol, a psychological moment, which Freud in the work mentioned demonstrates so plastically. This comparison naturally has significance for the other fairy tales which show the motive of forgetting.
In the language of fairy tales the love potion expresses precisely the indifference for everything in the world except the object of love. For the rest during this time, there is no recollection. This constellation can disappear just as quickly.
That the fairy tale thus fully recognizes and naïvely expresses the toxic nature of the state of being in love is certainly noteworthy.
After this discussion of the significance of the forgetting symbolism in fairy tales and the overcoming of the rival in the sexual wish-structure of fairy tales...
The Forgotten Bride/Grethari and Geirlauga: Wie sie sich erholt hat, wünscht sie sich, dass sie mit Græðari an die Umzäunung gekommen sei, die das Königsschloss von Græðaris Vater umschliesst. Kaum gesagt, sind sie auch schon dort. Græðari soll auf den Rat seiner Pflegeschwester sein Wickelband umbinden und dann in den Königspalast gehen. Aber er dürfe unter keiner Bedingung, so sehr es ihn auch dürste, irgend etwas trinken, ehe er mit seinem Vater gesprochen habe. Darauf trennen sich die beiden unter heissen Liebesversicherungen. Wie Græðari seines Weges zieht, quält ihn furchtbarer Durst. Er sieht auf einem Silberfasse einen mit Wasser gefüllten Goldbecher stehen, und seines Versprechens uneingedenk trinkt er aus ihm. Im gleichen Augenblicke hat er Geirlaug und seine ganze Vergangenheit vergessen. – Im Schlosse erkennt man in ihm den einst geraubten Königssohn, und nun lebt er bei den Eltern in Freuden und Herrlichkeit. – – – – Wie nach drei Stunden ihr Pflegebruder nicht zu ihr zurückkehrt, ersieht Geirlaug daraus, dass er ihr Gebot übertreten und sie vergessen hat. Sie geht nun zu einem reichen Bauern, der mit seinen beiden Töchtern in der Nähe des Schlosses wohnt, und bittet hier unter dem Namen Lauphöfða um Aufnahme. Bald verbreitet sich im Königreiche die Nachricht, dass eine unbekannte Frau zu dem Bauern gekommen sei. Diese habe die Töchter des Bauern in kurzer Zeit so trefflich unterrichtet, dass man weit und breit ihresgleichen nicht finden könne. Græðari hört auch dieses Gerücht. Er fasst mit seinen beiden besten Freunden, die ihm überallhin folgen, den Plan, an drei Abenden hintereinander die beiden Bauerntöchter und Lauphöfða aufzusuchen. Die Freunde sollen zu den Bauernmädchen gehen, während er für sich die fremde Frau wählt. Geirlaug weiss diesen Plan schon im voraus und gibt dementsprechend den Bauerntöchtern ihre Weisungen. Wie der erste Gast kommt und die Nacht mit einem der Mädchen verbringen will, hat dieses nichts dagegen. Schon liegt er im Bette, da fällt ihr auf einmal beim Auskleiden ein, dass sie vergessen habe, das Kalb der Lauphöfða festzubinden. Der Gast bietet sich an, das für sie zu tun. Leicht bekleidet geht er hinaus. Aber sowie er das Kalb anfasst, kann er sich von ihm nicht mehr lösen und wird nun die ganze Nacht von dem Tiere herumgejagt, so dass er am Morgen halbtot vor Müdigkeit und Kälte heimkehrt. Von diesem Erlebnis sagt er seinen Freunden nichts, und so ergeht es diesen nicht besser. – – – – Nach einiger Zeit soll Græðari auf den Rat seines Vaters um die Tochter eines benachbarten Königs freien. Wie er mit der Braut landet, soll das junge Paar mit dem Wagen zum Schlosse gefahren werden. Doch die Pferde sind nicht von der Stelle zu bringen. Auf den Vorschlag seiner beiden Freunde lässt Græðari die Lauphöfða um ihren jungen Stier als Vorspann bitten. Diese will ihn auch leihen, wenn sie dafür am Hochzeitstage auf einer Bank hinter dem Brautpaare sitzen dürfe. Sowie nun der Stier vor den Wagen gespannt wird, läuft er so schnell, dass das Gefährt fast zu zerbrechen droht, und die Braut für ihr Leben fürchtet. ––– Am Hochzeitstage erscheint Geirlaug mit den Bauerntöchtern und setzt sich hinter das Brautpaar. Sie hat über ein prächtiges rotes Seidenkleid ein Gewand von Birkenrinde gezogen, und einen Korb trägt sie am Arme. Wie die Fröhlichkeit am höchsten ist, nimmt sie aus ihm einen Hahn und eine Henne. Der Hahn reisst der Henne alle Federn aus, bis nur der rechte Flügel übrig ist. Da sagt die Henne zu ihm mit lauter Stimme: »Willst du auch mit mir so verfahren, wie Græðari, der Sohn des Græðari, mit der Königstochter Geirlaug verfuhr?« Wie der Königssohn das hört, wird er traurig, denn nun kehrt ihm die Erinnerung an seine Pflegeschwester und Braut zurück. Geirlaug reicht ihm als Erkennungszeichen einen Ring, dann wirft sie ihr Rindengewand ab und steht im Festkleide vor ihm. Græðari und Geirlaug heiraten einander, und die beiden Freunde die beiden Bauerntöchter. Die Tochter des Nachbarkönigs erhält aber zur Entschädigung ein halbes Königreich.
'Let us go back to your father's kingdom,' she said to Grethari Gretharisson, when they had both resumed their proper shapes, and were sitting on a high cliff above the sea. The magical girl's wicked stepmother, ruthless and sorcerous as most stepmothers were in those days, had been defeated by Geirlaug's own more powerful magic, and she and her foster brother could at least breathe in peace.
'How clever you are ! I never should have thought of that !' answered Grethari, who, in truth, was not clever at all. But Geirlaug took a small box of white powder from her dress, and sprinkled some over him and some over herself, and, quicker than lightning, they found themselves in the palace grounds, in the royal gardens from which Grethari had been carried off in his cradle by the stepmother's pet dragon so many years before.
'Now take up the linen band with your name in golden letters and bind it about your forehead,' said Geirlaug, 'and go boldly up to the castle. And, remember, however great may be your thirst, you must drink nothing till you have first spoken to your father. If you do, ill will befall us both.'
'Why should I be thirsty?' replied Grethari, staring at her in astonishment. 'It will not take me five minutes to reach the castle gate.' Geirlaug held her peace, but her eyes had in them a sad look. 'Good-bye,' she said at last, and she turned and kissed him.
Grethari had spoken truly when he declared that he could easily get to the castle in five minutes. At least, no one would have dreamed that it could possibly take any longer. Yet, to his surprise, the door which stood so widely open that he could see the colour of the hangings within never appeared to grow any nearer, while each moment the sun burned more hotly, and his tongue was parched with thirst.
'I don't understand! What can be the matter with me -- and why haven't I reached the castle long ago?' he murmured to himself, as his knees began to knock under him with fatigue, and his head to swim. For a few more paces he staggered on blindly, when, suddenly, the sound of rushing water smote upon his ears; and in a little wood that bordered the path he beheld a stream falling over a rock. At this sight his promise to Geirlaug was forgotten. Fighting his way through the brambles that tore his clothes, he cast himself down beside the fountain, and seizing the golden cup that hung from a tree, he drank a deep draught.
When he rose up the remembrance of Geirlaug and of his past life had vanished, and, instead, something stirred dimly within him at the vision of the white-haired man and woman who stood in the open door with outstretched hands.
'Grethari! Grethari! So you have come home at last,' cried they. 'To think you were just a baby when that hideous dragon swooped down on our picnic... what a comely stripling you have become,' the Queen was drying up her tears.
For three hours Geirlaug waited in the spot where Grethari had left her, and then she began to understand what had happened. Her heart was heavy, but she soon made up her mind what to do, and pushing her way out of the wood, she skirted the high wall that enclosed the royal park and gardens, till she reached a small woodland house where the forester lived with his wife and their two daughters.
'Do you want a maid to sweep, and to milk the cows?' asked she, when the forester's wife answered her knock.
'Yes, we do, very badly; and as you look strong and clean, we will take you for a servant if you like to come,' replied the young woman.
'But, first, what is your name ?'
'Laufertha,' said Geirlaug quickly, for she did not wish anyone to know who she was; and following her new mistress into the house, she begged to be taught her work without delay. And so clever was she, that, by-and-by, it began to be noised abroad that the strange girl who had come to live in the forester's house had not her equal in the whole kingdom for skill as well as beauty. Thus years slipped away, during which Geirlaug grew to be a woman. Now and then she caught glimpses of Grethari as he rode out to hunt in the forest, but when she saw him coming she hid herself behind the great trees, for her heart was still sore at his forgetfulness. One day, however, when she was gathering herbs, he came upon her suddenly, before she had time to escape, though as she had stained her face and hands brown (partly by the soil, partly by the sunburn), and covered her beautiful hair with a scarlet cap, he did not guess her to be his foster-sister.
'What is your name, pretty maiden?' asked he.
'Laufertha,' answered the girl, with a low curtsy.
'Ah ! it is you, then, of whom I have heard so much,' said he; 'you are too beautiful to spend your life serving the forester's daughters. Come with me to the palace, and my mother the queen will make you one of her ladies in waiting.'
'Truly, that would be a great fortune,' replied the maiden. 'And, if you really mean it, I will go with you. But how shall I know that you are not jesting ?'
'Give me something to do for you, and I will do it, whatever it is,' cried the young man eagerly. And she cast down her eyes, and answered:
'Go to the stable, and bind the calf that is there so that it shall not break loose in the night and wander away, for the forester and his wife and daughters have treated me well, and I would not leave them with aught of my work still undone.'
So Grethari set out for the stable where the calf stood, and wound the rope about its horns. But when he had made it fast to the wall, he found that a coil of the rope had twisted itself round his wrist, and, pull as he might, he could not get free. All night he wriggled and struggled till he was half dead with fatigue. But when the sun rose the rope suddenly fell away from him, and, very angry with the maiden, he dragged himself back to the palace. 'She is a witch,' he muttered crossly to himself, 'and I will have no more to do with her.' And be flung himself on his bed and slept all day.
Not long after this adventure the king and queen sent their beloved son on an embassy to a neighbouring country to seek a bride from amongst the seven princesses. The most beautiful of all was, of course, the one chosen, Aslaug, the fourth and middle child; and the young pair took ship without delay for the kingdom of the prince's parents. The wind was fair and the vessel so swift, that in less time than could have been expected the harbour nearest the castle was reached. A splendid carriage had been left in readiness close to the beach, but no horses were to be found, for every one bad been carried off to take part in a great military review which the king was to hold that day in honour of his son's marriage.
'I can't stay here all day,' said Aslaug crossly, when Grethari told her of the plight they were in. 'I am perfectly worn out as it is, and you will have to find something to draw the carriage, if it is only a donkey. If you don't, I will sail back straight to my father.'
Poor Grethari was much troubled by the words of his fiancée. Not that he felt so very much in love with her, for during the voyage she had shown him several times how vain and bad tempered she was; but as a prince and a bridegroom, he could not, of course, bear to think that any slight had been put upon her. So he hastily bade his attendants to go in search of some draft beast, no matter which species, and bring it at once to the place at which they were waiting.
During the long pause the princess sat in the beautiful golden coach, her blue velvet mantle powdered with silver bees drawn closely round her, so that not even the tip of her nose could be seen and marred by the sunlight. At length a girl appeared driving a young ox in front of her, followed by one of the prince's messengers, who was talking eagerly.
'Will you lend me your ox, fair maiden ?' asked Grethari, jumping up and going to meet them. 'You shall fix your own price, and it shall be paid ungrudgingly, for never before was king's son in such a plight.'
'My price is seats for me and my two friends behind you and your bride at the wedding feast,' answered she. And to this Grethari joyfully consented.
Six horses would not have drawn the coach at the speed of this one ox. Trees and fields flew by so fast that the bride became quite giddy, and expected, besides, that they would be upset every moment. But, in spite of her fears, nothing happened, and they drew up in safety at the door of the palace, to the great surprise of the king and queen. The marriage preparations were hurried on, and by the end of the week everything was ready. It was, perhaps, fortunate that the princess bride was too busy with her clothes and her jewels during this period to pay much heed to Grethari, so that by the time the wedding day came round he had almost forgotten how cross and rude and fussy she had been on the journey.
The oldest men and women in the town agreed that nothing so splendid had ever been seen as the bridal procession to the great ball, where the banquet was to be held, before the ceremony was celebrated in the palace. Princess Aslaug was in high good humour, feeling that all eyes were upon her, and bowed and smiled right and left. Taking the prince's hand, she sailed proudly down the room, where the guests were already assembled, to her place at the head of the table by the side of the bridegroom. As she did so, three strange ladies in shining dresses of blue, green, and red, glided in and seated themselves on a vacant bench immediately behind the young couple. The red lady was Geilaug, who had brought with her the forester's daughters, and in one hand she held a wand of birch bark, and in the other a closed basket.
Silently they sat as the feast proceeded; hardly anyone noticed their presence, or, if they did, supposed them to be attendants of their future queen. Suddenly, when the merriment was at its height, Geirlaug opened the basket, and out flew a bantam cockerel and hen. To the astonishment of everyone, the chickens circled about in front of the royal pair, the rooster plucking the feathers out of the tail of the hen, who tried in vain to escape from him.
'Will you treat me as badly as Grethari treated Geirlaug?' cried the hen at last. And Grethari heard, and started up wildly. In an instant all the past rushed back to him; the princess by his side was forgotten, and he only saw the face of the child with whom he had played long years ago.
'Where is Geirlaug?' he exclaimed, looking round the hall; and his eyes fell upon the strange lady. With a smile she held out a ring which he had given her on her twelfth birthday, when they were still children, without a thought of the future. 'You and none other shall be my wife,' he said, taking her hand, and leading her into the middle of the company.
It is not easy to describe the scene that followed. Of course, nobody understood what had occurred, and the king and queen imagined that their son had suddenly gone mad. As for the princess bride, her rage and fury were beyond belief. The guests left the hall as quickly as they could, so that the royal family might arrange their own affairs, and in the end it was settled that half the kingdom must be given to the despised Aslaug, instead of a husband. She sailed back at once to her country, where she was soon betrothed to a young noble of her parents' court, whom, in reality, she liked much better than Grethari. After all, she had had a reason to be that fussy throughout her betrothal! That evening Grethari was married to Geirlaug, and they lived happily till they died, and made all their people happy also.
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