An Icelandic saga about the endurance of true love and female power. Which may have inspired Andersen's Snow Queen, but certainly has inspired some of my own works, including the finale of my Ringstetten Saga's second arc... replacing the foreign bride with a pistol duel against the male lead's brother-in-law, but still we find the Ringstetten heir quenching his thirst in an emotion-erasing spring and his conscience caught at the eleventh hour by the fiancée he left behind, now doing menial labour (Katia as a "German" barmaid at the local inn) and not having given up hope of their reunion...
See this as your intro to Icelandic sagas --this being an easy-to-understand one without any of the Westeros-style clan feuds and genealogy. Also starring a resourceful shero, and featuring folk motifs (wicked stepmother, Lethe, menial shero, conscience-catching show à la
Hamlet...) that anyone may recognise at least from once before.
The Mastermaid cycle, which has parallels in Tristan and Isolde of Arthurian lore, as well as Sigurd the Dragonslayer and his valkyrie Brynhild, exists in countless versions throughout the North, from Iceland into Eastern Europe, for there are also Slavic versions, the so-called Czudo Yudo tales (in which the czarevich's oblivion comes from being kissed by a younger sibling, and their father the czar is the one stricken with the fatal thirst, which causes frog-humanoid lake kelpie Czudo Yudo to grab a hold of his beard -this was centuries before Peter the Great- until the czar gives the frogman his eldest son and heir in exchange; the master maid is Czudo Yudo's human foster child Varvara Krasa).
Also, this is my own retelling. So I omitted the whole stepmother arc and added some more plothole removal and motivations for Aslaug, the rival bride... just to concentrate on what is essential in this tale.
THE SAGA OF GEIRLAUG AND GRETHARI
'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.
