Folk-lore and Legends: German Part 17

On the demise of the owner only a youngest son can inherit the Alraun.

To inherit it effectually he must place a loaf of white bread and a piece of money in the coffin of his father, to be buried along with his corpse. If he fail to do so, then is the possession, like many others of great name in the world, of no value to him. Should, however, the youngest son fail before the father, then the Alraun rightfully belongs to the eldest, but he must also place bread and money in the coffin of his brother, as well as in that of his father, to inherit it to any purpose.

THE GOOSE-GIRL.

The king of a great land died, and left his queen to take care of their only child. This child was a daughter, who was very beautiful, and her mother loved her dearly and was very kind to her. When she grew up, she was betrothed to a prince who lived a great way off; and as the time drew near for her to be married, she got ready to set off on her journey to his country. The queen, her mother, packed up a great many costly things--jewels, gold and silver trinkets, fine dresses, and, in short, everything that became a royal bride. She gave her a waiting-maid to ride with her and give her into the bridegroom's hands, and each had a horse for the journey. The princess' horse was called Falada, and could speak.

When the time came for them to set out, the aged mother went into the princess's bedchamber, took a knife, and having cut her finger till it bled, let three drops of the blood fall upon a handkerchief, and gave it to the princess, saying--

"Take care of it, dear child, for it is a charm that may be of use to you on the road."

They all took a sorrowful leave of the princess, and she put the handkerchief into her bosom, got upon her horse, and set off on her journey to her bridegroom's kingdom.

One day as they were riding along by a brook, the princess began to feel very thirsty, and said to her maid--

"Pray get down, and fetch me some water in my golden cup out of yonder brook, for I want to drink."

"Nay," said the maid, "if you are thirsty, get off yourself and stoop down by the water and drink. I shall not be your waiting-maid any longer."

The princess got down, and knelt over the brook and drank, for she was frightened, and dared not bring out her cup; and she wept, and said--

"Alas! what will become of me?"

The three drops of blood answered her, and said--

"Alas, alas! if thy mother knew it, Sadly, sadly, would she rue it."

The princess was very gentle and meek, so she said nothing to her maid's ill-behaviour, but got upon her horse again.

They all rode further on their journey, till the day grew so warm and the sun so scorching that the bride began to feel very thirsty again; and at last, when they came to a river, she forgot her maid's rude speech, and said--

"Pray get down, and fetch me some water to drink in my cup."

But the maid answered her, and even spoke more haughtily than before--

"Drink if you will, but I shall not be your waiting-maid."

Then the princess got off her horse, and lay down, and held her head over the running stream, and cried and said--

"What will become of me?"

And the drops of blood answered her again as before. As the princess leaned down to drink, the handkerchief on which was the blood fell from her bosom and floated away on the water, but the princess was so frightened that she did not notice it. Her maid, however, saw it, and was very glad, for she knew the charm, and she saw that the poor bride would be in her power now that she had lost the drops of blood. So when the bride had done drinking, and would have got upon Falada again, the maid said--

"I will ride upon Falada, and you may have my horse instead;" so the princess was forced to give up her horse, and soon afterwards to take off her royal clothes and put on her maid's shabby ones.

At last, as they drew near the end of their journey, this treacherous servant threatened to kill her mistress if she ever told any one what had happened; but Falada saw it all, and marked it well.

Then the waiting-maid got upon Falada, while the real bride rode upon the other horse, and they went on in this way until they came at last to the royal court. There was great joy at their coming, and the prince flew to meet them, and lifted the maid from her horse, thinking she was the one who was to be his wife. She was led upstairs to the royal chamber, but the true princess was told to stay in the court below.

Now the old king happened just then to have nothing else to do, so he was amusing himself by sitting at his window looking at what was going on, and he saw her in the courtyard. As she looked very pretty, and too delicate for a waiting-maid, he went up into the royal chamber to ask the bride who it was she had brought with her that was thus left standing in the court below.

"I brought her with me for the sake of her company on the road,"

replied she. "Pray give the girl some work to do, that she may not be idle."

The king could not for some time think of any work for her to do, but at last he said--

"I have a lad who takes care of my geese, she may go and help him."

Now the name of this lad, whom the princess was to help in watching the king's geese, was Conrad.

The false bride said to the prince--

"Dear husband, pray do me one piece of kindness."

"That I will," said the prince.

"Then tell one of your knackers to cut off the head of the horse I rode upon, for it was very unruly, and plagued me sadly on the road."

In reality she was very much afraid lest Falada should some day or other speak, and tell all that she had done to the princess. She carried her point, and the faithful Falada was killed. When the true princess heard of it she wept, and begged the man to nail up Falada's head over a large dark gate of the city, through which she had to pa.s.s every morning and evening, that there she might see him sometimes. The slaughterer said he would do as she wished, and he cut off the head, and nailed it up under the dark gate.

Early the next morning, as the princess and Conrad went through the gate, she said sorrowfully--

"Falada, Falada, there thou hangest!"

The head answered--

"Bride, bride, there thou goest!

Alas, alas! if thy mother knew it, Sadly, sadly would she rue it."

Then they went out of the city, and drove the geese on. When they were come to a meadow she sat down upon a bank there, and let down her waving locks of hair, which were like pure gold; and when Conrad saw it he ran up, and would have pulled some of the locks out, but the princess cried--

"Blow, breezes, blow!

Let Conrad's hat go!

Blow, breezes, blow!

Let him after it go!

O'er hills, dales, and rocks, Away be it whirled, Till my golden locks Are all combed and curled."

Then there came a wind so strong that it blew off Conrad's hat. Away it flew over the hills, and he was forced to turn and run after it, so that when he came back she had done combing and curling her hair, and had put it up again safely, and he could not get any of it. He was very angry and sulky, and would not speak to her; but they watched the geese until it grew dark, and then drove them homewards.

The next morning, as they were going through the dark gate, the poor girl looked up at Falada's head, and cried--

"Falada, Falada, there thou hangest!"

It answered--

"Bride, bride, there thou goest!