The Story of the Swan Maiden and the King
Once upon a time a king went out hunting, and after he had been hunting in the forest
for a long time without finding anything, he found himself suddenly in an open plain, in
which there was a huge lake, and in the midst of the lake he saw there a bird swimming
about, the like of which he had never seen before. It was a swan.
Drawing his bow, he wanted to shoot it. To his surprise it spoke to him in a human
voice, and said, "Do not kill me."
So he tried his best to catch it, and succeeded. Pleased with the capture of the bird,
he carried it home alive, and gave it to the cook to kill it to make a meal of it for him.
The cook was a Gypsy. She whetted her knife and went to the bird to cut its throat, when,
to her astonishment, the bird turned three somersaults, and there stood before her a most
beautiful maiden, more beautiful than she had ever seen before. So she ran to the king and
told him what had happened.
The king, who first thought that the cook was trying to play some trickery with him,
did not listen to her, but when she persisted in her tale, the king, driven by curiosity,
went into the kitchen, and there he saw a girl more beautiful than any that he had ever
yet set his eyes upon.
He asked her who she was, and she said she was the swan who was swimming on the lake,
that she had willfully gone away from her mother, who lived in the land of fairies, and
that she had left two sisters behind. So the king took her into the palace and married
her. The Gypsy, who was a pretty wench, had thought that the king would marry her, and
when she saw what had happened, she was very angry. But she managed to conceal her anger,
and tried to be kind to the new queen, biding her time all the while.
The king and queen lived on for a while in complete happiness, and after a time a child
was born unto her.
It so happened that the king had to go on a long journey, leaving the wife and child in
the care of the Gypsy. One day the Gypsy came to the queen, and said to her, "Why do
you always sit in the palace? Come, let us walk a little in the garden, to hear the birds
singing, and to see the beautiful flowers."
The queen, who had no suspicion, took the advice of the Gypsy, and went with her for a
walk into the garden. In the middle of the garden there was a deep well, and the Gypsy
said artfully to the young queen, "Just bend over the well, and look into the water
below, and see whether your face has remained so beautiful as it was on the first day when
you turned into a maiden from being a swan."
The queen bent over the well to look down into the depths, and that was what the Gypsy
was waiting for, for no sooner did the queen bend over the well, than, getting hold of her
by her legs, she threw her down head foremost into the well and drowned her.
When the king came home and did not find the queen, he asked what had happened, and
where she was. The Gypsy, who had meanwhile taken charge of the child, and looked after it
very carefully, said to the king that the young queen, pining for her old home, had turned
again into a swan and flown away.
The king was deeply grieved when he heard this, but believing what the Gypsy had told
him, he thought that nothing could be done, and resigned himself to the loss of his wife.
They Gypsy woman looked after the child with great care, hoping thereby that she might
win the king's love, and that he would marry her. A month, a year passed, and nothing was
heard of the wife. And the king, seeing the apparent affection of the Gypsy for the child,
decided at last to marry her, and fixed the day of the wedding.
Out of the fountain into which the queen had been thrown, there grew a willow tree with
three branches, one stem in the middle and two branching out right and left. Not far from
the garden there lived a man who had a large flock of sheep. One day he sent his boy to
lead the sheep to the field. On his way the boy passed the king's garden with the well in
the middle of it.
As the boy had left his flute at home, when he saw the willow he thought he would cut
one of the branches and make a flute. Going into the garden, he cut the middle stem, and
made a flute of it. When he put it to his lips, the flute by itself began to play as
follows, "O boy, do not blow too hard, for my heart is aching for my little babe
which I left behind in the cradle, and to suckle at the black breast of a Gypsy."
When the boy heard what the flute was playing, not understanding what it meant, he was
greatly astonished, and ran home to tell his father what had happened with the flute. The
father, angry that he had left the sheep alone, scolded him, and took away the flute. Then
he tried to see whether the boy had told the truth. As soon as he put it to his mouth the
flute started playing the same tune as when the boy had tried to play it. The father said
nothing, and wondering at the meaning of the words he hid the flute away in a cupboard.
When the king's wedding day drew near, all the musicians of the kingdom were invited to
come and play at the banquet. Some of them passed the old man's house, and hearing from
them that they were going to play at the king's banquet, he remembered the marvelous
flute, and asked whether he could not go also, as he could play the flute so wonderfully
well.
His son -- the young boy -- had meanwhile gone into the garden in the hope of getting
another flute, as the willow had three branches. So he cut one of the branches and made a
flute of it. Now this flute did not play at all.
When the old man came to the palace, there was much rejoicing and singing. At last his
turn came to play. As soon as he put the flute to his lips, the flute sang, "O man,
do not blow so hard, for my heart aches for my little babe left in the cradle to be
suckled by a black Gypsy."
The Gypsy, who was the king's bride and sat at the head of the table, at once
understood the saying of the flute, although she did not know what the flute had to do
with the queen whom she had killed.
The king, who marveled greatly at the flute and at the tune which it was singing, took
a gold piece and gave it to the man for the flute, and when he started blowing it, the
flute began to sing, "O my dear husband, do not blow so hard, for my heart aches for
our little babe whom I left in the cradle to be sucked by the black Gypsy. Quickly,
quickly, do away with this cruel Gypsy, as otherwise you will lose your wife."
The guests who were present marveled at the song, and no one understood its meaning.
The Gypsy, however, who understood full well what it meant, turning to the king, said,
"Illustrious king, do not blow this flute and make yourself ridiculous before your
guests. Throw it into the fire."
But the king, who felt offended by the words of the Gypsy, made her take up the flute
and blow. With great difficulty she submitted to the order of the king, and she was quite
justified in refusing to play it, for no sooner had she put the flute to her lips when it
sang, "You enemy of mine, do not blow hard, for my heart aches for my little babe
left in the cradle to be suckled by you, you evil-minded Gypsy. You have thrown me into
the well, and there put an end to my life, but God had pity on me, and he has preserved me
to be again the true wife of this illustrious king."
Furious at these words, the Gypsy threw the flute away with so much force that she
thought it would break into thousands of splinters. But it was not to be as she thought,
for by this very throw the flute was changed into a beautiful woman, more beautiful,
indeed, than any had ever seen before. She was the very queen whom the Gypsy had thrown
into the well.
When the king saw her, he embraced her and kissed her, and asked her where she had been
such a long time. She told him that she had slept at the bottom of the well, into which
she had been thrown by the Gypsy, who had hoped to become the queen, and this would have
come to pass had it not been for the boy cutting a flute out of the stem of the willow
tree. "And now, punish the Gypsy as she deserves, otherwise your wife must leave
you."
When the king heard these words, he called the boy and asked him whether he had cut
himself a flute from the stem of the willow tree which had grown out of the well in the
garden.
"It is so, O illustrious king," said the boy, "and may I be forgiven for
the audacity of going into the king's garden. I went and cut for myself a flute from the
stem of the willow tree, and when I began to blow it, it played, 'Do not blow so hard, O
boy, for my heart is aching within me,' etc." Then he told him he had gone back to
his father, who instead of praising him for the marvelous flute, gave him a good shaking.
He had then gone a second time into the garden, and had cut off one of the branches to
make a flute, but this did not play like the first one. The king gave the boy a very rich
gift, and he ordered the Gypsy to be killed.
Some time afterwards, the queen came to the king and asked leave to go to her mother to
tell her all that had happened to her, and to say good-bye for ever now, as she henceforth
would live among human beings. The king reluctantly gave way. She then made three
somersaults, and again became a swan, as she had been when the king found her for the
first time on the waters of the lake.
Spreading her wings she flew far away until she reached the house of her mother, who
was quite alone. Her two sisters were not there. They had left her some time ago and no
one knew whither they had gone. The young queen did not go into the house. She was
probably afraid lest her mother would not let her go back again, so she settled on the
roof, and there she sang, "Remain in health, good mother mine, as the joy is no
longer granted you to have me with you in your house, for you will only see me again when
I lose my kingdom, dear mother mine, not before, and not till then."
And without waiting for the answer of her mother she returned back again to her
husband. Sitting on the window sill, she sang again, "Rise up, O husband, open the
doors, wake up the servants and let them be a witness of my faithfulness to you, for since
I have married you I have left my mother, and my sisters have gone away from me, and from
a swan I have become a true wife to live in happiness with you. Henceforth I shall no
longer be a swan, but you must take care of me that I do not go hence from you. I do not
know whether my fate will be a better one by being a queen in this world. O sweet water,
how I long to bathe in you! And my white feathers, they will belong to my sisters. Since I
am to leave them forever, and my mother with them, O Lord, what have I done? Shall I be
able to live upon the earth, and shall I keep the kingdom? Thou, O Lord, O merciful,
hearken unto me and grant that this kingdom may not be in vain." And turning again
head over heals, she became a woman as before, and entering the palace she lived there
with her husband -- the king -- and if they have not died since, they are still alive.
M. Gaster: Rumanian Bird and Beast Stories. London 1915, Nr. 83. (AT 400, AT
400*, AT 780, Rumänien)
top
