Joan and the Lame Gooseherd

In a grand castle by the sea, there once lived an old lord. He lived in great loneliness, and his castle always remained empty. No youthful voices or cheerful laughter could be heard beneath its vaulted ceilings. For hours, the old lord would pace back and forth across the worn stone floor or sit by the window, gazing at the gloomy sea.

He had a little granddaughter, but he had never seen her in his life. He had taken a dislike to the child from the day she was born, for on that day her mother—the lord's beloved daughter—had died. The girl's father had gone far across the sea to fight for his king, and so she grew up alone, without parents. The poor girl would have had a very hard time indeed if it weren't for her old nurse. The nurse took Joan—that was the girl's name—to live with her, feeding her scraps from the lord's table and dressing her in tattered rags.

The old lord's attendants also treated the girl poorly—after all, their master did not love her! They mistreated her and called her a ragamuffin.

Joan spent her days playing in the castle's back courtyard or wandering alone along the seashore. Her only friend was a lame gooseherd boy. She often went to him in the fields and chatted with him for hours. The boy was a little older than her and lived on a farm near the castle.

Every morning, he would drive the geese out to the field and lead them to the pond, where they swam, splashed, and caught fish. As he did so, he played his flute, and Joan would always run over to listen. She loved his strange melodies—sometimes sad, sometimes cheerful! They told her tales of beautiful forest fairies or distant foreign lands, of unknown mountains and rivers, and in those moments, she forgot her sorrows and grievances.

Sometimes the music was so lively and light that she felt like dancing. And then even the lame gooseherd would clumsily dance along with her.

So passed the days in spring and summer. And in winter, during the long dark evenings, Joan would pull her stool closer to the fire and ask her old nurse to tell her stories of brave knights and fair ladies, of giants and ogres, or of mermaids and fairies who flew invisibly through the air.

Years went by, and Joan finally grew from a girl into a lovely young woman. But she remained friends with the lame gooseherd, and the old lord still did not love her and refused to see her.

Then one day, news spread that the king was coming to a nearby town. Messengers were sent to all the surrounding castles with invitations to the royal ball. And an invitation from the king, as everyone knows, is a command! So the old lord ordered his finest clothes to be prepared, his white horse to be saddled, and he set off for the royal ball.

At that time, Joan was sitting with her nurse by the window. She saw the old lord in his fine clothes and asked:

"Where is my grandfather going?"

"To the nearby town, to the king's ball!" replied the nurse.

"Oh, how I wish I could go with him!" sighed Joan. "Nurse, dear, go to him and ask if he'll take me along!"

"What are you saying?!" the old woman exclaimed in fear. "He'll chase me away, and it's too late anyway. Look, he's already mounting his horse!"

Indeed, while they were speaking, a small groom led the white horse into the courtyard, helped the old lord mount it, and soon all that remained was the dust from the horse's hooves in the castle yard.

Joan, as always, went out to the fields. As she walked, she dreamed of how wonderful it would be to attend the ball! She longed to catch even a glimpse of the beautiful, elegant ladies, of their majesties the king and queen, and most of all, of the young prince. She was so lost in her daydreams that she didn't notice her friend the gooseherd, who came limping toward her with his flock of geese. He stopped playing his flute and asked:

"What are you thinking about, Joan? Should I play you a cheerful tune to make you want to dance? Or a sad one to make you cry?"

"I already feel like dancing," Joan replied, "but not here. You know, I so want to go to the king's ball in the town! But I wasn't invited..."

"If you want to go to the town," said the boy, "you'll get there! And I'll come with you, and my gray geese too. It's not so hard to get there, even for a lame one like me."

And so they set off. The long road seemed short to Joan because the gooseherd played his flute the whole way.

He played so merrily and cheerfully that Joan's spirits lifted, and she sang along, twirled, and danced.

When they were almost at the town, they suddenly heard the clatter of hooves behind them, and soon a tall, handsome young man on a black horse caught up with them.

"Are you headed to the town?" he asked. "May I join you?"

"Why, of course, sir!" replied the gooseherd. "We're going to the town to see the noble guests gathering for the king's ball. If you like, let's go together—it'll be more fun."

The young man dismounted and walked beside Joan, while the lame gooseherd followed, playing a new, tender tune. Suddenly, the young man stopped, looked at Joan, and asked:

"Do you know who I am?"

"Of course not," Joan replied. "Who are you?"

"I am the prince, and I am on my way to my father's ball. Tonight, I am to choose a bride—so my father has decided."

Joan suddenly felt sad for some reason. She didn't reply to the prince, and they walked in silence, while the gooseherd limped behind them, still playing his flute.

"What a gentle and beautiful face she has," thought the prince. "I've never met a girl more lovely than her."

He didn't notice her tattered dress or bare feet but admired her face, her slender figure, and her light step.

"What is your name?" he finally asked.

"Joan."

"Listen, Joan," said the prince, "no girl has ever touched my heart the way you have! Be my bride and marry me!"

But Joan remained silent.

"Well, answer me—will you agree to be my bride and a princess?"

Joan smiled and said:

"Oh, no! You must be teasing me. How could I ever be a princess? You'd better hurry to the ball and choose a bride among the noble beauties!"

"I am completely serious," the prince continued. "Believe me! But if you don't want to be my bride, perhaps you'll come to the ball? Here's what: at exactly midnight, I'll be waiting for you with your friend the gooseherd, his flute, and these gray geese. Will you come?"

Joan looked at the prince and said:

"Perhaps! Or maybe I won't. I don't know!"

The prince said nothing more, mounted his horse, and rode off to the town.

Evening fell, and more and more carriages arrived at the castle where the king and queen were receiving their noble guests in the grand hall. People came from the most distant counties and domains—no one wanted to miss such an important event: the crown prince, the king's only son, was to choose his bride that evening.

Many proud ladies hid their secret hopes and fears behind light chatter and carefree smiles.

But the ball had long since begun, one dance following another, and still the prince seemed not to have made his choice.

Finally, midnight struck. At the last chime of the clock, there was a commotion at the end of the hall, and surprised exclamations rang out. The dancers parted, and before the king and queen appeared a strange procession: a barefoot girl in a ragged old dress led the way, followed by a lame gooseherd, and behind him, nine honking geese.

Such were the guests at the royal ball!

At first, the courtiers fell silent in astonishment, but soon they began to whisper and laugh loudly. However, they quickly fell silent again when they saw the prince step forward, take the barefoot girl's hand, and lead her to his parents, who sat on their thrones.

"Father," said the prince, "this is Joan! If she agrees, I choose her as my wife. What do you say?"

The king looked closely at Joan and said:

"Well, my son, your choice is not bad. If the girl is as kind and wise as she is beautiful, she will make a worthy princess!"

"The young lady is very beautiful, that's true," said the queen, "but what is this dress?"

"And why is the young lady silent?" asked the king. "What does she think?"

"Well, if you all agree," said Joan, "then so do I. I agree to be the prince's bride!"

And then, in the complete silence, the gentle sounds of a shepherd's flute filled the air. No one had ever heard such wondrous and beautiful music in their lives. The lame gooseherd played strange and marvelous melodies, and—oh, miracle!—Joan's tattered dress transformed before everyone's eyes into a luxurious white gown adorned with sparkling diamonds, and the nine geese turned into little pages dressed in blue. They lifted Joan's train and followed her as the prince led his bride to the other end of the hall to begin the dance. The sounds of the shepherd's flute faded into the lively music that burst forth from the gallery.

The prince and Joan, joyful and happy, began to dance.

And one more heart beat joyfully to the merry music—it was the heart of the old lord. For the first time, he saw his granddaughter Joan. In her rich white gown, she looked so much like her late mother that the old lord couldn't take his eyes off her. He no longer thought of her with anger and hatred but felt love filling his heart, and he rejoiced in it.

After the dances, Joan wanted to find her faithful friend the gooseherd, but he had disappeared. She sent servants to search the land, but no one ever heard of him again. True, the villagers told stories that when they returned home very late, they sometimes heard the gentle sounds of a flute in the fields and forests. But others insisted it was the fairies playing tricks on late travelers or simply their imaginations.

Whether Joan remembered the lame gooseherd after her wedding or not, we cannot say. But she did not forget her old nurse, and on the very first day after her wedding, she brought her to live with her. And so the old woman spent the rest of her days in the royal castle.

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Joan and the Lame Gooseherd

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