The Raven King

Once upon a time, there was a man as green as grass, with only one eye in the middle of his forehead. This green man lived in a small, old house on the edge of the Ramier Forest with his three daughters: the eldest was as beautiful as the day, the second was even more beautiful, and the youngest, who was only ten years old, was more beautiful than both of them combined.

One winter evening, the green man sat by an open window. Night fell, and a fog rose from the river. Suddenly, the air was filled with the sound of mighty wings, and a bird as large as an ox, black as coal, landed on the windowsill.

"Caw! Caw! Caw! I am the King of Ravens."

"King of Ravens, what do you want from me?"

"Caw! Caw! Caw! Green man, I wish to take one of your daughters as my wife."

"King of Ravens, wait here for me."

And the green man went to his three daughters.

"Listen, my daughters. The King of Ravens has come. He wishes to take one of you as his wife."

"Father," said the eldest, "it has been nearly a year since I was betrothed to the son of the King of Spain, who came to Lectoure on St. Martin's Day to buy mules at the fair. And yesterday, my fiancé sent word through a pilgrim that he will soon come to take me to his kingdom. You see, Father, I cannot become the wife of the King of Ravens."

"Father," said the second daughter, "I have been betrothed for a year to the son of the King of the Sea Islands. And yesterday, my beloved sent word with a sailor from Bordeaux that he will soon come to take me to his home. You see, Father, I cannot become the wife of the King of Ravens."

Then the green man looked at his youngest daughter. But she was so young that he felt sorry for her, and he thought:

"May I be cursed forever, like those who die without repentance, if I give this child to the King of Ravens as his wife."

And without asking his youngest daughter, the green man returned to the King of Ravens, who was still sitting on the windowsill.

"King of Ravens, none of my daughters wish to marry you."

The King of Ravens became furious. With a powerful strike of his beak, he pecked out the green man's only eye, which was right in the middle of his forehead. Then he flew away into the fog.

The green man screamed as if possessed by a demon. His three daughters came running at his cries.

"Father, what happened to you? Who took your eye?"

"The King of Ravens pecked it out because you all refused to marry him."

"Father," said the youngest daughter, "I do not wish to argue with you, but I never refused to marry the King of Ravens."

"Very well. Take me to bed, and let no one enter my room until I call for you."

The youngest daughter did as her father commanded. The next day, by evening, the green man called for his youngest daughter and said to her:

"Take me to the room where I was sitting yesterday when the King of Ravens pecked out my eye. Open the window and leave me alone."

The youngest daughter did as her father asked. The green man sat by the window. Night was falling, and the fog rose from the river. Suddenly, the air was filled with the sound of mighty wings. A bird as large as an ox, black as coal, landed on the windowsill.

"Caw! Caw! Caw! I am the King of Ravens."

"King of Ravens, what do you want?"

"Caw! Caw! Caw! Green man, I wish to take one of your daughters as my wife."

"King of Ravens, you shall have my youngest daughter."

Then the King of Ravens returned the green man's eye and cawed:

"Caw! Caw! Caw! Tell my bride to be ready at dawn tomorrow, dressed in white and wearing a bridal wreath."

At dawn, the sky turned black with ravens that had gathered overnight. In front of the green man's house, they set up an altar for the wedding ceremony. At the foot of the altar stood the King of Ravens, wrapped in a large veil as white as snow. When everything was ready and the wedding candles were lit, a priest in full vestments appeared out of nowhere, accompanied by an altar boy, to perform the ceremony. After the wedding, the priest and the altar boy disappeared as mysteriously as they had appeared. And the King of Ravens remained hidden under his veil, white as snow.

"Caw! Caw! Caw! Take my wife to her father."

The newlywed was taken to her father's house. Then the King of Ravens emerged from under his veil, white as snow.

"Caw! Caw! Caw! Green man, let your daughter stay with you until noon. At noon, the ravens will carry her to my kingdom at my command."

And he flew north.

At noon, the raven's wife stood on the threshold of her father's house.

"Farewell, my father! Farewell, my sisters! I am leaving my homeland and our home. I will be taken to a foreign land, and I will never return, never!"

The ravens lifted their queen and carried her on their wings through the air to the kingdom of cold, the kingdom of ice, where there are no trees or grass. By sunset, they had flown three thousand miles. The queen was set down on the ground in front of the main gates of the castle.
— Thank you, crows. I will not forget your loyal service. Now, have your dinner and go to sleep. It’s time for you to rest.

The crows flew away, and the queen entered the castle. It was seven times larger than the Church of Saint Gervais in Lectoure. Candles burned everywhere, fires blazed in the fireplaces, as hot as the furnaces used to bake bricks. But not a single soul was to be seen.

The queen wandered through the castle for a long time and finally came to a grand hall where a table was set with all kinds of food and wine. Only one place setting was prepared. The queen sat down. But she had no desire to eat or drink, for she could not stop thinking of her family and longing for home.

An hour later, the queen went to bed, drew the gold-embroidered canopy, and, without falling asleep or extinguishing the candles, began to wait.

As soon as midnight struck, the sound of mighty wings was heard. The king of the crows had returned home to spend the night. He stopped outside the door of the room where the queen lay.

— Kra! Kra! Kra! Wife, put out the light. The queen blew out the candles, and the king entered in the darkness.

— Kra! Kra! Kra! Listen, wife, and remember, for we do not waste words here. Once, I was a king over men. Now I am the king of crows: an evil sorcerer turned me and all my people into birds. But it has been foretold that our trial will come to an end, and you can help bring it about. I hope you will fulfill your duty. Every night, like tonight, I will fly here and sleep beside you. But you are only ten years old. You will not become my true wife for another seven years. Until then, do not try to see me. If you disobey, you will bring great misfortune upon yourself, upon me, and upon my people.

— King, I will obey your will.

And so, in the darkness, the queen heard the king of the crows remove his wings. Having done so, he approached the bed and lay down. The queen grew frightened. She reached out her hand and felt the cold of the naked sword her husband had placed between them.

The next morning, before dawn, the king of the crows rose in the dark, took the naked sword from the bed, donned his feathers and wings once more, and flew away without saying where.

From that day on, this happened every morning and every evening. Though the queen feared her crow-husband, she grew to love him, for she saw that he was mighty and brave.

Yet the poor girl grew weary of such a life. She was lonely—there was no one to speak with! And so, to amuse herself a little, she began to leave the castle early in the morning, taking with her a basket full of food. She would wander the plains, among the snow and ice, until nightfall. And she never encountered a single living soul.

One morning, while walking, the queen ventured far from the castle and saw a tall mountain not covered in snow.

And so the queen set out. She climbed for seven hours until she reached a humble hut by a stream.

By the stream, a washerwoman was scrubbing clothes, wrinkled like old leather and ancient as a roadside stone.

As she wrung out the laundry, black as soot, the washerwoman sang:

Fairy, fairy,
Your washing
Still has no end.
The long-awaited maiden-wife
Has still not come.

— Hello, washerwoman, said the queen. I will help you wash the laundry; it is black as soot.

— Thank you, my child.

No sooner had the queen dipped the laundry into the water than it became as white as milk. Then the old washerwoman sang:

Fairy, fairy,
The washing is done!
The maiden-wife has come.

Then she said to the queen:

— I have been waiting for you for a long time. Now my trials are over, and I owe it to you. But your suffering, poor girl, is not yet at an end! Your husband gave you good advice. Advice alone leads to nothing. What is destined will come to pass. Now go home and do not return here until the day comes when you are in great need of help.

The queen returned to the castle. Her life continued as before, day after day. Exactly seven years minus one day had passed since the king of the crows had married her before the house of the green man at the edge of the Ramières Forest. And so the queen thought:

"The time my husband set is nearly over. A day sooner or later—what does it matter? Tonight, I will see what my husband truly looks like."

When evening came, the queen lit a candle in the bedroom and hid it so skillfully that the room remained as dark as an oven. Then she lay down in bed and waited. As soon as midnight struck, the sound of wings filled the air. The king of the crows had returned home to spend the night. The queen heard him remove his wings. After that, as always, he lay down in bed, placing the naked sword between himself and his wife, and fell asleep.

Then the queen rose, took the candle from its hiding place, and by its light looked upon the sleeping figure. Before her lay not a crow, but a man, as beautiful as the day.

— My God, how handsome my husband is!

She approached the bed with the candle in hand to get a better look, and a drop of melted wax fell from the candle onto the sleeper. The king of the crows awoke.

— Wife! he cried. You have brought great misfortune upon me, upon yourself, and upon my people. Tomorrow, our trial was to end. I would have become your true husband, in the form you see me now... But now we must part! The evil sorcerer who holds me in his power will do with me as he pleases. What is done cannot be undone; tears will not mend our sorrow. I forgive you for the harm you have caused.

Leave this castle, for soon something will happen here that you must not see. Go, and may God’s mercy be with you, wherever you go.

The queen left, weeping. And the villain who held the king in his power bound him with an iron chain weighing forty poods and carried him through the clouds to the summit of a high cliff. This cliff stood on an island in the sea. Here, the sorcerer drove the end of the chain into the rock and sealed it with lead and sulfur, so skillfully that even the finest blacksmith could not have done better. Then he whistled—and at once, two wolves, as large as oxen, came running at his call: one black as soot, the other white as snow. The white wolf guarded the king by day and slept by night. The black wolf guarded the king by night and slept by day.

— Wolves, guard the king of the crows vigilantly!

The villain left, and the king of the crows remained alone with the wolves, chained to the summit of a high cliff on an island in the sea.
Meanwhile, the queen, having left the palace, walked and walked, weeping as though she wanted to cry her eyes out. Sobbing, she reached the summit of a high, snowless mountain, where by a stream stood the humble hut of an old washerwoman.

"Poor dear," said the old woman, "sorrow has come, as I foretold. What is destined cannot be avoided. But once you did me a kindness, and I shall repay good with good. Put on these iron shoes, and in them go in search of your husband. He is held captive by a sorcerer, atop a high cliff on an island in the sea. Here is a bag for you, in which bread will never run out, no matter how much you eat. Here is a hollowed-out gourd, which will always hold wine, no matter how much you drink from it. Here is a golden knife, which you will need for protection and to cut the blue grass—the grass that sings night and day, the grass that shatters iron. When your iron shoes burst, the hour of the Raven King's liberation will come."

"Thank you, washerwoman!"

And the queen went on her way.

After three days, she came to a land where there is neither night nor moon, where the sun always shines. Here she wandered for a full year. When she was hungry or thirsty, there was always bread in the bag and wine in the gourd. When she wanted to sleep, she lay on the ground and dozed. At the end of the year, she found the grass, blue from tip to root, blue like blooming flax.

The queen immediately drew her golden knife.

"Queen," said the blue grass, "do not cut me with your golden knife. I am blue grass, but I am not the grass that sings night and day, nor the grass that shatters iron."

The queen put away the golden knife and continued on.

Three days later, she came to a land where there is no day, where the moon always shines. Here she wandered for a full year. When she was hungry or thirsty, there was always bread in the bag and wine in the gourd. When she wanted to sleep, she lay on the ground and dozed. At the end of the year, she found the blue grass, blue from tip to root, blue like blooming flax.

The blue grass sang:

"I am blue grass, and I sing night and day. I am blue grass, and I sing night and day."

The queen immediately drew her golden knife.

"Queen," said the blue grass, "do not cut me with your golden knife. I am blue grass, and I sing night and day. But I am not the grass that shatters iron."

And the queen again put away the golden knife and trudged on.

Three days later, she came to a land where neither the sun nor the moon shines, and where eternal black night reigns. Here she wandered for a full year. When she was hungry or thirsty, she always found bread in the bag and wine in the gourd. When she wanted to sleep, she lay on the ground and dozed. At the end of the year, she heard a song in the darkness:

"I am blue grass, the one that sings night and day, the one that shatters iron. I am blue grass, the one that sings night and day, the one that shatters iron."

The queen swiftly drew her golden knife and moved through the darkness toward the source of the song. Suddenly, her iron shoes burst: she had stepped on the blue grass, the very one that sings night and day, the grass that shatters iron.

With her golden knife, the queen cut the grass, and it continued to sing:

"I am blue grass, the grass that sings night and day, the grass that shatters iron."

The queen sheathed the knife.

She walked on through the darkness of night, barefoot among thorny brambles. She walked for a long, long time. Finally, the night ended, and the sun rose.

The queen found herself on the shore of a great sea, and very close to her, a boat was rocking.

The queen stepped into the boat and set out into the open sea. For seven days and seven nights, she saw nothing but sky and water. On the morning of the eighth day, she reached an island and saw the Raven King, chained to the summit of a high cliff.

Seeing the queen, a great white wolf lunged at her with jaws wide open.

The queen immediately drew her golden knife and waved the bundle of grass, which never ceased to sing:

"I am blue grass, the one that sings night and day, the one that shatters iron. I am blue grass, the one that sings night and day, the one that shatters iron."

To this song, the white wolf lay down and fell into a deep sleep.

Then the queen stabbed the great white wolf with her golden knife. After that, she touched the forty-pood chain that bound the Raven King with the singing grass. The chain shattered.

And in that very moment, the grass withered and fell silent. The Raven King stood up, straight and proud as Caesar.

"Caw! Caw! Caw! Thank you, my wife!" Then he cried out to the four winds:

"Caw! Caw! Caw!"

And from all four corners of the world, flocks of ravens came flying to him. As they approached the king, they immediately resumed their former human forms. When all had gathered, the king said:

"My loyal people, our suffering has ended. Look yonder, into the distance. There comes the king, my faithful friend, with seven thousand ships. In a month, we shall all be in our homeland."

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The Raven King

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