The White Thrush, the Lame Mule, and the Beauty with Golden Hair
Once upon a time, there lived a merchant in the city of Troyes. His business was thriving, and everything would have been fine, except he had no children. So, he decided to adopt an orphan boy. They named the boy François. The parents immediately grew fond of the child, and the following year, the merchant's wife gave birth to twins. Thus, the merchant became the father of three sons.Time flew by quickly, and before anyone noticed, the three sons had grown into young men, while the merchant, unnoticed as well, had grown old. He began to ponder who should inherit his business. After all, to succeed in trade, one needed wit, the ability to communicate with people, and, above all, to uphold honesty.
Which of the three sons would inherit his business?
The merchant decided to test them. It must be said, for reasons unknown, that he loved his adopted son François more—perhaps because he was brave, quick-witted, and sincere. Still, the merchant wanted to act justly, so he waited for an opportunity to test his sons.
He didn’t have to wait long. A traveler brought him an interesting piece of news: in a distant land, there lived a marvelous bird known as the White Thrush. Whoever heard its song would be instantly cured of all ailments. And what ailment is worse than old age? The merchant longed to overcome his old age and, at the same time, saw this as the perfect test for his sons.
He called his sons and told them about the White Thrush. The brothers didn’t hesitate and immediately set off on their journey. At first, all three traveled together, but at a fork in the road, the twins bid farewell to François and turned their horses in another direction, saying they had no business traveling with some adopted brother.
François had long noticed that his brothers didn’t care for him, so he didn’t insist on joining them and continued his journey alone. Wherever he went, he asked if anyone had seen or heard of the marvelous White Thrush. But no one had seen it or even heard of it.
Meanwhile, the twins traveled from town to town, not in search of the bird, but in pursuit of new amusements. Gradually, all the money their generous father had given them for the journey ran out. They sold their horses and had no means to return home. They were forced to wander the roads, begging for food.
François traveled far and wide, and one day he found himself in a dense forest. At the roots of a mighty oak, he spotted a clever trap, and in it was a gray wolf. The wolf struggled in the trap but couldn’t break free. Feeling pity, François released the wolf.
Oh, had François made a mistake in freeing the gray wolf? What if the wolf turned around and ate him? Who would then find the White Thrush for the kind merchant?
But no, it was not in vain! Never regret a good deed. As soon as the wolf was free, it wagged its tail and disappeared into the forest.
The next day, François encountered a red fox in the woods.
"Where are you headed, François?" the fox asked.
François was surprised that the fox knew his name but didn’t comment on it. Instead, he shared his concern:
"I’m traveling the world in search of the White Thrush. Whoever hears its song is instantly cured of all ailments—old age and all diseases. Have you, by any chance, heard of it?"
"Of course, of course!" said the fox. "I know all about it. The thrush lives in the Kingdom of the Three Green Hills. It’s ruled by a king who has never been sick in his life because every morning, this very White Thrush sings in his palace. But the path to the Kingdom of the Three Green Hills is long and dangerous."
"I’m not afraid," said François. "I’d go to the ends of the earth for the White Thrush."
"Then listen..."
And the fox told François how to reach the Kingdom of the Three Green Hills.
"When you get there," the fox said, "hire yourself as a worker for the king. He’ll take you on, I know. The White Thrush is kept in a cage that hangs in the great hall. If the thrush is in a silver cage, grab it and ride back as fast as you can. But if it’s in a golden cage, don’t touch it. Remember that!"
François did exactly as the fox said. He found the Kingdom of the Three Green Hills, hired himself as a worker for the king, and waited for a chance to sneak into the great hall where the White Thrush was kept. But, to his frustration, sometimes guards stood at the door all night, and other times the king held balls, and people danced in the hall until dawn.
Finally, one quiet night, when everyone in the palace was asleep, even the guards, François slipped unnoticed into the hall. The moonlight shone through the window, and François saw the White Thrush in its cage. It was in a silver cage—what luck! Next to it hung a golden cage, empty.
"Ah, what a pity the White Thrush is in a silver cage," sighed François. "It would look so much more beautiful and valuable in the golden one! I’ll move it to the golden cage!"
He completely forgot the fox’s warning and moved the White Thrush into the golden cage. But as soon as he latched the cage, the thrush suddenly awoke, flapped its wings, and began to sing loudly. The guards woke up and seized François. Chaos erupted as all the courtiers and even the king himself rushed in.
"Ah, you scoundrel!" shouted the king. "You wanted to steal my White Thrush? Execution is too kind a punishment for such audacity!"
- What are you saying, Your Majesty? - stammered the frightened François. - I just really wanted to admire how he looks in a golden cage.
- Has my White Thrush caught your fancy? - said the king. - What if I give him to you? But only if you bring me the lame mule that takes seven-league strides. Do we have a deal?
They shook on it. What else could poor François do? And so he set off once again to find the lame mule.
He would have searched for a long time, or perhaps never found it at all, if he hadn’t run into the red fox cub again. François wanted to hide from him, feeling deeply ashamed, but the fox cub called out to him first:
- Well, François? Off on the road again? You didn’t listen to my advice, and now you’ve only yourself to blame.
- Don’t remind me, - François agreed. - I don’t know what came over me. I so wanted to put the thrush in a golden cage that I forgot everything else. And now I have to bring the king the lame mule, or I’ll never see the White Thrush or my home again.
- Because you’ve confessed everything so honestly, I like you even more, - said the fox cub. - And I’ll try to help you one more time. But you must do exactly as I say. The lame mule lives in the Kingdom of the Seven Green Hills. The journey there is long and dangerous. When you arrive, ask the king for a job as a stable hand. There, you’ll see the lame mule that takes seven-league strides. Now, if it’s wearing a silver harness, don’t hesitate—mount it and ride back to the Kingdom of the Three Green Hills. But if it’s wearing a golden harness, leave it alone. Got it?
And so François set off on the long journey again. He reached the Kingdom of the Seven Green Hills and got hired as a stable hand at the palace. He fed the horses oats, groomed them, and cared for them, all the while keeping an eye on the lame mule, watching to see if it wore a silver or golden harness. But the mule stood there without any harness, resting. François grew weary with waiting. Then, one evening, he saw the mule being fitted with a silver harness. The moment had come!
François approached the mule, patted its neck. The mule glanced at him but didn’t move. And suddenly, something came over François: he imagined the lame mule in a golden harness. How beautiful that must look! And, as if by some curse, the golden harness was hanging right there in the stable, glimmering. François forgot everything, tore off the silver saddle, and was about to replace it with the golden one when the mule began to kick and bray loudly. Stable hands, courtiers, and even the king himself came running.
- Ah, you villain! - the king shouted at François. - You planned to steal my mule? Execution is too light a punishment for such audacity!
- Not at all, - François managed to reply. - I just wanted to admire it in a golden harness, that’s all.
- Indeed, my mule is splendid! In harness or without. What if I give it to you? But in return, you must bring me a beauty with golden hair.
- Where would I find her, Your Majesty?
- That’s your problem! Bring me the beauty, and the mule is yours.
And so poor François set off once more. It was his own fault. Why hadn’t he listened to the fox cub? If he had, he’d have the lame mule by now, could trade it for the White Thrush, and be on his way home with the thrush.
- Hey, François, why so glum? - he suddenly heard.
He turned and saw the familiar fox cub running toward him. François told him everything, not forgetting to scold himself. The fox cub praised him for his honesty but scolded him for not listening.
- I’ll help you one last time, - said the fox cub. - Now your luck is in your hands: make a mistake, and it’s gone—it will fly away like the White Thrush, run off seven leagues like the lame mule, and you’ll never catch it. - And the fox cub told François what he must do: - Ride to the blue sea. There, in the middle of the sea, stands a castle where the beauty with golden hair lives. She’s guarded by evil monsters. No hero can defeat them. But I’ll give you a magic wand—don’t lose it! When you reach the blue sea, listen carefully.
If the beauty sings a sad song, tap the wand three times, saying: "Part before me, sea abyss!" The waves will part, and you’ll walk on dry land to the castle.
Once there, don’t dawdle! But remember: the magic wand will only help you if you hear the beauty with golden hair singing, because she only sings when her guards are fast asleep. Understood?
How could he not understand? François grabbed the magic wand and rode off to the blue sea. Wait, did he thank the fox cub? Of course he did, but we don’t have time to dwell on that—we must hurry after François to the blue sea, where the beauty with golden hair languishes in captivity. Well, what do you think? Will François keep his promise this time? Will he listen to the red fox cub?
We’ll see!
François rode day and night to the blue sea, and then another day and night, and many more days and nights. Finally, he saw a rock in the middle of the sea, and on the rock stood a gloomy castle. He gripped the magic wand and...
Fortunately, before he could strike the ground with the wand, he suddenly heard a very sad song from afar. It was the beauty with golden hair, imprisoned in the castle in the middle of the sea. Hearing the song, François struck the ground three times with the magic wand, chanting:
- Part before me, sea abyss! Part before me, sea abyss! Part before me, sea abyss!
The blue sea parted before him, the high waves receded, and François galloped across the seabed on his horse toward the castle.
The beautiful maiden saw him and was overjoyed; she had not expected to escape to freedom again. She reached out her hands to François but could not utter a word, fearing she might awaken the terrible monsters. Instead of fur, the monsters had sharp spines on their backs, and from each mouth protruded crooked teeth like sabers. But François did not even glance at the monsters. He scooped up the golden-haired maiden, placed her on his horse, and galloped toward the shore.
The monsters heard the clatter of the horse's hooves, woke up instantly, and gave chase. But François and the maiden had already reached the shore. As soon as his horse stepped onto the land, the high waves closed behind them, the blue sea roared and raged, and forever swallowed the gloomy castle and all the monsters.
Well, François galloped back to the Kingdom of the Seven Green Hills. And the golden-haired maiden, of course, went with him. Everything had turned out so well this time! But oddly enough, the closer they got to their destination, the sadder François felt. Why do you think that was?
"I know why!" Suddenly, out of nowhere, the little red fox appeared on the road again. "Well done, François!" he said. "This time you acted wisely. And I know why you're sad. You don’t want to part with your maiden, do you?"
"True. How did you guess?" François was surprised.
"Well, guessing isn’t hard. But figuring out what to do next—so you can get the White Thrush, keep your mule, and not part with the maiden—that requires some thought."
And here’s what the little fox advised François:
"When you arrive in the Kingdom of the Seven Green Hills and exchange the golden-haired maiden for the lame mule, ask the king for permission to kiss the maiden goodbye. After all, it was you who saved her from the monsters and brought her to the royal castle. The king won’t refuse you. And when the princess approaches you, quickly lift her onto the lame mule and ride away without looking back. By the time the king realizes what’s happened, you’ll already be seven miles away."
François thanked the little fox for his kind advice.
"Thank you, little fox," he said. "You’re a true helper in love. I don’t know how to thank you."
"You’ve already thanked me, and you’ll find out how later."
François galloped with his beloved to the palace of the ruler of the Seven Green Hills. When the king saw the golden-haired maiden, he gasped—he had never seen such beauty in his life! The king gladly exchanged the lame mule for the golden-haired maiden and hurried to bid François farewell. But François said to him:
"Your Majesty, allow me to kiss the maiden one last time. After all, it was I who saved her from the terrible monsters and brought her to your palace."
The king merely smirked and did not object. François rode up to the maiden on the lame mule, leaned toward her as if to kiss her goodbye, and—hop!—lifted her into the saddle. Before the king could react, the mule had already galloped seven miles away. And so, the ruler of the Seven Green Hills was left fooled. Well, you snooze, you lose!
Meanwhile, our heroes raced toward the distant Kingdom of the Three Green Hills.
"Take your mule, Your Majesty!" said François to the king when they arrived. "And give me the White Thrush in the silver cage, as agreed."
But when the king saw the golden-haired maiden, he didn’t want to hear about anything else and insisted:
"I’ll give you the White Thrush, and you’ll give me the golden-haired maiden! If you don’t agree, leave! Ride your lame mule seven miles away."
So much for the king’s honest word!
But François did not argue. He ordered the cage with the White Thrush to be brought quickly. Once he had the coveted thrush, he mounted the lame mule and said:
"Your Majesty, allow me to kiss the maiden one last time. After all, it was I who saved her from the terrible monsters and brought her to your palace."
The king reluctantly agreed. François leaned toward the maiden as if to kiss her goodbye, and—hop!—he lifted her, placed her in front of him on the mule, and before the king could react, the lame mule had already galloped seven miles away.
François and the maiden rode through forests and fields, heading home, rejoicing in their happy fortune. But were they rejoicing too soon?
One day, they met two beggars on the road. François reined in his mule to talk to them and saw—it was his twin brothers. "Well, well, so this is how fate has treated them!" François marveled. His heart ached with sorrow, and he called out to them. They came closer and immediately recognized their foster brother.
"Is that you, François?" they exclaimed with joy. "The cage with the White Thrush and the golden-haired maiden! What a lucky fellow you are, brother!"
And François saw how ragged and dirty they were, and he didn’t ask them any questions: it was already clear that their father’s money hadn’t done them any good. He seated them with him on a lame mule, and they hurried back to their home. It never occurred to him that the twin brothers were consumed by bitter envy. Just think—some adopted boy had outdone them, and now he would appear before their father as a hero, while they would forever remain a laughingstock, with children taunting them by name. No, this couldn’t be!
And so, as they were passing by a deep well, the brothers complained that they were suffering from thirst and asked François to fetch a jug of water for them to drink. François untied the jug from the saddle and was about to jump down when the beauty whispered in his ear:
"Don’t get off the mule! Don’t leave me alone with them!"
"Why are you afraid? They’re my brothers!" François chuckled, jumped off the mule, and headed to the well with the jug.
But the brothers didn’t waste any time and followed him. When François leaned over the well, they pushed him, and François fell down. Luckily, he didn’t crash or drown, but he couldn’t climb out—the well was too deep.
The brothers returned without François, jumped on the mule, and galloped back to their father’s house.
Poor François spent the whole night in the well, and in the morning, who do you think peered down? Yes, of course, it was the red fox cub—without him, François would have been lost. And our tale would have come to a quick end if not for the clever fox cub, a wise advisor and generous helper.
"How was your night in the deep well?" he asked François. "Do you want to come up?"
Of course he did! François was overjoyed but couldn’t speak from excitement. The fox cub lowered his long red tail into the well, François grabbed the tip, and climbed out.
"How can I ever thank you?" he asked the fox cub.
"You already have!" said the fox cub. "Remember the gray wolf you freed from the trap? Well, François, that was my older brother. He sent me to help you. That’s why I’ve been helping you. But now you’ve learned all the lessons of life, and my help is no longer needed, so let’s say goodbye. You need to hurry home!"
What could François say? It was all just miracles! But François was already getting used to such wonders. He marveled only at the rare gratitude of the wolf. Now that was truly a miracle...
He said goodbye to the red fox cub and hurried home.
Meanwhile, at home, the father kept questioning the twins about what had happened to their older brother, where he had gone. But they just kept denying everything, saying they knew nothing, that their brother had long since gone his own way to seek his fortune.
Yes, that’s how the twin brothers answered their father. And then, like a bolt from the blue, François appeared at home. The merchant even shed tears of joy and then told him all the news:
"You know, son, your brothers have also returned home. Great fortune has come to them! But I don’t know how to take it. They brought back a White Thrush in a silver cage, but the thrush doesn’t sing—it just sits hunched in the corner. They also brought back the lame mule. We’ve fed it hay and oats, but it still refuses to run. It just stands in the stable all day, stomping its hooves and braying in a strange voice. And on that mule came a beauty with golden hair. Who she is and where she’s from, I don’t know, because she doesn’t speak, refuses to say a word, and wouldn’t eat. These are the wonderful gifts I’ve received from my twins."
"Don’t grieve, Father. I think I know how to fix this. First, take me to the stable."
As soon as François approached the lame mule and stroked its withers, the mule perked up, happily swishing its tail. François mounted it, whispered a secret word into its ear, and the mule galloped off, disappearing in an instant, leaving only a cloud of dust. Before the merchant could marvel at the miracle, the mule was already back.
"Well, lame but fast!" the merchant praised the mule.
"I’m a bit hungry from the journey," said François. "We galloped seven miles there and seven miles back in an instant. It would be nice to have dinner now."
When everyone sat down at the table, the merchant asked to invite the beauty with golden hair. They barely persuaded her to come out, but as soon as she saw François, she laughed merrily and started talking to him. The merchant was even more amazed. And when dinner was over, everyone went out to the garden, where the White Thrush sat hunched in its silver cage. François snapped his fingers in front of it, and the White Thrush perked up and began to sing loudly. The merchant suddenly felt young and happy.
Only one sorrow still troubled his heart: it seemed his twin sons had deceived him. He asked his adopted son François how it had all happened, but François didn’t want to shame his brothers and advised them to leave their father’s house and go wherever their eyes took them.
And the next day, the merchant’s house joyfully celebrated the wedding of François and the beauty with golden hair. I myself was at their wedding, heard the songs of the White Thrush, and since then, nothing has ailed me, and old age hasn’t touched me. That’s how I’ve lived to this day, which is why you’ve heard this story from me.
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