King Thrushbeard

Once upon a time, there was a king who had a daughter. She was extraordinarily beautiful, but also so proud and arrogant that no suitor seemed good enough for her. She rejected one after another, and even mocked each of them.

One day, the king ordered a grand feast to be held and invited suitors from near and far who wished to court her. He arranged them all in a row, according to their rank and title: kings stood at the front, followed by dukes, princes, counts, barons, and finally, noblemen.

The princess was led through the rows, but in each suitor, she found some flaw. One was too fat. "This one looks like a wine barrel!" she said. Another was too tall. "He's lanky, too thin, and doesn't walk with any grace!" she remarked. A third was too short. "What good is he, so small and stout?" The fourth was too pale: "This one looks like death." The fifth was too red-faced: "This one is like a turkey!" The sixth was too young: "He's too green, like a damp tree that won't catch fire."

And so she found fault with each one, but she especially mocked a kind king who was taller than the others and whose chin was slightly crooked.

"Wow," she said, laughing, "this one's chin looks like a blackbird's beak!"

From that day on, he was nicknamed King Thrushbeard.

When the old king saw that his daughter only knew how to mock people and had rejected all the suitors, he became furious and swore that she would have to marry the first beggar who knocked on his door.

A few days later, a musician came and began singing under the window to earn some alms. The king heard him and said:

"Let him come up."

The musician entered in his dirty, tattered clothes and began singing before the king and his daughter. When he finished, he asked for alms.

The king said:

"I enjoyed your singing so much that I will give you my daughter as your wife."

The princess was terrified, but the king said:

"I swore to marry you off to the first beggar who came along, and I must keep my oath."

No amount of pleading helped. A priest was called, and she was immediately married to the musician. When it was done, the king said:

"Now, as the wife of a beggar, it is not fitting for you to stay in my castle. You may go wherever you wish with your husband."

The beggar led her by the hand out of the castle, and she had to walk with him. They came to a dense forest, and she asked:

"Whose woods and meadows are these?"

"These all belong to King Thrushbeard. If you hadn't rejected him, they would now be yours."

"Oh, how I regret not being able to take back King Thrushbeard!" They walked through the fields, and she asked again:

"Whose fields and river are these?"

"These all belong to King Thrushbeard! If you hadn't rejected him, they would now be yours."

"Oh, how I regret not being able to take back King Thrushbeard!" Then they passed through a large city, and she asked again:

"Whose beautiful city is this?"

"It has belonged to King Thrushbeard for a long time. If you hadn't rejected him, it would now be yours."

"Oh, how I regret not being able to take back King Thrushbeard!"

"I don't like it at all," said the musician, "that you keep wishing for someone else as your husband. Am I not dear to you?"

Finally, they came to a small hut, and she said:

"Good heavens, what a miserable little house! Who owns such a poor place?"

And the musician replied:

"This house is mine and yours. We will live here together."

She had to stoop to enter the low door.

"Where are the servants?" asked the princess.

"What servants?" replied the beggar. "You must do everything yourself if you want anything done. Come on, light the fire and heat some water to cook me dinner. I'm very tired."

But the princess had no idea how to light a fire or cook, so the beggar had to do it himself. Somehow, they managed. They ate a meager meal and went to bed.

At dawn, he roused her from bed, and she had to do the housework. They lived like this for several days, neither well nor poorly, and soon they ran out of food. Then the husband said:

"Wife, this won't do. We're eating but not earning anything. Start weaving baskets."

He went out, cut some willow branches, brought them home, and she began weaving, but the tough branches hurt her delicate hands.

"I see this won't work for you," said the husband. "Try spinning instead—maybe you can manage that."

She sat down and tried to spin, but the coarse threads cut into her soft fingers, and they began to bleed.

"See," said the husband, "you're no good at any work. It's going to be hard for me with you. I'll try selling pots and clay dishes. You'll have to go to the market and sell them."

"Oh," she thought, "what if people from our kingdom come to the market and see me sitting there selling pots? They'll laugh at me!"

But what could she do? She had to obey, or they would starve.

The first time, things went well—people bought her wares because she was beautiful, and they paid what she asked. Some even gave her money and left the pots. So they lived on that.

The husband bought more clay pots. She sat at a corner of the market with the pots arranged around her and began selling. But suddenly, a drunken hussar came galloping by, crashed into the pots, and left nothing but shards. She began to cry, not knowing what to do.

"Oh, what will happen to me now?" she exclaimed. "What will my husband say?"

She ran home and told him of her misfortune.

"Who sits at the corner of the market with clay pots?" said the husband. "Stop crying. I see you're no good for decent work. I was at the king's castle earlier and asked if they needed a scullery maid. They promised to take you on. You'll be fed there."

So the princess became a scullery maid. She had to help the cook and do the dirtiest work. She tied two little bowls to her bag and brought home scraps from the leftovers—that's what they lived on.

It happened that the eldest prince was to be married, and the poor woman went up to the castle and stood by the door of the hall to watch. The candles were lit, and the guests entered, each more beautiful than the last, and everything was full of splendor and magnificence. She thought bitterly of her cruel fate and cursed her pride and arrogance, which had brought her so low and plunged her into such poverty. She smelled the delicious food being carried in and out of the hall by the servants, and sometimes they threw her some scraps, which she put in her bowls to take home.

Suddenly, the prince entered, dressed in velvet and silk, with golden chains around his neck. Seeing the beautiful woman by the door, he grabbed her hand and wanted to dance with her. But she was frightened and tried to refuse—she recognized him as King Thrushbeard, who had proposed to her and whom she had rejected with mockery. But no matter how she resisted, he dragged her into the hall. Suddenly, the string holding her bag broke, and the bowls fell to the floor, spilling the soup.

When the guests saw this, they all laughed and teased her. She was so ashamed that she wished the ground would swallow her. She rushed to the door and tried to escape, but someone caught her on the stairs and brought her back. She looked at him, and it was King Thrushbeard. He gently said to her:

"Don't be afraid. I am both the musician you lived with in the poor hut and King Thrushbeard. I pretended to be a musician out of love for you. And the hussar who broke your pots—that was also me. I did all this to humble your pride and punish you for your arrogance when you mocked me."

She wept bitterly and said:

"I was so unjust that I am not worthy to be your wife."

But he said:

"Calm yourself. The hard days are over, and now we will celebrate our wedding."

The royal servants came and dressed her in splendid clothes. Her father arrived with the entire court, and they wished her happiness in her marriage to King Thrushbeard. And true joy began at last.

And I wish that you and I could have been there too.

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King Thrushbeard

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