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Grimms' Fairy Tales
The
Riddle
There was once a King's son who was seized
with a desire to travel about the world, and took no one
with him but a faithful servant. One day he came to a great
forest, and when darkness overtook him he could find no
shelter, and knew not where to pass the night. Then he saw
a girl who was going towards a small house, and when he
came nearer, he saw that the maiden was young and beautiful.
He spoke to her, and said, "Dear child, can I and my
servant find shelter for the night in the little house?"
"Oh, yes," said the girl in a sad voice, "that
you certainly can, but I do not advise you to venture it.
Do not go in." "Why not?" asked the King's
son. The maiden sighed and said, "My step-mother practises
wicked arts; she is ill-disposed toward strangers."
Then he saw very well that he had come to the house of a
witch, but as it was dark, and he could not go farther,
and also was not afraid, he entered. The old woman was sitting
in an armchair by the fire, and looked at the stranger with
her red eyes. "Good evening," growled she, and
pretended to be quite friendly. "Take a seat and rest
yourselves." She blew up the fire on which she was
cooking something in a small pot. The daughter warned the
two to be prudent, to eat nothing, and drink nothing, for
the old woman brewed evil drinks. They slept quietly until
early morning. When they were making ready for their departure,
and the King's son was already seated on his horse, the
old woman said, "Stop a moment, I will first hand you
a parting draught." Whilst she fetched it, the King's
son rode away, and the servant who had to buckle his saddle
tight, was the only one present when the wicked witch came
with the drink. "Take that to your master," said
she. But at that instant the glass broke and the poison
spirted on the horse, and it was so strong that the animal
immediately fell down dead. The servant ran after his master
and told him what had happened, but would not leave his
saddle behind him, and ran back to fetch it. When, however,
he came to the dead horse a raven was already sitting on
it devouring it. "Who knows whether we shall find anything
better to-day?" said the servant; so he killed the
raven, and took it with him. And now they journeyed onwards
into the forest the whole day, but could not get out of
it. By nightfall they found an inn and entered it. The servant
gave the raven to the innkeeper to make ready for supper.
They had, however, stumbled on a den of murderers, and during
the darkness twelve of these came, intending to kill the
strangers and rob them. Before they set about this work,
they sat down to supper, and the innkeeper and the witch
sat down with them, and together they ate a dish of soup
in which was cut up the flesh of the raven. Hardly, however,
had they swallowed a couple of mouthfuls, before they all
fell down dead, for the raven had communicated to them the
poison from the horse-flesh. There was no no one else left
in the house but the innkeeper's daughter, who was honest,
and had taken no part in their godless deeds. She opened
all doors to the stranger and showed him the heaped-up treasures.
But the King's son said she might keep everything, he would
have none of it, and rode onwards with his servant.
After they had traveled about for a long time, they came
to a town in which was a beautiful but proud princess, who
had caused it to be proclaimed that whosoever should set
her a riddle which she could not guess, that man should
be her husband; but if she guessed it, his head must be
cut off. She had three days to guess it in, but was so clever
that she always found the answer to the riddle given her,
before the appointed time. Nine suitors had already perished
in this manner, when the King's son arrived, and blinded
by her great beauty, was willing to stake his life for it.
Then he went to her and laid his riddle before her. "What
is this?" said he, "One slew none, and yet slew
twelve." She did not know what that was, she thought
and thought, but she could not find out, she opened her
riddle-books, but it was not in them -- in short, her wisdom
was at an end. As she did not know how to help herself,
she ordered her maid to creep into the lord's sleeping-chamber,
and listen to his dreams, and thought that he would perhaps
speak in his sleep and discover the riddle. But the clever
servant had placed himself in the bed instead of his master,
and when the maid came there, he tore off from her the mantle
in which she had wrapped herself, and chased her out with
rods. The second night the King's daughter sent her maid-in-waiting,
who was to see if she could succeed better in listening,
but the servant took her mantle also away from her, and
hunted her out with rods. Now the master believed himself
safe for the third night, and lay down in his own bed. Then
came the princess herself, and she had put on a misty-grey
mantle, and she seated herself near him. And when she thought
that he was asleep and dreaming, she spoke to him, and hoped
that he would answer in his sleep, as many do, but he was
awake, and understood and heard everything quite well. Then
she asked, "One slew none, what is that?" He replied,
"A raven, which ate of a dead and poisoned horse, and
died of it." She inquired further, "And yet slew
twelve, what is that?" He answered, "That means
twelve murderers, who ate the raven and died of it."
When she knew the answer to the riddle she wanted to steal
away, but he held her mantle so fast that she was forced
to leave it behind her. Next morning, the King's daughter
announced that she had guessed the riddle, and sent for
the twelve judges and expounded it before them. But the
youth begged for a hearing, and said, "She stole into
my room in the night and questioned me, otherwise she could
not have discovered it." The judges said, "Bring
us a proof of this." Then were the three mantles brought
thither by the servant, and when the judges saw the misty-grey
one which the King's daughter usually wore, they said, "Let
the mantle be embroidered with gold and silver, and then
it will be your wedding-mantle.
From Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, Household Tales, trans. Margaret
Hunt (London: George Bell, 1884), 1:100-103. |
