by Jane Yolen
The air resounded with the applauses of the assembly. The young Prince and Princess embraced the King, and next their brothers and sisters. The three weddings immediately took place, and the kingdoms were divided as the Princess had proposed.
SEDNA
Eskimo
Long ago, there were no seals or walruses for Eskimos to hunt. There were reindeer and birds, bears and wolves, but there were no animals in the sea. There was, at that time, an Eskimo girl called Sedna who lived with her father in an igloo by the seashore. Sedna was beautiful, and she was courted by men from her own village, and by others who came from faraway lands. But none of these men pleased her and she refused to marry.
One day, a handsome young hunter from a strange far-off country paddled his kayak across the shining sea toward the shores of Sedna’s home. He wore beautiful clothes and carried an ivory spear.
He paused at the shore’s edge, and called to Sedna, “Come with me! Come to the land of the birds, where there is never hunger and where my tent is made of the most beautiful skins. You will rest on soft bearskins, your lamp will always be filled with oil, and you will always have meat.”
Sedna at first refused. Again he told her of the home in which they would live, the rich furs and ivory necklaces that he would give her. Sedna could no longer resist. She left her father’s home and joined the young hunter.
When they were out at sea, the young man dropped his paddle into the water. Sedna stared with fright as he raised his hands toward the sky, and before her eyes, they were transformed into huge wings—the wings of a loon. He was no man at all, but a spirit bird, with the power to become a human being.
Sedna sat on the loon’s back and they flew toward his home. When they landed on an island in the sea, Sedna discovered that the loon had lied to her. Her new home was cold and windy, and she had to eat fish brought to her by the loon and by the other birds that shared their island.
Soon she was lonesome and afraid, and she cried sadly, “Oh Father, if you knew how sad I am, you would come to me and carry me away in your kayak. I am a stranger here. I am cold and miserable. Please come, and take me back.”
When a year had passed and the sea was calm, Sedna’s father set out to visit her in her far-off land. She greeted him joyfully and begged him to take her back. He lifted her into his boat, and raced across the sea toward home.
When the loon spirit returned, he found his wife gone. The other birds on the island told him that she had fled with her father. He immediately took the shape of a man, and followed in his kayak. When Sedna’s father saw him coming, he covered his daughter with the furs he kept in his boat.
Swiftly the loon spirit rushed alongside in his kayak.
“Let me see my wife,” he cried.
Sedna’s father refused.
“Sedna,” he called out, “come back with me! No man could love you as much as I do.”
But Sedna’s kayak flashed across the water. The loon-man stopped paddling. Sadly, slowly, he raised his hands toward the sky and once again they became wings. He flew over the kayak that carried his Sedna away from him. He hovered over the boat, crying the strange, sad call of the loon. Then he plunged down into the sea.
The moment the loon spirit disappeared, the sea waves began to swell up in fury. The sea gods were angry that Sedna had betrayed her husband. The kayak rose and fell as huge waves lashed against it. Sedna’s father was terrified, and to save himself he pushed Sedna overboard. Sedna rose to the surface and her fingers gripped the edge of the kayak. But her father, frenzied with fear that he would be killed by the vengeful sea spirits, pulled out a knife and stabbed her hands.
Then, it is said, an astonishing thing happened, perhaps because the loon spirit or the sea spirits had willed it: the blood that flowed from Sedna’s hands congealed in the water, taking different shapes, until suddenly two seals emerged from it. Sedna fell back into the sea, and coming back again, gripped the boat even more tightly. Again her father stabbed her hands and the blood flowed, and this time walruses emerged from the blood-red sea. In desperate fear for his life, he stabbed her hands a third time, and the blood flowed through the water, congealed, and the whales grew out of it.
At last the storm ended. Sedna sank to the bottom of the sea, and all the sea animals that were born from her blood followed her.
Sedna’s father, exhausted and bitter, at last arrived home. He entered his igloo and fell into a deep sleep. Outside, Sedna’s dog, who had been her friend since childhood, howled as the wind blew across the land.
That night, Sedna commanded the creatures of the sea that emerged from her blood to bring her father and her dog to her. The sea animals swam furiously in front of her father’s igloo. The tides ran higher and higher. They washed up the beach until they demolished the igloo, and they carried Sedna’s father and her dog down to the depths of the sea. There they joined Sedna, and all three have lived ever since in the land of the waters.
To this day, Eskimo hunters pray to Sedna, goddess of the seas, who commands all the sea animals. She is vengeful and bitter, and men beg her to release the animals that were born of her so that they might eat. By her whim, a man successfully harpoons seals and walruses or is swept away from land by the stormy seas. The spirits of the great medicine men swim down to her home and comb her hair because her hands still hurt. And if they comb her hair well, she releases a seal, a walrus, or a whale.
URASHIMA THE FISHERMAN
Japan
Young Urashima lived in Tango province, in the village of Tsutsugawa. One day in the fall of 477 (it was Emperor Yūryaku’s reign), he rowed out alone in the sea to fish. After catching nothing for three days and nights, he was surprised to find that he had taken a five-colored turtle. He got the turtle into the boat and lay down to sleep.
When the turtle changed into a dazzlingly lovely girl, the mystified Urashima asked her who she was.
“I saw you here, alone at sea,” she answered with a smile, “and I wanted so much to talk to you! I came on the clouds and the wind.”
“But where did you come from, then, on the clouds and wind?”
“I’m an Immortal and I live in the sky. Don’t doubt me! Oh, be kind and speak to me tenderly!”
When Urashima understood she was divine all his fear of her melted away.
“I’ll love you as long as the sky and earth last,” she promised him, “as long as there’s a sun and a moon! But tell me, will you have me?”
“Your wish is mine,” he answered. “How could I not love you?”
“Then lean on your oars, my darling, and take us to my Eternal Mountain!”
She told him to close his eyes. In no time they reached a large island with earth like jade. Watchtowers on it shone darkly, and palaces gleamed like jade. It was a wonder no eye had seen and no ear had ever heard tell of before.
They landed and strolled on hand in hand to a splendid mansion, where she asked him to wait, then opened the gate and went in. Seven young girls soon came out of the gate, telling each other as they passed him that he was Turtle’s husband; and eight girls who came after them told each other the same. That was how he learned her name.
He mentioned the girls when she came back out. She said the seven were the seven stars of the Pleiades, and the eight the cluster of Aldebaran. Then she led him inside.
Her father and mother greeted him warmly and invited him to sit down. They explained the difference between the human and the divine worlds, and they let him know how glad this rare meeting between the gods and a man had made them. He tasted a hundred fragrant delicacies and exchanged cups of wine with the girl’s brothers and sisters. Young girls with glowing faces flocked to the happy gathering, while the gods sang their songs sweetly and clearly and danced with fluid grace. The feast was a thousand times more beautiful than any ever enjoyed by mortals in their far-off land.
Urashima never noticed the sun going down, but as twilight came on the immortals all slipped away. He and the maiden, now alone, lay d
own in each other’s arms and made love. They were man and wife at last.
For three years he forgot his old life and lived in Paradise with the immortals. Then one day he felt a pang of longing for the village where he had been born and the parents he had left behind. After that he missed them more each day.
“Darling,” said his wife, “you haven’t looked yourself lately. Won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”
“They say the dying fox turns toward his lair and the lesser man longs to go home. I had never believed it, but now I know it’s true.”
“Do you want to go back?”
“Here I am in the land of the gods, far from all my family and friends. I shouldn’t feel this way, I know, but I can’t help being homesick for them. I want so much to go back and see my mother and father!”
His wife brushed away her tears. “We gave ourselves to each other forever!” she lamented. “We promised we’d be as true as gold or the rocks of the mountains! How could a little homesickness make you want to leave me?”
They went for a walk hand in hand, sadly talking it all over. Finally they embraced, and when they separated their parting was sealed.
Urashima’s parents-in-law were sad to see him go. His wife gave him a jeweled box. “Dearest,” she said, “if you don’t forget me and find you want to come back, then grip this box hard. But you mustn’t open it, ever.”
He got into his boat, and they told him to close his eyes. In no time he was at Tsutsugawa, his home. The place looked entirely different. He recognized nothing there at all.
“Where’s Urashima’s family—Urashima the fisherman?” he asked a villager.
“Who are you?” the villager answered. “Where are you from? Why are you looking for a man who lived long ago? Yes, I’ve heard old people mention someone named Urashima. He went out alone on the sea and never came back. That was three hundred years ago. What do you want with him now?”
Bewildered, Urashima roamed the village for ten days without finding any sign of family or old friends. At last he stroked the box his divine lady had given him and thought of her; then, forgetting his recent promise, he opened it. Before his eyes her fragrant form, borne by the clouds and the wind, floated up and vanished into the blue sky. He understood he had disobeyed her and would never see her again. All he could do was gaze after her, then pace weeping along the shore.
When he had dried his tears, he sang about her far, cloud-girdled realm. The clouds, he sang, would bring her the message of his love. Her sweet voice answered him, across the vastness of the sky, entreating him never to forget her. Then a last song burst from him as he struggled with his loss: “My love, when after a night of longing day dawns and I stand at my open door, I hear far off waves breaking on the shores of your Paradise!”
If only he hadn’t opened that jeweled box, people have said since, he could have been with her again. But the clouds hid her Paradise from him and left him nothing but his grief.
THE SPIRIT OF THE VAN
Wales
Among the mountains of Carmarthen, lies a beautiful and romantic piece of water, named The Van Pools. Tradition relates, that after midnight, on New Year’s Eve, there appears on this lake a being named the Spirit of the Van. She is dressed in a white robe, bound by a golden girdle; her hair is long and golden, her face is pale and melancholy; she sits in a golden boat, and manages a golden oar.
Many years ago there lived in the vicinity of this lake a young farmer, who having heard much of the beauty of this spirit, conceived a most ardent desire to behold her and be satisfied of the truth. On the last night of the year, he therefore went to the edge of the lake, which lay calm and bright beneath the rays of the full moon, and waited anxiously for the first hour of the New Year. It came, and then he beheld the object of his wishes gracefully guiding her golden gondola to and fro over the lake. The moon at length sank behind the mountains, the stars grew dim at the approach of dawn, and the fair spirit was on the point of vanishing, when, unable to restrain himself, he called aloud to her to stay and be his wife; but with a faint cry she faded from his view.
Night after night he now might be seen pacing the shores of the lake, but all in vain. His farm was neglected, his person wasted away, and gloom and melancholy were impressed on his features. At length he confided his secret to one of the mountain sages, whose counsel was to assail the fair spirit with gifts of cheese and bread! The counsel was followed; and on Midsummer Eve the enamored swain went down to the lake, and let fall into it a large cheese and a loaf of bread. But all was vain; no spirit rose. Still he fancied that the spot where he had last seen her shone with more than wonted brightness, and that a musical sound vibrated among the rocks. Encouraged by these signs, he night after night threw in loaves and cheese, but still no spirit came.
At length New Year’s Eve returned. He dressed himself in his best, took his largest cheese and seven of his whitest loaves, and repaired to the lake. At the turn of midnight, he dropped them slowly one by one into the water, and then remained in silent expectation. The moon was hid behind a cloud, but by the faint light she gave, he saw the magic skiff appear, and direct its course for where he stood. Its owner stepped ashore, and hearkened to the young man’s vows, and consented to become his wife. She brought with her as her dower flocks and herds, and other rural wealth. One charge she gave him, never to strike her, for the third time he should do so she would vanish.
They married, and were happy. After three or four years they were invited to a christening, and to the surprise of all present, in the midst of the ceremony, the spirit burst into tears. Her husband gave an angry glance, and asked her why she thus made a fool of herself. She replied, “The poor babe is entering in a world of sin and sorrow, and misery lies before it; why should I rejoice?” He gave her a push. She warned him that he had struck her once.
Again they were, after some time, invited to attend the funeral of that very child. The spirit now laughed, and danced, and sang. Her husband’s wrath was excited, and he asked her why she thus made a fool of herself. “The babe,” she said, “has left a world of sin and sorrow, and escaped the misery that was before it, and is gone to be good and happy for ever and ever. Why, then, should I weep?” He gave her a push from him, and again she warned him.
Still they lived happily as before. At length they were invited to a wedding where the bride was young and fair, the husband a withered old miser. In the midst of the festivity, the spirit burst into a copious flood of tears, and to her husband’s angry demand of why she thus made a fool of herself, she replied in the hearing of all, “Because summer and winter cannot agree. Youth is wedded to age for paltry gold. I see misery here, and tenfold misery hereafter, to be the lot of both. It is the Devil’s compact.” Forgetful of her warnings, the husband now thrust her from him with real anger. She looked at him tenderly and reproachfully, and said, “You have struck me for the third and last time. Farewell!”
So saying, she left the place. He rushed out after her, and just reached his home in time to see her speeding to the lake, followed by all her flocks and herds. He pursued her, but in vain. His eyes never more beheld her.
THE TOAD-BRIDEGROOM
Korea
Long ago there lived a poor fisherman in a certain village. One day he went fishing in the lake as usual, but found he could not catch as many fish as he was accustomed to. And on each of the following days he found his catch growing smaller and smaller. He tried new baits, and bought new hooks, but all to no avail. At last even the water of the lake began to disappear, until in the end it became too shallow for fishing.
One afternoon in the late summer the bottom of the lake was exposed to view, and a big toad came out from it. The fishermen immediately thought that it must have eaten up all the fish and angrily cursed the samzog or three families of the frog, its parents, brothers, wife and children, for it is popularly believed that the toad is a relative of the frog.
Then the toad spoke to him gently, rolling its eyes, “Do not be
angry, for one day I shall bring you good fortune. I wish to live in your house, so please let me go with you.” But the fisherman was annoyed that a toad should make such a request and hastened home without it.
That evening the toad came to his house. His wife, who had already heard about it from her husband, received it kindly, and made a bed for it in a corner of the kitchen. Then she brought it worms and scraps to eat. The couple had no children of their own, and decided to keep the toad as a pet. It grew to be as big as a boy, and they came to love it as if it were their son.
Nearby there lived a rich man who had three daughters. One day the toad told the fisherman and his wife that it would like to marry one of the three daughters. They were most alarmed at this unreasonable request and earnestly advised it to forget such an impossible ambition. “It is utterly absurd,” they said. “How can poor people like us propose marriage to such a great family? And you are not even a human being.”
So the toad replied, “I don’t care what the rank of the family is. The parents may object, but yet one of the daughters may be willing to accept me. Who knows? Please go and ask, and let me know what answer you receive.”
So the fisherman’s wife went and called on the mistress of the rich man’s house and told her what her toad-son had asked. The lady was greatly displeased and went and told her husband. He was furiously angry at such a preposterous suggestion and ordered his servant to beat the toad’s foster-mother. So the poor woman returned home and told the toad of her painful experience.
“I’m very sorry that you have been treated like that, Mother,” the toad said to her, “but don’t let it worry you too much. Just wait and see what will happen.” Then he went out and caught a hawk and brought it home. Late that night he tied a lighted lantern to its foot, and crept stealthily to the rich man’s house. He tied a long string to the hawk’s foot and then climbed a tall persimmon tree which stood by the house. Then he held the end of the string in his hand and released the hawk to fly over the house. As it flew into the air he solemnly declared in a loud voice, “The master of this house shall listen to my words, for I have been dispatched by the Heavenly King. Today you rejected a proposal of marriage, and now you shall be punished for your arrogance. I shall give you one day to reconsider your decision. I advise you to accept the toad’s proposal, for if you do not, you, your brothers, and your children shall be utterly destroyed.”