by Maria Tatar
She put both girls into a basket and covered them with gold until they were completely hidden. Then she summoned the wizard and said: “Pick up the basket and start walking, but don’t you dare stop to rest along the way. I’ll be looking out my little window, keeping an eye on you.”
The wizard put the basket up on his shoulders and started walking with it. But it was so heavy that sweat began to pour down his forehead. He sat down to rest for a while, but within moments one of the girls cried out from the basket: “I’m looking out my little window, and I see that you’re resting. Get a move on.” Whenever he stopped, the voice called out, and he had to keep going until finally, gasping for breath and groaning, he managed to get the basket with the gold and with the two girls in it back to the parents’ house.
Meanwhile the bride was preparing the wedding celebration, to which she had invited all the wizard’s friends. She took a skull with grinning teeth, crowned it with jewels and a garland of flowers, carried it upstairs, and set it down at an attic window, facing to the outside. When everything was ready, she crawled into a barrel of honey, cut open a featherbed, and rolled around in the feathers until she looked like a strange bird that no one could have recognized. She left the house, and on her way she met some wedding guests, who asked:
“Oh, Fitcher’s feathered bird, where from, where from?”
“From feathered Fitze Fitcher’s house I’ve come.”
“And the young bride there, how does she fare?”
“She’s swept the house all the way through,
And from the attic window, she’s staring down at you.”
She then met the bridegroom, who was walking back home very slowly. He too asked:
“Oh, Fitcher’s feathered bird, where from, where from?”
“From feathered Fitze Fitcher’s house I’ve come.”
“And the young bride there, how does she fare?”
“She’s swept the house all the way through,
And from the attic window, she’s staring down at you.”
The bridegroom looked up and saw the decorated skull. He thought it was his bride, nodded, and waved to her. But when he got to the house with his guests, the brothers and relatives who had been sent to rescue the bride were already there. They locked the doors to the house so that no one could get out. Then they set fire to it, and the wizard and his crew were burned alive.
THE JUNIPER TREE
long time ago, as many as two thousand years ago, there lived a rich man with a wife who was both beautiful and good. They loved each other dearly, but they had no children, even though they longed for them. Day and night the wife prayed for a child, but still they had none.
In front of the house there was a garden, and in the garden there grew a juniper tree. Once, in the wintertime, the wife was peeling an apple under the tree, and while she was peeling it, she cut her finger. Blood dripped on the snow. “Ah,” said the woman, and she sighed deeply. “If only I had a child as red as blood and as white as snow!” After she had spoken those words, she was happy, for she had a feeling that something would come of it. And she went back into the house.
A month went by, and the snow melted. Two months passed, and everything had become green. Three months went by, and flowers were sprouting from the ground. Four months passed, and all the trees in the woods were growing tall, with their green branches intertwining. The woods echoed with the song of birds, and blossoms were dropping from the trees. And so the fifth month went by. And when the woman sat under the juniper tree, her heart leaped for joy because the tree was so fragrant. She fell to her knees and was beside herself with happiness. When the sixth month had passed, the fruit grew large and firm, and she became very quiet. In the seventh month, she picked the berries from the juniper tree and gorged herself on them until she became miserable and was ailing. After the eighth month went by, she called her husband and, in tears, said to him: “If I die, bury me under the juniper tree.” After that she felt better and was calm until the ninth month had passed. Then she bore a child as white as snow and as red as blood. When she saw the child, she felt so happy that she died of joy.
The woman’s husband buried her beneath the juniper tree, and he wept day after day. After a while he felt better, but he still cried from time to time. Eventually he stopped, and then he took a second wife.
The man’s second wife gave birth to a daughter. The child from his first marriage was a little boy, as red as blood and as white as snow. When the woman looked at her daughter, she felt nothing but love for her, but whenever she looked at the little boy, she felt sick at heart. It seemed that no matter what he did he was in the way, and the woman kept wondering how she could make sure that her daughter eventually inherited everything. The devil got hold of her so that she began to hate the little boy, and she slapped him around and pinched him here and cuffed him there. The poor child lived in terror, and when he came home from school he had no peace at all.
One day the woman went into the pantry. Her little daughter followed her and asked: “Mother, will you give me an apple?”
“All right, my dear,” said the woman, and she gave her a beautiful apple from a chest that had a big heavy lid with a sharp iron lock on it.
“Mother,” asked the little girl, “can brother have one too?”
The woman was irritated, but she said: “Yes, he can have one when he gets back from school.”
The woman looked out the window, and when she saw the boy walking home, it was as if the devil had taken hold of her, and she snatched the apple out of her daughter’s hand and said: “You can’t have one before your brother.” Then she tossed the apple into the chest and shut it.
The little boy walked in the door, and the devil got her to whisper sweetly to him and say: “My son, would you like an apple?” But she gave him a look filled with hate.
“Mother,” said the little boy. “What a scary look! Yes, give me an apple.”
When the little boy bent down, the devil prompted her and bam! She slammed the lid down so hard that the boy’s head flew off and fell into the chest with the apples. Then she was overcome with fear and thought: “How am I going to get out of this?” She went to her room and took a white kerchief from her dresser drawer. She put the boy’s head back on his neck and tied the scarf around it so that you couldn’t tell that anything was wrong. Then she sat him down on a chair in front of the door and put an apple in his hand.
Later on, Little Marlene came into the kitchen to see her mother, who was standing by the fire, madly stirring a pot of hot water. “Mother,” said Little Marlene, “Brother is sitting by the door and looks pale. He has an apple in his hand, and when I asked him to give me the apple, he wouldn’t answer. It was very scary.”
“Go back to him,” the mother said, “and if he doesn’t give you an answer, slap his face.”
Little Marlene went back to him and said: “Brother, give me the apple.”
Her brother wouldn’t answer. So Marlene gave him a slap, and his head went flying off. She was so terrified that she began to howl and weep. Then she ran to her mother and said: “Mother, I’ve knocked brother’s head right off!” And she was crying so hard that she couldn’t stop.
“Little Marlene,” said her mother, “what a dreadful thing you’ve done! But don’t breathe a word to a soul, for there’s nothing we can do. We’ll cook him up in a stew.”
The mother then took the little boy and chopped him up. She put the pieces into a pot and cooked them up into a stew. Little Marlene stood by the fire and wept so hard that the stew didn’t need any salt at all because of her tears.
When the father came home, he sat down at the table and said: “Where’s my son?”
The mother brought in a huge dish of stew, and Little Marlene was weeping so hard that she couldn’t stop.
“Where’s my son?” the father asked again.
“Oh,” said the mother, “he went off to the country to visit his mother’s great uncle. He is planning to stay there a while.”
“What’s he going to do there? He didn’t even say good-bye to me.”
“Well, he really wanted to go, and he asked if he could stay for six weeks. They’ll take good care of him.”
“Oh, that makes me so sad,” said the husband. “It’s not right. He should have said good-bye.”
Then he began eating and said: “Little Marlene, why are you crying? Your brother will be back soon.” And he said: “Oh, dear wife, this stew tastes so good! Give me some more.”
The more the father ate, the more he wanted. “Give me some more,” he said. “No one else can have any of it. Somehow I feel as if it’s all for me.”
The father kept eating, and he threw the bones under the table until he had finished everything. Meanwhile, Little Marlene went to her dresser and got her best silk kerchief. She picked up all the bones from beneath the table, tied them up in her silk kerchief, and carried them outside, where she began weeping bitter tears while she was putting the bones down in the green grass under the juniper tree. Once she had finished, she suddenly felt much better and stopped crying. The juniper tree began stirring. Its branches parted and came back together again as though it were clapping its hands for joy. A mist arose from the tree, and right in the middle of the mist a flame was burning, and from the flame a beautiful bird emerged and began singing gloriously. It soared up in the air and then vanished. The tree was just as it had always been before, but the kerchief with the bones was gone. Little Marlene felt so happy and lighthearted because it seemed as if her brother were still alive. She returned home feeling content and sat down at the table to eat.
Meanwhile, the bird flew away, perched on the roof of a goldsmith’s house, and began singing:
“My mother, she slew me,
My father, he ate me,
My sister, Marlene,
Gathered my bones,
Tied them in silk,
For the juniper tree.
Tweet, tweet, what a fine bird am I!”
A goldsmith was sitting in his shop, making a chain of gold. He heard a bird singing on his roof, and he found its song very beautiful. He got up, and when he crossed the threshold, he lost his slipper. Still, he kept right on going out into the middle of the street with only one sock and one slipper on. He was also wearing his apron, and in one hand he had the golden chain, in the other his tongs. The sun was shining brightly on the street. He stopped to look at the bird and said: “Bird, you sing so beautifully. Sing me that song again.”
“No,” said the bird. “I never sing a second time for nothing. If you give me that golden chain, I’ll sing for you again.”
“Here,” said the goldsmith. “Here’s the golden chain. Now sing that song again.”
The bird came swooping down. Grasping the golden chain in its right claw, it perched in front of the goldsmith and began singing:
“My mother, she slew me,
My father, he ate me,
My sister, Marlene,
Gathered my bones,
Tied them in silk,
For the juniper tree.
Tweet, tweet, what a fine bird am I!”
Then the bird flew off to a shoemaker’s house, perched on the roof and sang:
“My mother, she slew me,
My father, he ate me,
My sister, Marlene,
Gathered my bones,
Tied them in silk,
For the juniper tree.
Tweet, tweet, what a fine bird am I!”
When the shoemaker heard the song, he ran out the door in his shirtsleeves and looked up at the roof. He had to put his hand over his eyes to keep the sun from blinding him. “Bird,” he said, “you sing so beautifully.” Then he called into the house: “Wife, come out here for a moment. There’s a bird up there. See it? How beautifully it is singing!”
The shoemaker called his daughter and her children, his apprentices, the hired hand, and the maid. They all came running out into the street to look at the bird and to admire its beauty. It had red and green feathers, and around its neck was a band of pure gold, and the eyes in its head sparkled like stars.
“Bird,” said the shoemaker, “sing that song again.”
“No,” said the bird, “I never sing a second time for nothing. You have to give me something.”
“Wife,” said the man, “go up to the attic. On the top shelf you’ll find a pair of red shoes. Get them for me.”
His wife went and got the shoes.
“Here,” said the man. “Now sing that song again.”
The bird came swooping down. Taking the shoes in its left claw, it flew back up on the roof and sang:
“My mother, she slew me,
My father, he ate me,
My sister, Marlene,
Gathered my bones,
Tied them in silk,
For the juniper tree.
Tweet, tweet, what a fine bird am I!”
When the bird had finished the song, it flew away. It had the chain in its right claw and the shoes in its left, and it flew far away to a mill. The mill went “clickety-clack, clickety-clack, clickety-clack.” Inside the mill sat twenty of the miller’s men, hewing a stone, “hick-hack, hick-hack, hick-hack.” And the mill kept going “clickety-clack, clickety-clack, clickety-clack.” And so the bird went and perched on a linden tree outside the mill and sang:
“My mother, she slew me . . .”
And one of the men stopped working.
“My father, he ate me . . .”
And two more stopped working and listened.
“My sister, Marlene . . .”
Then four men stopped working.
“Gathered my bones,
Tied them in silk . . .”
Now only eight were still hewing.
“For the . . .”
Now only five.
“. . . juniper tree.”
Now only one.
“Tweet, tweet, what a fine bird am I!”
The last one stopped to listen to the final words. “Bird,” he said, “you sing so beautifully! Let me hear the whole thing too. Sing that song again.”
“I never sing the second time for nothing. If you give me the millstone, I’ll sing the song again.”
“If it belonged to me alone,” he said, “I would give it to you.”
“If the bird sings again,” the others said, “it can have the millstone.”
Then the bird swooped down, and the miller’s men, all twenty of them, set the beam to and raised up the stone. “Heave-ho-hup, heave-ho-hup, heave-ho-hup.” And the bird stuck its neck through the hole, put the stone on as if it were a collar, flew back to the tree, and sang:
“My mother, she slew me,
My father, he ate me,
My sister, Marlene,
Gathered my bones,
Tied them in silk,
For the juniper tree.
Tweet, tweet, what a fine bird am I!”
When the bird had finished its song, it spread its wings. In its right claw was the chain, in its left claw the shoes, and round its neck was the millstone. Then it flew away, far away to the house of its father.
The father, mother, and Little Marlene were sitting at the table in the parlor, and the father said: “How happy I am! My heart feels so light.”
“Not me,” said the mother. “I feel frightened, as if a big storm were on its way.”
Meanwhile, Little Marlene just sat there weeping. The bird flew up, and when it landed on the roof, the father said: “How happy I’m feeling. And outside the sun is shining so brightly! I feel as if I’m about to see an
old friend again.”
“I don’t,” said the woman. “I’m so scared that my teeth are chattering, and I feel as if there’s fire running through my veins.” She tore at her bodice to loosen it.
Little Marlene sat there weeping. She held her apron up to her eyes and cried so hard that it was completely soaked with tears. The bird swooped down to the juniper tree, perched on a branch, and sang:
“My mother, she slew me . . .”
The mother stopped up her ears and closed her eyes, for she didn’t want to see or hear anything, but the roaring in her ears was like the wildest possible storm, and her eyes burned and flashed like lightning.
“My father, he ate me . . .”
“Oh, Mother,” said the man, “there’s a beautiful bird out there, and it’s singing so gloriously. The sun is shining so warmly, and the air smells like cinnamon.”
“My sister, Marlene . . .”
Little Marlene put her head in her lap and just kept crying and crying. But the husband said: “I’m going outside. I’ve got to see this bird close up.”
“Oh, don’t go,” said the wife. “It feels as if the whole house is shaking and about to go up in flames!”
But the husband went out and looked at the bird.
“Gathered my bones,
Tied them in silk,
For the juniper tree.
Tweet, tweet, what a fine bird am I!”
After finishing its song, the bird dropped the golden chain, and it fell right around the man’s neck, hanging perfectly from it. He went inside and said: “Just look at that fine bird out there! It gave me this beautiful golden chain, almost as beautiful as the bird is.”
The woman was so terrified that she fell right down on the floor, and the cap she was wearing came off her head. And once again the bird sang:
“My mother, she slew me . . .”
“Oh, if only I were a thousand feet under the ground so that I wouldn’t have to listen to this!”
“My father, he ate me . . .”
Then the woman fell down again as if dead.