Čudežna ptica

Besedilo

Čudežna ptica

Once upon a time, as never before, there lived a devout and kindly emperor. He had three sons. Besides the many good deeds he had done for the people of his empire, he had built a monastery whose fame was to spread far and wide. He adorned it with gold, precious stones, and everything the craftsmen of his country considered most costly and beautiful. Within the church and before its entrance stood a multitude of gilded marble pillars. The finest paintings, silver chandeliers overlaid with gold, sanctuary lamps of the purest silver and as large as pails, and the choicest books furnished that monastery. Yet the more the emperor rejoiced in its beauty, the more he grieved that he could not finish it, for the tower kept falling down. “How can it be,” said the emperor, “that I cannot complete this holy church? I have spent my whole fortune, and still it has not been consecrated.” So he proclaimed throughout the land that any craftsman who could raise the tower would receive rich gifts and noble rank. He also commanded prayers and vigils to be held in every church, that merciful God might take pity on him and send him a good builder. On the third night, the emperor dreamed that if someone brought the wondrous bird from the other realm and set its nest in the tower, the monastery could be completed. He told his sons of this dream, and each vied with the others to be the first to set out and offer his service to his father. Then the emperor said to them, “I see, my sons, that you all desire to do your duty toward God. But you cannot all go at once. Let my eldest son go now; if he cannot succeed, another shall go, and so on, each in turn, until God shows us His mercy.” The sons fell silent and obeyed, and the emperor’s eldest prepared for the journey. He travelled on and on, and after passing beyond his father’s borders, stopped for the night in a lovely grove. He made a fire and sat beside it while his food was cooking, when suddenly a fox appeared before him. The fox begged him to tie up his greyhound, give him a crust of bread and a glass of wine, and let him warm himself by the fire. Instead of granting his request, the emperor’s son let the greyhound loose, and it chased after the fox. Then the fox made a sign toward him and turned him to stone. When the emperor saw that his eldest son did not return, he yielded to the pleas of his middle son and gave him leave to go as well. This son made his preparations, took provisions for the road, and set out. At the place where his brother had been turned to stone, he met the same fate, for he too refused the fox’s pleas and tried instead to catch him and take his skin. The emperor grew troubled when, after so long a time, neither son returned, either with the wondrous bird or without it. Then his youngest son said, “Father, it has been a good while now since my elder brothers went away to bring back the wondrous bird, and they have not returned, whether successful or not. Give me money for my expenses and suitable clothes, so that I too may try my luck. If I succeed, you will rejoice, Father, to have your wish fulfilled; and if I do not, I shall have suffered no disgrace.” “Your elder brothers,” said the emperor, “have plainly been unable to do anything toward bringing back that wondrous bird. Perhaps they have even lost their lives, since they have been gone for

so long, and neither has returned. I am growing old now. If you too are lost, who will help me bear the burdens of the empire? And if I die, who will sit upon my throne, if not you, my son? Stay here, Father’s darling, and do not go.” “You know very well, Father, that I have never strayed so much as a hair’s breadth from your commands. If I now dare to persist in my request, it is only because I wish, if I can, to fulfil a desire that gives Your Majesty’s soul no rest, a desire you have striven for many years and at great expense to fulfil.” After much pleading and insistence, the emperor relented and gave him leave. The young man chose the horse he liked best from the imperial stables, took a greyhound for company, gathered ample provisions, and set out. Some time later, both the emperor’s elder sons arrived, bringing with them the wondrous bird and a slave girl whom they made a keeper of the hens. Everyone marvelled at the bird’s beauty. Its plumage held thousands upon thousands of colours, and its feathers shone like a mirror in the sun. The church tower no longer fell down, for the bird settled there with its nest. One thing, however, was noticed: the bird seemed mute, for it never uttered a sound. All who saw it pitied so beautiful and splendid a creature for having no voice. And the emperor, for all his joy in the church and its tower, grieved that the bird would not sing to him. The people began to forget the emperor’s youngest son, so great was their delight that the wondrous bird had been brought to them, the tower had ceased to crumble, and the church could at last be finished. Only the emperor mourned in his heart that his youngest son was not there to share his people’s happiness. Then one day the hen-girl came to him and said, “Glorious Emperor, may your countenance shine with joy! The whole city is marvelling at the song of the wondrous bird. Early this morning, as soon as a shepherd entered the church, the bird began to sing as though its throat would burst, and it was so happy that it scarcely seemed able to contain itself. This is the second time it has happened: whenever that shepherd enters the church, the bird sings without stopping, and whenever he leaves, it falls silent.” “Have that shepherd brought before me this very moment.” “Your Majesty, the shepherd seems to be a stranger, for no one knows him. Your Majesty’s sons, I have been told, have posted guards around—” “Silence!” said the emperor. “Do not speak of my sons. It is not for you to meddle in their affairs.” The emperor then posted several servants of his own to keep watch in secret. As soon as they saw the shepherd whose entrance into the church made the bird sing, they were to seize him and bring him before the emperor. Nor was he content with this alone: on the next holy day he went to church himself, to hear the bird’s marvellous song with his own ears and see the shepherd with his own eyes. Had he not been there, a fierce struggle would have broken out between his servants and the men posted by his sons, who were determined to lay hands on the shepherd. The emperor ordered that the young man be brought courteously to his palace, for something stirred in his heart at the sight of him, so young, gentle, and humble, yet with the bearing of a brave man. When he left the church, the emperor went straight to the palace, for his heart told him there must be something behind all this. As soon as he saw the shepherd, he said, “Tell me, young fellow, what part of the world do you come from? Have you parents, and how did you happen to come here?” “My story, illustrious Emperor, is a long one. I have parents, and brothers too. To tell you how I came here and where I come from would take some time. But if it is Your Majesty’s wish to hear it, I am ready to obey. Tomorrow, at first light, I shall come to Your Majesty for that purpose. It is late now.” “Very well, brave lad. I shall expect you tomorrow at daybreak.” Early the next morning the shepherd came and awaited the emperor’s command. As soon as the emperor heard that the shepherd in question had arrived, he summoned him. “Now tell me, young fellow, why does the wondrous bird sing whenever you set foot in the church, and fall silent when you leave?” “To learn that and other things, illustrious Emperor, you must hear my whole story.” “I am listening. Tell me all you wish.” Then the shepherd began: “I have a father and brothers. I left my father’s house to perform a deed that would gladden him, for he was sorrowful because he could not fulfil his wish. After travelling for several days, I reached a beautiful plain where several roads branched off. There I decided to spend the night. I made myself a good little fire and took out my provisions, and just as I was about to eat, I found a fox beside me. I do not know where he came from or which way he came, for I had not seen him. He seemed to have risen out of the earth. ‘Do me a kindness,’ he begged, ‘and let me warm myself at your fire, for look, I am shivering so hard that my teeth are chattering. Give me a piece of bread and a glass of wine as well, to ease the hunger and thirst that torment me. And so that I may eat in peace and warm myself without fear, tie up your greyhound.’ ‘Gladly,’ I told him. ‘Come and warm yourself. Here are my provisions and my flask; eat and drink as much as you please.’ Then I tied up the greyhound, and we sat together by the fire, talking. One thing led to another, and I told him where I was going. I even asked him whether he knew anyone who could tell me how to accomplish the task I had freely taken upon myself. ‘As for that,’ the fox replied, ‘rest easy. Tomorrow morning we shall set out together, and if I do not help you succeed, you need never call me by my name again.’ We sat by the fire and feasted like friends. Then the fox wished me good night and vanished like a phantom. I wondered how it was that I had not seen which way he went, and while I was puzzling over how he had come and gone without my noticing, I fell asleep. When he came at daybreak the next morning, he found me marvelling at some blocks of stone shaped like two men, two horses, and two greyhounds. As soon as I saw him, we made ready to leave. The fox turned three somersaults and became a handsome young man, a pleasure to behold. On the road he told me that the place where I had spent the night was his estate; that he was married and had children; and that he had been cursed to wear a fox’s body until a man took pity on him, welcomed him to his fire, and gave him a crust of bread and a glass of wine. I had been that man, and now he was freed from the curse. For that reason, he would go with me and would not leave me until I had succeeded. I was glad of this turn of events, and we travelled on, all through the long summer day until evening, when we came to a clearing and spent the night there. My travelling companion told me that the next day we must cross into the lands of some zmei, and that he believed I would find what I sought there. The following day we entered their domain, though not without some fear, and toward late afternoon we reached their palaces. The splendours I saw there are beyond telling. There were gardens filled with every kind of flower and tree; houses roofed with silver that gleamed like mirrors in the sun; walls adorned with carved figures and flowers, gilded mouldings, and fountains casting their waters high into the air. We were fortunate, for the zmei were not at home when we arrived. At the gateway we were met by a girl so very beautiful that she seemed made of sugar. She warned us not to enter the courtyard while the zmei were away, for it would go ill with us. Then she wept for joy at seeing people from the realm from which the zmei had carried her away. When we asked her about the thing we sought, she told us that it was in the keeping of other zmei, kinsmen of those whose land we had reached. ‘Go,’ she said, ‘and with God’s help I hope you will succeed. And on your way back, take me with you.’ After teaching us how to enter the zmei’s courtyard and what to do there, she made me swear by what I held dearest in the world—my father—that I would not leave her with the zmei but would take her away. Then we departed. In truth, I too had liked the girl from the moment I saw her. When we reached the borders of the other zmei’s lands, we stopped to rest. At daybreak we set out across their domain, and toward noon we reached their palaces, which were even more beautiful than the first. As soon as I dismounted, I went to the stable, while my companion turned back, for that was what the girl had instructed us to do. The horses were at their mangers. One of them turned its head and looked at me. I rubbed its eyes, pulled its ears, stroked it, and put the bridle on its head. Then I mounted, and from the saddle took the cage containing the wondrous bird, which stood in the porch.” “You took the wondrous bird?” cried the emperor. “Are you my son, whom everyone believes lost?” “Yes, Father.” And after kissing the emperor’s hand, he begged him to have the hen-girl brought before them. When she arrived, the shepherd said, “This is the girl I told you of.” “How can that be?” replied the emperor. “How did she come to be a hen-girl?” “She will tell you that herself, for I do not know. As I was saying,” he went on, “once I had seized the cage and taken to my heels on the fine horse I had taken from the zmei, all the other horses began to neigh and make such an uproar that it would have made your hair stand on end. But I kept my wits about me. The zmei came after me, and I fled and fled until I reached my companion, who was waiting for me at the border. Had he not been there, the zmei would have caught me, and who knows what would have become of me? But my companion stretched out his hand and roared at them, ‘Stop!’ They stood as though made of stone since the beginning of the world, unable to take another step. My companion embraced and kissed me, and he too marvelled at the bird’s beauty. The zmei tried every trick and blandishment to get the bird from me, promising me the moon and the sun. When they saw that they could not persuade me, they begged me at least to give them back the horse. At last I thought it best not to leave them utterly downcast, so I returned the horse and went away with my companion and the bird, while the zmei gazed longingly after it. When we reached the other zmei’s palaces, the girl was waiting for us at the gate. She cracked a whip three times, and the whole palace turned into an apple, which she picked up. Then I caught her round the waist, and away we went. But oh, when the zmei discovered it! They came after us with one jaw in the heavens and the other in the earth, roaring so terribly that the blood froze in our veins. I took courage, spurred my horse, and fled with my companion like the wind, while the zmei came on like thought. When my companion saw this, and that there was no hope of escaping unharmed, he stopped, made a threatening gesture toward them, and turned them to stone. Then we continued our journey until we came back to the plain from which we had set out, on the Fox’s estate. After resting and thanking the Lord that we had brought our undertaking to a happy end, I asked him what those blocks of stone meant. He said, ‘If you learn, you will regret it; if you do not learn, you will regret it just the same.’ ‘Tell me, I beg you,’ I said. ‘These are your brothers,’ he answered. ‘Instead of doing as you did and kindly granting my request, they set their greyhounds on me, thus prolonging the hateful curse that made me wear a fox’s hide. So I turned them to stone.’ ‘For my sake,’ I begged him, ‘and for the friendship we have formed, make them men again, as they were before.’ ‘Your friendship is very dear to me,’ he answered, ‘and so it shall be as you wish. But you will regret it.’ In an instant he made some movement with his hand that I could not follow, and suddenly

the stones shook themselves, and my brothers stood there, astonished to find themselves face to face with us. We bade my companion farewell and set out for home. All the while, as it turned out, my brothers were plotting against me. ‘Brother,’ they said after we had travelled for some time, ‘we are worn out from so much travelling, and the heat is great. Come to a little pond we know of, so that we may each drink some water and cool ourselves.’ I agreed and went with them. The eldest drank, and so did the middle brother. When it was my turn, I knelt at the edge of the pond to reach the water with my mouth, as they had done. At that very moment I felt a dreadful burning pain in both legs. When I tried to turn and see what had caused it, I could no longer stand: my brothers had cut off my legs. They went on their way without heeding my prayers and cries. For three days and three nights I lay about that pond. My poor horse, whenever it saw a dragon coming toward me, would take hold of the back of my clothes with its teeth and run wherever it could, kicking out so fiercely that no wild beast could come near us. At last, on the fourth day, I came upon a blind man who was feeling his way about. ‘Who is there?’ I asked. ‘A poor helpless man,’ he replied. After he told me how his brothers had put out his eyes out of envy, I told him how mine had cut off my legs. Then he said, ‘Do you know what? Let us become sworn brothers. I have legs, and you have eyes. I shall carry you on my back: I shall walk for you, and you shall see for me. I know that a great scorpion-monster lives somewhere nearby. Its blood can cure any sickness.’ I agreed, and we went on until we found the monster’s dwelling. It was not at home. The blind man set me behind the door and told me to strike it with my sword as soon as it came in, while he hid behind the stove. We did not wait long before the monster came home in a fury, for it had sensed that someone had entered its house. At the sight of it, my heart shrank to the size of a flea. But when it came through the door, I waited until it was within reach, then struck with all my strength and cut off all three of its heads at a single blow. I smeared myself at once with its warm blood, and as soon as I set my legs in place, they joined to my body as though they had been there since the beginning of the world. I anointed the blind man too, and his sight returned as it had been before. After thanking God, we each went our own way. I did not wish to come straight home, but thought it better to hire myself out as a shepherd and leave it to God to bring things about so that the guilty would be revealed. I was not mistaken in my faith, for behold, His power is great and His judgment just.” “Now you tell me,” the emperor said to the hen-girl, “how you came to be a slave and keeper of the hens.” “After cutting off their youngest brother’s legs, Your Majesty’s elder sons took possession, one of me and the other of the wondrous bird. I wept as though my heart would break at being parted from Your Majesty’s youngest son, whom I loved to look upon, for I had seen that he was a true son of our people. They tried to force me to love one of them, promising that he would marry me as soon as we reached the imperial court. After resisting all the violence they both sought to do me, I chose rather to be a slave and keeper of the hens at Your Majesty’s court than to be taken elsewhere. For I knew that God would not let a man perish who had carried righteousness in his heart. And now I thank God that He has shown me how a good deed never dies.” “Can you prove to me,” asked the emperor, “that you are that girl and no other?” “This apple,” she said, taking it from her bosom, “can convince anyone that I am she. Your elder sons knew nothing of it, or they would have taken it from me, and I should never have seen it again.” Then she went outside and cracked a little whip three times over the apple, and there rose a palace the like of which could not be found in all the empire. The emperor too was filled with wonder, and wished to celebrate his youngest son’s return. But the young man said, “Father, before we give thanks to God that I have returned safe and sound, let all three of us brothers go before Him to be judged.” The emperor could find nothing to say against this. The brothers were brought before him; they fell to their knees and begged their youngest brother’s forgiveness. He said to them, “If God forgives you, may you have my forgiveness too.” Having no choice, they went before the church and set three large earthen jars at equal distances from one another. Each stood with his feet in a jar and cast a stone straight upward with a sling. The elder brothers’ stones fell back and struck each of them on the head with such force that they dropped dead. But the youngest prince’s stone fell in front of him. A crowd had gathered to witness this divine judgment. Then the emperor celebrated his son’s wedding to the hen-girl, stepped down from his throne, and set his son upon it in his place. And if he is still alive, he reigns to this very day. I too was present at those events, which I now recount to all who will listen.