The Shepherd and the Dragon

Front matter

THE SHEPHERD AND THE DRAGON

COPYRIGHT, 1930 BY ELEANOR E. LEDBETTER First Published, October, 1930

THE SHEPHERD AND THE DRAGON

The Shepherd and the Dragon

THE SHEPHERD AND THE DRAGON

THE SHEPHERD AND THE DRAGON

NCE upon a time there was a shepherd called Baca; when he was tending his sheep it was his duty to live high in the mountains in the herdsman’s hut from which he managed everything. When he was herding the sheep it was his habit to whistle with his shepherd’s pipe, or to lie on the ground and look up towards the sky and towards the mountains or at the sheep and the green pasture.

One day in the fall, at the time when snakes go into the ground to sleep, the nice shepherd lay on the ground, his head resting on his elbow, looking before him down into the mountain. All of a sudden he saw an astonishing sight: a great multitude of snakes came from all directions to the rock which was before his eyes. When they came to the rock each picked up on his tongue a certain herb which grew there, with this herb he tapped on the rock, it opened and the snakes, one after another, vanished within. Baca got up from the ground, called his dog Dunaj to watch the sheep, then went himself to the rock thinking, “I must find out what the herb is and where the snakes go down.” The herb was there; he did not know its kind; but when he plucked it and knocked on the rock with it, the rock opened for him! He went in and saw that he was in a cave whose walls shone with gold and silver. In the center of the cave stood a golden table and on the table coiled in a ring lay a gigantic old serpent. He was asleep. Around the table lay nothing but serpents. All slept, nor did they even stir when the shepherd came in.

Baca liked the cave, as long as it took him to walk around several times, but then the time began to drag and he thought about his sheep and wanted to go back. He thought to himself, “I have seen what I wanted, I will go back.” It was easy to say “I will go” but how to do it? The rock had closed behind him when he entered the cave, and what he would have to do, what to say, to make the rock open, the shepherd did not know, and so he had to remain in the cave.

“Oh well, if I can’t get out, I will take a nap,” he said finally, and wrapping himself in his sheepskin coat, he lay down on the ground and slept. It did not seem to him that he had slept long when a sort of rustle and murmur disturbed him. He looked around and thought that he was sleeping in the hut; then he awakened a little more, and saw around him the gleaming walls and the golden table; on the table the old serpent, around the table a circle made up of a multitude of serpents. After a while they began to murmur, “Is it time?” The old serpent let them ask, then finally raising his head slowly said, “It is time!” When he had so said, he stretched himself from head to tail like a switch, got down from the table to the ground, and crawled to the entrance of the cave. The snakes all crawled after him.

The shepherd stretched himself deliberately, got up and followed after the serpents, thinking to himself, “When they go out, I will go also.” Easy to say “I will go also,” but how to do it? The old serpent came to the rock, the rock opened itself, and one after another, the snakes went out. When the last snake had gone out the shepherd wanted to go also, but the rock closed before his very nose, and the old serpent said to him in his hissing voice, “Oh, you, fellow, must stay there.”

“Oh, what can I do here? You have no farm to work and I cannot sleep forever. Let me go out. I have sheep at the hut and at home a mean wife who will curse me if I do not drive in on time,” he begged.

“Never shall you go out of here unless you swear a triple oath never to tell where you were nor how you got in with us,” hissed the snake.

What could Baca do? Gladly he bound himself with a triple oath that he would tell nothing, if only he might get outside. “If you are not true to your oath, evil will overtake you,” threatened the serpent as he was going out.

How changed it was outside! The shepherd’s legs began to shake when he saw how time had passed; that instead of fall, it was spring.

“Misery is mine,” he bemoaned himself. “I am a foolish fellow. What have I done? Actually, I have spent the whole winter in the rock. O my sheep! where have you gone! O my wife, what will you say!” So lamenting bitterly he walked toward the corral. At the corral he saw his wife, and, not ready for her reproaches, he hid himself in the shed. When he sat in the shed, he saw that a fine young gentleman stepped up to his wife from outside and he heard him ask her where her husband was.

The shepherdess burst into tears and told this man how one day in the fall Baca had gone into the forest with his sheep and had never returned. The dog Dunaj took care of the sheep, but as for the shepherd she knew nothing. “Perhaps the wolves tore him to pieces, or the forest women enticed him into the forest,” sobbed the woman.

“Oh, don’t cry, little wife,” called the shepherd then from the shed, “after all I am alive! The wolves did not tear me, nor did the forest women entice me into the magic forest. I have spent the winter in the shed.” But this did not help him any.

When the shepherdess heard his voice, she stopped crying and began to scold him cruelly. “I hope that a hundred thunder bolts will strike your soul, you sluggard, you knave! Aren’t you a great fellow? That is a shepherd! He trusts his sheep to the will of God, crawls into the shed and sleeps like a snake in the winter. Who ever heard of such a thing?”

Baca in his heart agreed with his wife, but tell the truth he could not; he must be silent or forsworn. The fine gentleman, however, told the wife to keep still, that her husband did not sleep in the shed, that he must have been somewhere else and that if the shepherd would tell him why he was so silent, he would give him much money. The shepherdess then was all the more angry because her husband had lied to her and she finally demanded to know where he was. No one knows what might have happened, but the fine gentleman promised her money if she kept silent and persuaded her to go home and to let him take care of the shepherd.

When the shepherdess had gone, the fine gentleman changed to his natural form and the shepherd saw before him the wizard of the mountains. He knew him at once because the wizard has in his forehead a third eye. The wizard is a man of great strength, he knows how to change himself into any shape he likes, and if one should try to resist him he would turn him instantly into something else, perhaps a sheep.

The shepherd was very much afraid of the wizard; he had for him even greater respect than for his wife.

The wizard asked him where he was and what he saw. Baca was dreadfully afraid of this question. What should he tell? He was afraid of the old serpent and a broken oath and he was afraid also of the three-eyed wizard. But when the wizard asked him for the second time, for the third, and then asked him again with an angry voice where he was and what he saw, when the wizard seemed to grow larger and larger before his very eyes, he forgot his oath. He told him where he was and what he saw in the rock and how he got in.

“That’s good,” said the wizard, “come with me, show me your rock and your herb.” Baca had to go.

When they came to the rock, the shepherd picked the herb, knocked on the rock and the rock opened.

The wizard did not want Baca to enter nor did he himself go farther; he drew out some kind of book and began to read from it. The shepherd turned pale with fright. Then all at once the earth began to tremble, from the rock there sounded a hissing and whistling, and out came a fearful dragon, into which the old snake had changed himself. His head was monstrous, from his mouth he breathed out fire, with his tail he lashed to the right and to the left and whenever he hit a tree, it was slashed off.

“Put this bridle on his neck,” said the wizard, giving Baca a set of reins, but without taking his eyes from his book. Baca took the reins but was afraid to come near the dragon. Then when the wizard spoke to him a second and a third time, he had to obey. And then woe to poor Baca! As he was aiming to throw the reins about his neck, the dragon turned towards him, and before Baca knew what was happening, he was seated on the dragon’s back, and the dragon was flying with him over the forest.

At once it was pitch dark, except for the fire which flashed from the eyes and mouth of the dragon and lighted their journey. The earth quaked, rocks fell down from the peaks. Angrily the dragon lashed his sides, blowing down the pine trees as he went along, snapping them off like twigs, and pouring water down upon the earth until it seemed to run down from the mountains, like the river Vah. It was a horror of horrors. Baca was half dead.

After a while the dragon became a little quieter; he lashed about him less violently, he stopped throwing down water, and flames ceased to flash from his eyes. Baca came to himself, and thought that the dragon was going down. But it was not enough; the dragon acted as if he wished to punish him still further. Little by little, he rose higher and higher above the mountains, ever higher, until the very highest peaks seemed to Baca like ant-hills; and ever higher mounted the dragon until poor Baca could see nothing but the sun, stars and clouds, and the dragon seemed to hang with him alone in the air.

“Oh God, what can I do! I am hanging in the air! If I jump down, it will kill me, and I cannot jump up into the heavens!” so Baca cried and began to weep bitterly. The dragon did nothing. “O dragon, O powerful lord dragon, have pity!” he begged the dragon after a while. “Go down farther. I swear to God that I will not anger you again as long as I live.”

Baca’s plea was enough to melt a stone but the dragon puffed and snorted and said nothing, nor did he move. Then from a distance came to the ears of Baca the voice of a lark. Baca rejoiced. Nearer and nearer to him came the lark; when he was close to him Baca said, “O little lark, bird of the dear God, I beg you, fly to the Father in Heaven and tell him my wretchedness. Tell him that I send him greetings and I call for the help of God.”

The lark flew to the Father in Heaven and delivered Baca’s message. The Father in Heaven had pity on Baca, wrote something in gold letters on a birch leaf, put the leaf in the lark’s beak, and told her to drop it on the dragon’s head. The lark flew through the air and flying over the dragon’s head, dropped on it the birch leaf with the gold writing. In a twinkling the dragon with Baca dropped to the earth.

When Baca came to his senses he saw that he was in his cottage at the clearing; he saw how the dog Dunaj guarded the sheep and on the willow he saw a little bell,

The Rose Bud

THE ROSE BUD

THE ROSE BUD

NCE upon a time there was a certain father and he had three daughters, beautiful as three roses; but the youngest was the most beautiful, the sweetest and the most industrious. One day the father was going to the city to market; before he left home he asked his daughters what each one wanted him to bring her when he returned. The two older girls asked for silks, jewels and ornaments, but the youngest asked for nothing until the father asked her specially, then she said, “I have nothing to ask for, dear father, except a single rose bud but let that be as beautiful as any in the world.”

“You shall have it,” said the father and embracing his loved daughters, he started on his journey. He kept well, he had money enough and he bought even more than he needed. When he had purchased everything, the dresses, the jewels and a variety of ornaments for his daughters, he went to look for the rose bud. But although he looked through every market, and peered into all the gardens, nowhere could he find even a trace of a rose. The season for roses was past, and no matter how much money he offered, there was none to be found. It vexed him very much that he could not satisfy the modest wish of the dearest of all his daughters, and sadly he started for home, asking everyone on the way for a rose bud, but the people only laughed at him. When he had gone a little way toward home he had to go through a forest. As he went, thinking on his unsuccessful errand, he came into a thick forest, and saw that he was not on the right track. But as he came out of a thicket he found himself in a little dale and right in front of him he saw a rose bush and on the bush one perfectly beautiful rose bud. He shouted with joy and plucked the bud from the bush. In that very instant the forest roared as if with a terrible peal of thunder, the ground opened and from the earth there rose up before his terrified eyes a monstrous beast.

“How did you dare to pluck that rose bud, my dearest flower, more beautiful than any other in the world?” cried the beast in such a terrible voice that the poor fellow’s knees knocked together with fright. Trembling, he began to explain for whom he had picked the bud and he offered the monster all his money, if only he might keep the flower.

“I ask nothing for the flower except that which shall first come to meet you when you return home,” said the enormous beast, his terrible look denying the kindness of his words. What could the unlucky man do? He promised what the beast demanded, in order to save his life.

“All right, then,” said the beast, “in three days you bring it to me here in this place; if you do not, evil will come upon you.” Then the beast disappeared and the man ran sadly home.

He hoped that nothing would come out from his home, that no one would see him and come to meet him. But alas, the youngest daughter saw him coming in the distance, recognized him, dropped everything and ran to meet him as he came. The cat and the dog would both have been welcome sights to the father, if only they might have reached him first, instead of his daughter, his youngest child. But so it was, and he could not make it otherwise!

“And now you are back, father! Have you brought me my rose bud?” the girl asked after she had kissed him.

“I have brought it, I have brought it, more beautiful than any other in the world, but oh, my child, it is dear!” answered the father, bursting into tears.

The girl was frightened and began to ask her father why then he bought it, but he could only shake his head. “Oh, my child, I would gladly have given all my riches for it, if only I could have kept you!” answered the father and then told her what had happened and how, and that she must after three days go with him into the forest to the monster.

Of course the daughter was greatly frightened as she heard her father’s story, but she was of a good and brave heart, so she said, “Do not grieve about it any more, father; if it must be so, it is God’s will and I will go; whatever is waiting for me I shall be able to endure.” And so comforting her father, she put the beautiful rose bud in her girdle and they went into the house.

On the morning of the third day, she said goodbye to her home, and started off into the forest, accompanied by her weeping father. Arrived at a certain spot in the forest, she said goodbye to him, and went on alone to the place which he had pointed out. The journey brought her directly to the little knoll where the rose bush stood; when she arrived there, she looked all about, but saw no one. Then she took the rose bud in her hand and walked boldly up to the rose bush and called out, “Here I am!”

In that moment the forest grew dark, the earth trembled, it opened and the girl fell almost headlong down into the earth. When she came to herself and began to look around, she saw before her a black marble castle with a beautiful garden and at her right side was standing the monstrous beast. She shivered when the beast addressed her though it was in a really very agreeable voice, “Do not be afraid of me, beautiful maiden, I will do you no harm. Walk through the garden, then go into the castle; you will find there food and a bed. But do not say a word, even if something meets you in the eye, and is angry with you; keep still and be patient; if you endure, you will be fortunate.” With these words the beast disappeared and the girl, full of wonder, thought for a while upon his words.

Then she walked through the garden and since she felt hungry she went into the castle. As without, so also within, the castle was all of black and so was all its furniture. A little table in one room was set for one person and some food stood on it, almost too good the girl thought as she tasted it. She ate, she went to the spring for a drink and when evening came, she went to bed.

But at midnight a fearful noise sounded through the whole castle, the doors opened with a crash and into the room where the girl slept ran a great crowd of horrible rough people and fell upon her. They pushed her and shook her, they tormented her in every way; but she remained silent. Then as suddenly as they had come, they departed. The girl slept until the morning and when she awoke she saw that one third of the castle had turned white.

When she went out into the garden, the beast immediately asked her how it was in the night. She told him everything as it happened and how the mob had teased her. But she was not at all afraid of the beast; he did not seem so frightful to her as he had at the first view. When she had told him everything he warned her in a kind voice to be patient and to say no word even if the second night should be worse than the first; then he disappeared again, leaving the girl alone.

Again she walked about the lovely garden until she felt hungry, then went into the castle to eat, to drink from the spring and to sleep on the couch. She had slept a little when, at midnight, an uproar broke out worse than the first night, and a crowd of all sorts of monsters burst into the room an fell upon the girl like grasshoppers in a meadow. They pinched her, they beat her, they pulled her hair, they did the worst things they could think of, but the girl remained to them like a fish, and did not stir at all from the pain. In the morning she went out again into the garden where the beast was waiting for her. He was for her but still he told her with kindness to be patient and to speak no word the third night, even if she should lose her life.

The girl had been sorry when the beast disappeared and she felt lonely without him; he no longer seemed ugly to her and sorry she was glad when he talked with her. When she looked at the castle she saw that another third had turned white. She walked about all day in the garden, she went into the castle to eat, she drank from the spring, and so little by little the day passed and night came. With terror she lay down on the bed and she could not sleep, but she was determined, come what might, that she would not say a word.

When midnight came, a wild mob rushed in upon her, wilder, more terrible than those before; rushing at the girl’s bed they began to torment her, to pinch her, to pull her off the bed, to pull her hair, to strike her. The girl was silent as a fish but when they began to cut her with knives she could not bear the pain, and cried “Help!” In that instant the castle shook, the mob disappeared and beside the girl stood a handsome young man, kissing her hand. When she had rested a little the handsome youth told her that he was the son of a prince, the lord of that castle and of all the country round, that he had been bewitched out of revenge many years before by a wicked old baba, and compelled to wear the form of a terrible beast until a pure maiden should free him by enduring patiently and suffering silently for him, an ugly beast.

When the young prince had told her all, he added “You, beautiful maiden, have freed me and for that you shall be my wife and mistress of my castle, if it is agreeable to you.”

In the morning when the maiden went into the garden, she saw the castle all glistening white and the servants full of life and animation, and she and the prince were married. After a few days the prince ordered his carriage to be brought and with a whole company of attendants they went to visit the father and sisters. The father was happy beyond words, when he saw his dear mourned-for child and knew that she was in good hands and as fortunate as any man could wish! So they lived happily ever after.

The Wise Goldsmith

THE WISE GOLDSMITH

THE WISE GOLDSMITH

ADOS was eighteen years old when his parents died. There seemed to be nothing left for him to do except to go into service. He thought to himself, “Since I must go into service, I will go to the great city and hire out there where there is always work to do.” So he took his things and went. Not far from the city he met a wise old woman. When he greeted her respectfully, she gave him a blessing and from that time he was as clever and intelligent as she was and everything that he took in hand turned out well.

Rados walked through fine streets and his eyes fell upon a large goldsmith’s shop in which a number of apprentices were sitting at work. He liked the looks of this very much and he thought to himself that he would not go into service, but that he would learn the goldsmith’s trade instead. Without hesitation he went into the place, wished the master good health, and asked him to take him for a pupil.

“All right, I will take you,” said the master, “but you are a little old for an apprentice; by the time you have learned you will be six and twenty. Will you be contented year after year?”

“Indeed, sir, if I had any money I would pay you for teaching me; but I will promise to give you satisfaction and for a little while it will not ruin you,” said Rados.

“All right, then,” said the master, showing him a place for his things and for him to sleep. As soon as Rados was settled, he started at once on the work assigned him. At first the other apprentices laughed at his awkwardness but soon they were still; for whatever Rados took in his hand turned out successfully and what others took two years to learn, that he learned in a week. At the end of two weeks he was making rings, earrings and bracelets so beautiful that it was a pleasure to look at them.

The master said to his wife, “I do not know what to think of Rados, whether he was already instructed, as my reason tells me, or was born under a lucky star.”

For four weeks he studied diligently and the master liked him very much. Once they went together for a walk about the city in which the king lived. There they saw a skull fastened above the gate. He asked the master what this meant and the master told him this tale:

“Our king has one daughter, a maiden as beautiful as can be seen anywhere far and wide. For years she has not spoken; whether this is by the act of God or by her own will no one can tell. Doctors and other learned men have been called but none have been able to trick her into speech. She reads, she rides, she walks, she does beautiful needlework, but she does everything silently. Three years ago there appeared a wise seeress who said that the princess Libena is under an enchantment and that it will continue until a young man comes who can get her to speak to him. So the king gave out that he would give his daughter in marriage to the man who could get her to speak, whether he was peasant or prince. Then many men came, took up the king’s time and annoyed the princess, without success. Finally he became quite angry and the princess also because she was always being disturbed and called out from her room when she did not want to come. So the king decreed that whoever came announcing that he wanted to cure the princess, should be given three days and if he had not then succeeded he should lose his head. The crowd disappeared but after some time there came one day a fine-looking young man. The king permitted him to undertake to cure the princess. For three days he knelt before Libena and begged her continually to speak to him just one word but she did not, so after three days he lost his head which you see hanging there. Since that time no one has come; and now it is almost five years since the princess has spoken.”

Rados marveled very much at this story and he was sorry for the beautiful Libena. Now he had been a year with his master who held him like the eyes in his head and who, when he talked with his wife, always said that Rados was such a fine fellow that he felt as though he were his own son.

One day a royal messenger came to the shop and ordered some jewels for the princess. They must be more beautiful than had ever been seen before and of the most precious stones. The master promised but when the messenger had gone he scratched his head and did not know how to manage nor what kind of work to turn out.

“What is the trouble, master, that you are so worried?” asked Rados.

The master told him.

“Do not worry, master. I will do the work for you and I am sure that the king will be satisfied with the result.”

“And do you think, Rados, that you can do a piece of work which I myself do not know how to do? How can I furnish so much gold and so many precious stones for you perhaps to spoil?”

“Give me something for a trial, and you will like it, then and afterwards.”

So the master gave him gold and precious stones and Rados went at once to work. How astonished the old goldsmith was when Rados brought him the finished ring. The like of it had never been seen in that shop. Joyfully the master then gave him gold and jewels such as he needed to make other corresponding pieces of jewelery. Rados took the greatest pains with everything and when it was ready he made a silver jewel case and then took all the finished work to his master.