I want to tell you a beautiful story of bygone days, which happened at the time when the sward still listened to the talk of the four-footed and the feathered creatures of the world.

Once upon a time there lived in the deep forest a lame old woman with her three beautiful daughters. The daughters bloomed like pretty flowers around the withered stem of the old woman, especially the youngest one.

In their lonely place of dwelling there was nobody to admire their beauty, but the sun by day, and the moon and the stars at night:

Glowing bright like eyes of youth

Shone the sun upon their garlands

Glittered on their coloured ribbons

Played on their girlish garments.

The old woman was sharp with her daughters, forcing them to work from morn till night. They had to sit behind their spinning-wheels turning golden flax into thread. Even on Thursday and Saturday nights were they not allowed to make things for their dowry chests, as was the custom of that country; and if they had not taken up their knitting secretly in the evening twilight or by moonlight, their chests would have been empty.

The spinning never ended. The thread had to be very fine and evenly spun. The old woman kept the thread in a locked room, which the daughters were never allowed to enter. They even did not know where the golden flax came from. Two or three times every summer the old woman went away for several days, returning always in the night and her daughters never knew where she had been or what she brought home with her. Before starting upon her journey she gave the maidens enough work to keep them busy while she was away.

The time had arrived for the old woman to go away again. She gave the spinners work for six days, repeating her usual instructions, "Girls, work carefully, so that you do not tear the golden thread or the glitter of the thread will fade and your happiness will come to an end."

Scarcely had the old woman limped out of the door when the girls began to laugh at her instructions. "The golden thread does not tear even when you pull it hard, let alone when you spin it," remarked the youngest sister. "And it is not possible for the glitter of the golden thread to vanish," added the others.

On the third day after the old woman's departure an unusual event occurred. The young prince of the house of Kalev was hunting in the forest. But it happened that he lost his way. He was so far from his companions that the barking of dogs and the blowing of horns did not reach his ears. In his long search for the right way he found at last the path which led to the lonely hut. The girls were frightened at first when the stranger appeared before them, but soon they lost their fear and were happy to see so fair a stranger as the gallant prince.

They had just finished their day's work and were sitting outside enjoying the evening coolness. They made friends with the young stranger and chatted familiarly with him. When at last the elder sisters went to bed, the younger one was still sitting on the threshold talking with their guest and the two did not close their eyes during the whole night. The moon and the stars were the only witnesses of the sweet words they exchanged and of the secret confessions of their hearts.

In the meantime the news of the prince's disappearance was brought to the city. The king was much alarmed. He immediately ordered a detachment of cavalry and a regiment of infantry to be sent out the next morning before dawn to search for his lost son. It took the searchers three days before they traced the prince. Time had passed quickly for the prince in the company of the maidens. Before parting, he secretly promised the youngest sister to return after a short time and take her with him as his bride even if he had to do it by force. The elder sisters did not know anything of this agreement, but the secret was soon out through a strange happening.

Great was the fright of the youngest daughter when after the prince had departed she found the golden thread on her spool torn and the lustre of the thread gone. The ends of the thread were tied together, but the lustre would not return in spite of all her rubbing, her sighs and her tears. As the old saying goes: misfortune jumps in through the door, steps in through the window, creeps in through a crack, wherever it finds an opening—and that is what happened here.

The old woman had returned in the night. On the next morning, when entering the room, she realized at once what had happened and there was no end to her anger. The apologies of the daughters did not help, she knew well what kind of visitor had whispered in the ear of her youngest daughter behind her back. The old woman began to utter terrible curses, threatening to break the neck of the young man and to throw his body to the wild beasts, if he ever dared to come back.

The youngest daughter, red as a boiled crawfish, could not find rest by day or sleep at night. The thought that the old woman might fulfill her evil intentions when the prince returned grieved her incessantly. Early in the morning, while the old woman and the sisters were yet having their early morning dreams, she stole out of the room into the dewy coolness of the morning. Fortunately, in her childhood, the old woman had taught her the language of the birds and now she could make use of it. On the nearest spruce tree sat a raven, preening his feathers. "Dear bird, wisest of all the birds, will you help me?"—"What aid do you need?" asked the raven. "Fly over the country to the king's palace. Get in touch with the prince, and tell him about my misfortune."

Then she told the raven the whole story, begging him to tell the prince never to return. The raven promised to do everything if only he could find anyone in the city who could understand his language.

Before evening the raven was back and cawed from the top of the spruce tree. The frightened girl hastened out to receive the message. The raven had had good luck: in the king's garden he had found the son of a wind-sorcerer who perfectly understood his language, and took the message to the young prince.

The prince's answer was that the raven must hurry back and tell the maiden that on the ninth night the rescuer would come to free the chicken from the claws of the old hawk. Then he had given the raven a piece of meat to strengthen his wings and sent him back. The maiden thanked the black bird for the news and kept the secret to herself, waiting in excitement for the approach of the fatal night.

On the evening of the ninth day, when her sisters and the old woman had retired, the maiden tiptoed out of the house and sat on the grass in the shadow of a tree to wait for the rescuer. Hope and fear filled her heart. The cock had crowed already the second time, but nothing was heard in the stillness of the night. Suddenly, between the second and third cockcrow a distant trampling of hoofs reached her ears. She arose, and directed by the sound, went to meet the comers, so that their approaching would not awaken the sleepers inside the hut. Soon she saw a detachment of soldiers with the prince riding in front. He had found the path easily by the secret signs he had made on the trees on his way home the last time. Seeing the girl he jumped from his horse, lifted her up into the saddle and they galloped away. There was just enough moonlight for them to see the path.

The dawn had untied the tongues of the birds and their twittering filled the air. If the maiden had listened to their warnings it would have been to her advantage. But the maiden listened only to the honeyed words of the prince, who begged her to abandon her useless fears and to believe in his protective power and that of his soldiers. The sun was already high in the sky when they reached the open country.

The old woman did not discover the missing daughter early in the morning. It wasn't before later that she saw her work undone and it began to dawn upon her that she had fled. At once she devised a malicious plan to pursue the fugitive. She brought nine different kinds of magic herbs from the garret, added some charmed salt to them and tied them up in a rag, wound some woollen yarn around the bundle, muttered curses over it and threw it to the wind, singing:

"Whirlwind, whirlwind, lend your wings

Mother Wind thy flapping skirts

Carry along this little ball

With the swiftness of a blizzard;

Help to overtake the maiden

And to punish both of them."

Before noon the prince and his men arrived on the bank of a wide river over which led a narrow bridge. They had to cross it one by one. The prince was just in the middle of the bridge, when the witch-bundle, carried by the wind, touched his horse. The horse snorted in fear, reared up and before anybody was able to help, the maiden slipped off and fell into the river. The prince was ready to jump in after her, but the soldiers detained him, as the river was bottomless and no power could save her.

Fright and grief made the prince insensible to everything. The soldiers carried him home against his will. For weeks he sat in deep mourning, refusing food and drink. The king summoned all the sorcerers and wise men of his kingdom from far and near, but nobody could explain the nature of the prince's illness. Then the son of a wind-sorcerer advised the king to send for the famous Finnish wizard.

Within a week the Finnish wizard arrived, carried by the wind. He said to the king, "Mighty king, this disease has come from the wind, a wicked witch-bundle has caused it. Neither magic words nor healing herbs will help, only time can cure him. Send him out in the open air so that the wind may scatter his sorrows." And little by little the prince recovered and confided everything to his parents.

A year had passed since the accident on the bridge when the prince, by chance, came to the fatal place. Bitter tears filled his eyes while recollecting the past. Suddenly he heard a sweet voice singing:

"Forced by Mother's evil spell

Water took thy lovely maiden

Waves took thy dearest one

Water King buried thy lover."

The prince looked all around trying to discover the singer, but he saw nobody. Only a water-lily was swaying on the water's surface. "Naturally, the flower could not sing, mysterious power must be hidden somewhere," thought the prince. He tied his horse to a tree-stump and listened attentively. Soon he heard the sweet voice singing the same little song again.

The prince decided to ride to the hut in the forest and ask the goldspinners if they could explain the strange singing. He mounted his horse and set out towards the solitary hut. He stopped near the hut, hoping that one of the goldspinners might come out. In the early morning when the eldest sister went to the spring to wash her face, she was encountered by the prince who told her about the sad event of last year and about the mysterious singing at the bridge. The prince was invited to enter the hut as the old woman was again away on her journey. It became clear to the sisters that the misfortune which happened was caused by the old woman's witch-ball and that their sister had not died, but by enchantment—had turned into a water-lily.

In the evening the eldest sister brought a handful of magic herbs from the garret, rubbed them into powder, mixed it with flour into a dough and baked a cake for the prince, which he had to eat before going to bed. At night the prince had a strange dream: he dreamed that he lived in the forest among the birds, and he understood their language. In the morning when he told about his dream to the eldest sister she explained, "At a lucky hour you have come to our hut; at a lucky hour you had your dream and your dream will come true. The cake I gave you was mixed with magic herbs, which will give you the power to understand what the clever birds are telling each other. The little feathered-folk have much wisdom unknown to man. Listen attentively to what their little beaks chatter. When your mourning-days are over do not forget us, poor maids, who forever have to sit here like prisoners, behind the spinning-wheels."

The prince bade farewell to the maidens, thanked them for their hospitality and counsel, and promised to release them upon his return.

Upon riding homewards the prince found the forest strangely animated with the voices of singing and chattering birds. At first he could not understand anything of their talk: it concerned the affairs of people unknown to him. Suddenly he discovered a magpie and a spotted thrush on the top of a pine tree, who seemed to be talking about him.

"People are really dull," said the thrush, "they cannot manage to do even the easiest things in the right way. There in the river floats the foster-daughter of the lame old woman, now turned into a water-lily, sadly complaining of her ill-luck to all passers-by, and nobody comes to rescue her. Only a few days ago her former bridegroom crossed the bridge and listened to the complaining song of the maiden, but he was no wiser than the others; and yet it is an easy thing to rescue her; the famous Finnish wizard would know what to do. He could easily release the maiden from the bonds of witchcraft."

The prince was pondering over what the birds had said, when he heard one swallow call to another, "Come, let us fly to Finland, the nesting places are better there."

The prince called up to the swallows, "Wait, take a message from me to the Finnish wizard. Give him my hearty greetings, and ask him if it is possible to restore a maiden changed into a water-lily to her human form." The swallows promised to deliver the message and flew off.

A week later, when the prince was sitting in the palace garden, thinking that the swallows must have forgotten to deliver his message, he noticed an eagle flying high overhead. Gradually the eagle came lower and descended on a linden tree not far from the prince.

"The old Finnish wizard sends his greetings and asks you to forgive him for the delay, but there was no bird coming this way sooner. To remove the spell from the maiden is a simple matter; the only thing you have to do is to go to the river, take off your clothes, smear your body with mud, so that no white spot is left upon you; then seize the tip of your nose with your fingers and call out: Man into crawfish! and at once you will find yourself turned into a crawfish. Descend deep into the river, crawl without fear under the roots of the lily, unwind them from the mud and the weeds so that all parts will be loosened. Cling by your claws to one of the roots, then the water will lift you up to the surface together with the flower. Let the waves carry you forward until a bushy mountain-ash will become visible. Not far from it stands a stone the size of a small hut. There you have to sigh: Lily into maiden, crawfish into man! and so it will happen." Finishing the message the eagle flew away.

More than a week had already passed but the prince was still undecided whether or not to follow the instructions. One day he heard a crow say, "The old wizard has never given wrong advice nor has the language of the birds ever deceived anyone. Go ahead and rescue the maiden!" This gave the prince new courage. He thought, "Nothing worse than death can happen to me, and death will be better than to be in mourning forever." When he came to the river the sad song again reached his ears:

"Forced by Mother's evil spell

Here I lie in quiet slumber

Here the youthful child will wither

Fallen into waves' embraces.

And the bed of waters cold

Guards the maiden's quiet rest."

The prince dismounted and tethered his horse so that it could not go far away. Then he took off his clothes and smeared himself all over with mud, so that no white spot was left upon him. Then he seized the tip of his nose with his fingers and called out: "Man into crawfish!" and jumped into the river. It took the crawfish seven days to free the entangled roots of the water-lily but finally the flower started floating. The crawfish grabbed hold of the roots and floated along with it. When the prince, in the shape of a crawfish, reached the mountain-ash, near which the big stone stood, he sighed, "Lily into maiden, crawfish into man!" In an instant two human heads were on the surface of the water—the prince's and the maiden's. The water carried them to the bank, but they were as naked as when they were born.

The maiden was ashamed of her nakedness and did not dare to come out of the water, but the prince, closing his eyes, advised her to hide behind the mountain-ash, while he would hasten to the bridge, where he had left his clothes and his horse. But neither the horse nor his clothes were in the place he had left them. He did not know that his life as a crawfish had lasted for several days, it had seemed to him only a few hours.

Suddenly he saw an elegant coach, drawn by six horses, coming in his direction. In the coach he found clothes for himself and for the maiden, also a man servant and a maid. He sent the maid with the clothes to assist the maiden. In an hour they both were dressed in magnificent bridal robes and the coach took them straight to the church door.

The king and the queen were sitting in the church, mourning the loss of their son, who they thought was drowned in the river, as his horse and clothes were found on the bank. Indescribable was the joy of the parents. The king himself led the pair to the altar where they were married with great ceremony. A splendid wedding feast followed, which lasted for six weeks.

In their happiness the prince and his wife did not forget the gold-spinners. From the talk of a magpie in the palace garden they learned that the old woman was not the mother of the girls, but a witch, who had stolen them when babies from a far-away country; and the magpie continued, "The old woman's sins are great and she does not deserve mercy; boiled poison-root would be the most suitable food for her, so that she could not harm anybody in the future."

One night the young wife dreamed that the old woman had left the hut and her two sisters were alone. She told the prince about her dream and he immediately led a detachment of his soldiers to the forest hut. The maidens hailed their rescuers with great joy. One of the soldiers was ordered to pick the poison-root, boil it and leave it on the table for the old woman. Early the next morning, taking the maidens with them, they started upon their homeward journey, and reached the city in the evening. Great was the joy of the sisters when they were reunited after their long separation.

The old woman came home on the same night. Quickly she ate the food she found on the table, crept into bed and fell into a sleep from which she never awoke again: the poison-root brought her wicked life to an end.

When after a week the prince sent a trustworthy officer to the hut, he found the old woman dead. Fifty cart-loads of golden thread were found in the locked room and it was divided among the three sisters. Then the hut was set on fire and it burned down to the very ground. When the red comb of the fire appeared above the roof pole, a big cat with shiny eyes ran down the wall. The soldiers caught the cat. A bird called from the top of a tree, "Put a clamp to the cat's tail, and she will disclose all secrets!"

"Do not torture me," begged the cat. "I am a human being like you, only turned into a cat by witchcraft. I was the housekeeper of a rich king far, far away. The old woman was the queen's chambermaid. In our greediness we secretly agreed to steal the three daughters of the king, and also his great treasure. The old woman turned into golden flax all the golden things we stole. The eldest child was then three years old, and the youngest but five months. Being afraid that I might become repentant and change my mind, she turned me into a cat."

By the order of the officer who thought that the cat deserved no better end than the old woman, she was thrown into the flames.

The two other goldspinners, like their youngest sister, later married kings' sons, and the golden thread they had spun in the solitary hut in the forest supplied them with rich dowries. But their birthplace, as well as their parents, always remained unknown to them.

Jason Ladock

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