Once, long ago, there lived a great royal family whose only daughter was of unsurpassed beauty. Alas, she seemed so haughty and vain, yet in truth, Princess Alena wished only to find true love. All would-be suitors were ridiculed in hopes they would not want her. Thus, the King ordered a great feast, inviting every suitable man of noble birth. He bade his daughter, “Choose, my dear, for there are no others in the entire land.”
Twas with heavy heart she entered the Great Hall to greet them.
One by one, the Princess insulted them. The first was fat- she called him “old washtub”. Another was so tall. “Long and lean as a bean,” she said. A third was too puny – “Stout and short, not fit for court.” A fourth was pale, probably with dread. “Death warmed over,” she taunted.
Then came a particularly splendid king who had but a single fault. His beard made his face look too pointy. “Look ye,” she giggled, “his beard is a like a thrush’s beak.”
From then on, he was known as King Thrushbeard.
Her father grew most angry when she mocked that good king. One could say it was the drop did make the pot flow over. He announced for all to hear, “I vow that the first beggar who doth ask a boon of me shall have the princess as his wife!”
Well, beggars were very rare in that realm but after a few days, a traveling ballad singer (a rather dirty one at that) did appear. After the last note was sung, the man asked for a small reward.
“Your song has pleased me well,” the King said. “I give you my daughter to wed.” The Queen stared at him aghast! The Princess was horrified. The entire court gasped in disbelief.
The King bellowed, “A scared oath I took and so it shall be so!” There was no remedy, for a King’s honor has always been a serious matter.
The Princess and the beggar were married forthwith.
As a beggar’s wife, Alena could no longer live in the castle nor have any of its comforts. The beggar led Alena away with only a servant’s dress to wear.
After walking very far, they entered a vast forest.
“Who’s forest is this,” she asked. The beggar said, “King Thrushbeard’s.”
Alena thought, “I was so afraid to marry one I did not love that I mocked such a good king. Ah, if I could but make amends.
They walked on to a meadow. She asked, “Who’s fine meadow is this?”
He replied, “King Thrushbeard.”
Alena sighed.
After a time, they came upon a great town with a huge marketplace. “Who’s town is this?” she asked.
“Leave off these questions,” said the beggar. “My lot in life is now yours.” They entered a tiny hut that was most assuredly his. “Make a fire and cook some food,” he ordered. She knew naught of cooking and was faint with hunger herself. So he made a meal of gruel as she watched, grumbling all the while. Later that night, a tiny cot served as her bed while he slept on the floor.
For days, they spoke little.
“Wife,” he said, “we have to earn our keep so you must weave baskets.” He cut willows and showed her how to weave, but the reeds cut her tender fingers.
Spinning was no better.
He shouted, “Since you can’t do any real work, I’d say I got the worst of this bargain!”
Alena began to weep for the first time. Suddenly she looked up and the glimpse of affection she saw in his eyes did greatly surprise her. Turning away quickly, he said, “Perhaps you would do well in the marketplace.”
The beggar secured pots and such for his wife to sell. The first day went very well, for people were eager to buy goods from the lovely girl. The second went even better for word spread of her kindness and fair dealing. But on the third day, a drunken horseman rode into the midst of her wares, smashing all.
“Oh dear! How shall I tell my husband of this?”
Nonetheless, she ran back to the little hut. She found him standing over the cooking fire, rubbing his face, hands sooty. Fearing he was in a mood most foul, she told him of the misfortune straightaway, before she lost her mettle.
Lifting his hand, he almost touched her cheek. With almost a smile as well, he said, “Worry naught, My Lady, the worst is nigh over. The castle’s cook needs help. Verily, we will not starve.”
And so, bewildered yet relieved, she became a kitchen maid in King Thrushbeard’s castle. The work was hard but the food she took home kept them well fed.
As the days passed, Alena noticed a wondrous change in her husband. A kind word here, a smile there. He began to escort her to the castle and back. Once evening, a wildflower awaited on her cot. A pity he was always so dreadfully dirty; she suspected he’d be quite handsome scrubbed clean.
“Why,” she realized, “I’ve fallen in love with him!”
It came to pass that Kind Thrushbeard announced the day he would wed. The castle whirled in joyous preparation. On the appointed day, royalty from all the land had gathered at the castle.
While preparing delicate dishes for the feast, Alena was summoned to the king’s chamber. She thought, “He knows who I am and wants to ridicule me. I deserve it, truly. Perchance I will yet be able to apologize.”
When she was led in to see the king, he stood with his back to her, dressed in the richest silk and velvet.
“I have done you a great injustice, Princess,” he said, turning. His face was that of her husband’s if it was but clean!
“Yes, I am the beggar with whom you have lived in that wretched hut. The horseman, too. For love of you, I did it all thinking to soften your haughtiness. But as the days went by, I saw true goodness in you and never an unkind word to me though I did deserve it oft times.”
Alena said, “Good King, I am sorry for the unjust insult to your person. I can see you took the mockery in earnest and shaved off your beard. My Lord, I have never seen a more pleasing face.”
“Be that as it may, after such great deceit, I shall not hold you to your marriage vows,” he answered.
“But, Sire, I love my husband and have no wish to leave him.”
He beamed with joy. “Then perhaps we shall persuade him to live in this castle and take his vows anew in grand style!”
With that, the good King Thrushbeard ordered the ladies-in-waiting to dress the Princess Alena in a radiantly beautiful gown and the wedding took place then and there.
This story was originally published in The Milwaukee Journal/Wisconsin magazine under the name Marlaine M. Rathman, in the Read Me A Story section.
© 2007 Marlaine Marie Floyd
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