The Mermaid of Warsaw Page 4

  If this alone had been his lot in life, the crooked misanthrope would surely have been one of the most miserable creatures on earth. But his existence was made more bearable by his rare talent for magic. With a flick of his wand he could turn himself into one of the most handsome princes the world had ever seen. Gone was the stooping gait and the camel-like hump. In its place stood a fine figure standing tall in black, knee-length leather boots and a gilt-studded scarlet riding-jacket. In those moments of enchantment even Karkonosze Castle, a neglected and crumbling Silesian ruin where the Hunchback had lived for more than one hundred years, stood gleaming beneath the rising sun as if it had only just been built.

  The only problem with the magic was that it did not last. As it faded, the Hunchback’s perfectly shaped nose slowly turned back into a mushroom-like growth, his straight back would begin to bend and bow, leaving him caught halfway between beauty and ugliness. And the hedges shielding his castle in the folds of the Silesian mountains would soon turn back into bramble bushes that kept the old ruin hidden from view. At such moments, disconsolate and world-weary, the Hunchback of Karkonosze would retire to his turnip garden, an old field behind the castle where he grew his favourite vegetable. There he would spend hours dreaming that one day he would marry a beautiful princess. “My little treasure”, he would call her.

  One crisp spring morning, news came to him, whispering on the wind through blossoming branches and chirping birds, of a new treasure, one he’d never dreamed of before, so beautiful that she was almost impossible to imagine.

  “Long, flowing golden hair and skin the colour of a white pearl,” whispered the trees, as they rustled their branches.

  “Her name is Ofka, and she is the daughter of the Piast Prince Bolko,” sang the sparrows.

  In the gentle babbling of a little mountain stream, the Hunchback fancied he heard her sweet, melodic voice. He saw her reflection in the shimmering haze of glacier lakes and he smelt her perfume on the breeze. It wasn’t long before he was so haunted by the thought of this beautiful girl that he could not remove her image from his mind.

  A day came when he could bear this unwelcome torment no longer.

  “Wherever this lovely flower is, I will catch her scent and steal her delicate heart for myself!” he cried.

  So he decided to search for the object of his desire – unaware that the princess had just left her castle at Swidnica for a brief stay in the Silesian mountains. Soon she was to be married to her fiancé, Prince Mieszko, a valiant, noble knight, and this was her last sojourn alone.

  One day, the Hunchback was out walking when he spotted the royal entourage in the distance: two sumptuous, gold-lined carriages draped in white lace and pulled by the finest horses. As they passed by, the Hunchback concealed himself behind a clump of gorse bushes.

  As he knelt there, he heard the voice of a gossipy snail: “Oh yes, they say that Princess Ofka has come to stay in the mountains with her twelve maids.”

  The voice which issued from the small, stripy shell made the Hunchback feel so happy, he wanted to jump in the air and shout for joy.

  “By all the turnips in Karkonosze! My love is paying me a visit at last!”

  Then, catching a glimpse of his reflection in a mountain lake, the full extent of his ugliness dawned on him once more.

  “Fool!” he chided himself. “Step out looking like this, and she’ll probably run all the way back to Swidnica!”

  There was no time to lose. He rushed home, a crafty plan hatching in his mind.

  The following day, the Hunchback hobbled out of the castle carrying a fresh turnip under one arm. He crept through the thick forests and along the narrow leafy paths until he drew near to the place where the princess was staying. Hearing the shrill giggles of several young girls, he guessed that she was out walking with her maids.

  He had his trusty wand ready in his hand. With an electrifying flash, the turnip turned into a black stallion, and the Hunchback was now wearing a smart blue-and-white military uniform. Galloping through the pine trees, he came face to face with Ofka and her retinue. She was a thousand times more beautiful in the flesh than he had ever imagined.

  The princess could hardly resist looking at such a dashing man, and for a moment their eyes met.

  “Have I seen you before?” she asked shyly.

  The twelve maids had run off, leaving her alone with the stranger.

  “I am the Prince of Karkonosze, my lady,” he announced. “It appears you haven’t heard about me, but I know you very well…” And he bowed in an exaggerated manner.

  Before the princess could reply, he swept her up off her feet, placed her on his horse and rode briskly off into the Silesian Mountains.

  “But… my maids… I can’t leave them…” she sighed, as if in a trance.

  “Oh don’t worry. We will come back for them. I thought that you might like to see my castle,” replied the handsome knight, gathering speed.

  As they rode, the princess clung to her captor’s blue-and-white jacket. The black horse galloped through pine forests and over mountain streams, sprays of mud splashing through the air. Its master was keen to get back to the castle before the magic wore off.

  Imagine Ofka’s surprise, then, when the elegant jacket she was clinging to changed into a moth-eaten rag and the prince’s long, flowing brown locks turned into greasy, yellowish unkempt hair. And when he looked round at her, the prince’s nose appeared to have grown a wart!

  “I must be dreaming…” she whispered to herself. The words had barely left her mouth when the castle loomed up in front of them. A moment later, they stood before a crumbling ruin – and the Prince of Karkonosze had crumbled too. Gone were his charm and his good looks, and as soon as they dismounted from the horse, it changed back into a turnip!

  He pulled Ofka inside the ruin. “Stay here. I’ll get you some food,” he barked, and ran off to turn himself back into a prince.

  It wasn’t long before Ofka began to dislike the grubby little castle and its equally shabby host, who seemed to be nothing more than a cheap conjurer.

  “You give me a plate of the finest Silesian sausage, sour cabbage and dumplings, and when I go to eat it, I find nothing but a bowl of lumpy gravy!”

  “My dearest, you are so ungrateful!” he huffed.

  “Ungrateful! I didn’t ask to be fed by a hunchback. You’re not a real prince and this isn’t a real castle. But I am a real princess, engaged to be married to Mieszko, who is a real knight. I insist you let me go at once!”

  The Hunchback sneered.

  “I will never let you go, my dear, until you promise me that you will be my wife.”

  “That’s impossible. I’m in love with another man!” she answered.

  “But I’ve given you everything. You even have your maids here with you.”

  “Maids! These aren’t my maids. Just look at them! They’re just a pile of stinking turnips!”

  It was true. When the princess had complained of loneliness, the Hunchback had brought her twelve turnips. “Touch these with my wand, and you will have your maids back again,” he had told her. But they had proved to be no more than shadows, and as she watched, the skin on their faces had begun to wrinkle and one by one, their bodies started to shrink and get rounder!

  “See!” she wailed. “Nothing but old turnips!”

  The Hunchback stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

  “It’s quite simple. Marry me, and I’ll let you out,” he called back to her.

  Alone in her room with its shabby, damp walls and dingy windows, the princess began to weep bitter tears.

  “Oh dearest Mieszko. If only you knew where I was and could come and rescue me. How am I going to get out of here?”

  If only she had known it, a little sparrow perched on the window ledge heard her plea, and flew off to tell Prince Mieszko of her plight.

  All night the princess sat up and thought. Somehow she must trick this horrible imposter and escape. And by morning she had a plan
.

  When the Hunchback knocked on her door with a breakfast of eggs and bread in one hand, the princess thanked him and said, “I have something important to tell you.” Imagine the Hunchback’s surprise and delight when the princess declared: “I have decided to marry you…”

  The crooked old misanthrope clapped his hands and dropped down on one knobbly knee. But before he could speak, Ofka added, “on condition that we have the most enormous wedding ever seen in the Silesian mountains. I want to invite everyone – all my friends, my family, my servants – everyone!”

  The Hunchback was speechless. He couldn’t believe his luck.

  “Now,” continued Ofka, “go out into your garden and count exactly how many turnips you have. That is the number of guests I will invite.”

  The master of Karkonosze castle was delighted. What a splendid idea! “Good Lord!” he cried. “We’ll have a feast! Do you know how many turnips I’ve got in that garden? Hundreds, thousands… dare I say it, millions! I’ve been growing the damn things all my life!”

  And with that, he skipped joyously out to the field, and bending down, began to count the rows and rows of turnips.

  As soon as he had gone, the clever princess waved the magic wand over one of the turnip-maids, uttered a little spell which the Hunchback had taught her – and was soon riding away from the castle on a white mare. Free – at last!

  Her horse was just about to become a turnip again, when she spotted a familiar figure in the distance. It was her beloved fiancé, Prince Mieszko, who had left his home at Raciborz and was out searching for his sweetheart!

  So delighted were they to see each other again, the princess hardly had time to tell her story before the prince said to her, “My poor dear, you look exhausted! Quick, let’s ride at once to my father’s castle. We can be married in a few days.” And he smiled at the thought of this beautiful, clever woman who had outwitted her captor, and thanked the heavens for sending the little sparrow to him.

  As for the Hunchback of Karkonosze, he is still in his turnip garden trying to come up with the right number of guests for his wedding. The creatures of Karkonosze can’t stop laughing at him, and they sing, “Liczyrzepa, Liczyrzepa… look at old Liczyrzepa!” which, as you have probably guessed, means “Turnip-counter”.

  But all this chanting only makes the Hunchback cross, and he shakes his knotty little fists at the sky before starting all over again.

  Well, counting turnips is not an easy task, you know. They all look the same!

  The Copper Coin of Wineta

  Beyond the white sandy beaches of the Baltic coast, in the depths of the countryside, a prosperous couple lived on their estate. They had everything they wished for – except a child. How many times had Ewelina, the landowner’s wife, lain awake at night longing for the next day to bring her a son or daughter to hold?

  “Wieslaw, my dearest, I can’t sleep… Wieslaw! Are you awake?”

  Her husband would turn over, trying to hide his irritation at being woken, and reply sleepily, “Yes, dear… I am now…”

  “There are so many orphans in the world. Surely we could find one and bring it up as our own child…”

  “But where shall we find a child with a good heart? We’d probably have to travel the length and breadth of the country,” lamented her husband.

  “Well, let’s see what the new day brings,” replied Ewelina, and with hope glimmering in her heart she would fall asleep and dream about a young boy who was rescuing her from great danger…

  A sudden commotion woke Ewelina. She sat up in bed and saw a red light through the curtain of her bedroom window. Someone was shrieking in the yard below, “Wake up! Wake up! Fire! Fire!”

  At first Ewelina thought she was still dreaming, but when the frantic voice continued, she shook her husband violently.

  Old Wieslaw jumped out of bed like a hare and raced downstairs to find a hose. Outside, a young boy was shouting and desperately trying to douse the flames with buckets of water. “Quick, get out of the house! Smother the flames before they spread!”

  And by the time Ewelina came down, the two of them had put out the fire.

  Wieslaw was puzzled. Who was this young boy who had saved their lives, and where had he come from? He asked the boy, who replied, “My mother and father died a long time ago. I’m travelling around in search of a job…”

  “So you are an orphan!” Ewelina put her hands together and looked up to the skies with gratitude, then at her husband.

  “From this day onwards you will stay with us. It’s the least we can do for you, since you have saved our lives!” she exclaimed.

  Young Slawek, for that was his name, was soon comfortably settled with his foster parents. He was a hard worker and it wasn’t long before the estate had recovered from the fire. The harvest was bountiful, the animals were breeding, the labourers were healthy and every day, merchants travelled from far and wide to buy the fresh vegetables, mellow oats, ripe wheat and creamy milk produced on the bustling farm.

  It was while listening to the merchants that Slawek heard tales of the mysterious town of Wineta where, they said, the coloured houses touched the blue sky and the streets were full of busy stalls teemingwith the riches of the world: nutmeg, cloves and pepper from the Spice Islands, tea from China, mangoes and pomegranates from Malaya, coffee from Brazil… Slawek’s mouth watered at the thought of these exotic foods. And that wasn’t all. He also heard tales of sparkling diamonds and blood-red rubies as big as eggs!

  Slawek made up his mind: he would go and see Wineta for himself!

  Old Ewelina looked fondly at her foster son as she prepared him a generous bundle of food.

  “Slawek, you know how sorry your father and I are that you’re leaving us. You will come back soon, won’t you?”

  The boy’s big blue eyes were sparkling at the prospect of the adventure to come, but he loved his foster parents and the thought of leaving them filled him with sadness.

  “If it hadn’t been for you, my lad, this farm would have burnt to a cinder. We need you here all the time…” added his foster father, and his voice shook as he spoke.

  Heavy rain followed the boy all the way to the coast. Three long days of blustery squalls and showers sent him and his trusty horse diving for the cover of woodland and forest. But when he arrived at his longed-for destination, golden sun shone down on the pretty little coastal town of Wineta with its coloured houses, cobbled square and cloth-covered market stalls. Slawek was astonished. He had never seen such a beautiful place in his life. He quickly dismounted and left his horse with the stable boy at a local inn, then made his way back into the square to see what the merchants had to sell.

  While the young traveller was admiring the hustle and bustle of the market, he trod on something hard. Underneath his sandal was a small copper coin. Slawek bent down to pick it up. He rolled it in his hand and read the inscription: Grosz pomorski (“Pomeranian penny”). It was hardly worth anything, and in such a wealthy town he imagined few would notice it. But being an honest, hard-working boy, Slawek wanted to trace its owner and give the coin back.

  The moment he called out, “Does this coin belong to anybody?” people started crowding in upon him. The greedy faces of strangers leered into his face.

  “That’s my coin.”

  “It belongs to me…”

  “No, it doesn’t! It’s mine. Give it to me…”

  “Thief!”

  One loud voice boomed out above all the rest. Slawek looked up into the red face of the market guard.

  “Boy! Did you find this coin or did you steal it? Answer me!” he bellowed.

  “I found it, sir. I was just trying…”

  “Liar!” roared the guard. “That coin is mine. You stole it! To the tower with you!”

  Inside the tower, poor Slawek tossed and turned on the cold stone floor. Hundreds of thoughts went through his mind as he tried to make sense of what had happened. Had he done something wrong? He had stumbled on a coin and tried to
find the owner, and now he was accused of stealing it!

  The moon shone through a small window in the stone wall and strange shadows played tricks on his mind. Slawek woke in a cold sweat. Horrible faces crowded in upon him. In desperation, the boy called out, “Mother, father, help me! You were right… why did I ever leave you?”

  Early the next morning when the cockerel had crowed, the grumpy jailer opened the tower doors and dragged his dishevelled prisoner before the Mayor of Wineta. This short, fat man with dark beady eyes had the look of a man who enjoyed his food and nourished himself on daily lies. Slawek was just reflecting on this, when the plump Mayor turned on his heels, tapped his pointy black boots together and cried, “What is the meaning of this? I dropped a coin here… in this very square, yesterday… and you… ragamuffin… you crook… have stolen it!”

  The Mayor’s fat cheeks were bright purple. Everyone stared at him, but no one dared speak. All the merchants of Wineta knew that the Mayor had been out of town on business the previous day, so how could he have dropped a coin in the square?

  Slawek tried to defend himself.

  “Sir, please… forgive me. I only picked the coin up. I had every intention of returning it… to its rightful owner.”

  “Seven years you will get for this! Seven long years in jail!” roared the furious Mayor.

  These words had hardly left his mouth when all at once the clear blue sky turned pitch-black and bright yellow bolts of lightning forked towards the earth. A few seconds later, thunder boomed out angrily, making the ground shake and shudder.

  Slawek stood petrified, his fists clasped tight. As he watched, he couldn’t believe his eyes… All around him the beautiful town was sinking into the deep blue sea. Houses and old buildings toppled and crumbled, and the powdery dust fell into the boiling water and was greedily devoured by the frothy waves.