The Greek Princess and the Young Gardener

There was once a king, though I never heard what country he ruled, and he had one very beautiful daughter. He was growing old and sickly, and the doctors found that the finest medicine in the world for him was the apples of a tree that grew in the orchard right under his window. You may be sure he had that tree well guarded, and had the apples counted from the time they were the size of small marbles.

One autumn, just as they were starting to ripen, the king was woken one night by the flapping of wings in the orchard. He looked out, and there among the branches of his tree was a bird whose feathers were so bright that they lit up everything round them. The moment it saw the king in his nightcap and nightshirt, it snapped off an apple and flew away.

“Bother that thief of a gardener!” said the king. “This is a fine way to guard my precious fruit!” He did not sleep a wink for the rest of the night, and as soon as anyone was stirring in the palace, he sent for the gardener and scolded him for his carelessness.

“If it please your Majesty,” said the gardener, “you shan’t lose another apple. My three sons are the best archers in the kingdom, and they and I will keep watch by turns every night.”

That night the gardener’s eldest son took his place in the garden with his bow strung and an arrow between his fingers, and he watched and watched. But at the dead hour of midnight, the king, who was wide awake, heard the wings and ran to the window. There was the shining bird in the tree, and there was the young man sound asleep with his back to the wall and his bow on his lap.

“Get up, you lazy rascal!” shouted the king. “There’s that bird, bother her!” Up jumped the poor fellow, but while he was fumbling with arrow and string, off went the bird with the best apple on the tree.

How the king fumed and fretted, and how he scolded the gardener and the boy, and what a long day he spent waiting for midnight! This time he kept his eye on the gardener’s second son. The lad was wide awake and lively when the clock began to strike twelve, but before the last stroke had sounded, the king saw him stretched out like a dead man in the long grass, and saw the bright bird, and heard her wings, and watched her carry off a third apple. The young man woke at the king’s roar and even managed to shoot an arrow after the bird, but you may be sure he missed. Angry as the king was, he could see that the poor fellows were under a spell and could not help it.

He had some hope of the youngest son, a brave, lively young man whom everybody spoke well of. There he stood ready, with the king talking to him from the window at the first stroke of twelve. At the last stroke the glow that came ahead of the bird lit up the wall and the trees, the rush of wings was heard as she flew into the branches, and in the same instant the crack of an arrow against her side could have been heard a quarter of a mile off. Down fell the arrow with a large bright feather, and away went the bird with a screech fit to burst your eardrums. She had no time to take an apple, and when the feather was carried up to the king’s room, it was heavier than lead and turned out to be the finest beaten gold.

There was a great fuss made of the youngest son the next day. He kept watch every night for a week, but there was not a speck of a bird or a feather to be seen, so the king told him to go home and sleep. Everybody admired the golden feather, but the king was completely bewitched by it. He turned it round and round and rubbed it on his forehead and his nose all day long, and at last he proclaimed that he would give his daughter and half his kingdom to whoever brought him the bird with the golden feathers, dead or alive.

The gardener’s eldest son had a high opinion of himself, and off he went to find the bird. In the afternoon he sat under a tree to rest and eat some bread and cold meat from his bag, when up came as fine-looking a fox as you could wish to see.

“Please, sir,” said the fox, “would you spare a bit of that meat for a poor hungry creature?”

“You have a nerve, you common robber, asking me that!” said the young man. “Here’s your answer.” And he shot an arrow at the little red fox. The arrow scraped up his side and over his back as if he were made of hammered iron and stuck in a tree some distance off.

“Foul play,” said the fox. “But I respect your young brother, so I’ll give you some advice. At nightfall you will come to a village. On one side of the street you will see a big room lit up and full of young men and women dancing and drinking. On the other side you’ll see a house with no light except the fire in the front room, and nobody there but a man, his wife and their child. Take a fool’s advice and ask for lodging there.” With that he curled his tail over his back and trotted off.

The young man found everything just as the fox had said, but he chose the dancing and drinking, and there we will leave him.

After a week, when the family grew tired of waiting for him, the second son said he would try his luck. He was just as ill-natured and foolish as his brother, and the same thing happened to him.

When another week had passed, the youngest set off. Sure enough, he sat under the same tree and took out his bread and meat, and the same fox came up and greeted him. This young man shared his dinner with the little fox, who wasted no time but told him he knew all about his errand. “I’ll help you,” he said, “if I find you do as you’re told. Just at nightfall you will come to a village…” and he gave the same advice. “Goodbye till tomorrow.”

It was just as the fox said, but the young man kept well away from dancers, drinkers, fiddlers and pipers. He was made welcome in the quiet house with supper and a bed, and he was on his way the next morning before the sun was as high as the trees. He had not gone a quarter of a mile when he saw the fox coming out of a wood by the roadside.

“Good morning, fox.”

“Good morning, sir. Have you any idea how far you must travel to find the golden bird?”

“Not a notion. How could I?”

“Well, I have. She is in the King of Spain’s palace, a good two hundred miles away.”

“Oh dear, that will take us a week.”

“No, it won’t. Sit on my tail, and we’ll soon make the road short.”

“Your tail, indeed! That would be a funny sort of saddle, my poor little fox.”

“Do as I tell you, or I’ll leave you to manage by yourself.”

Rather than upset him, the young man sat on the tail, which spread out flat like a wing, and away they went as fast as thought. They overtook the wind in front of them, and the wind behind them could not catch them. In the afternoon they stopped in a wood near the King of Spain’s palace and waited there till dark.

“Now,” said the fox, “I’ll go ahead and put the guards at their ease, and all you have to do is walk from one lighted hall to the next until you find the golden bird in the last. If you have any sense, you’ll carry the bird and her cage outside the door, and then nobody can lay a hand on her or on you. If you have no sense, I can’t help you, and neither can anyone else.”

A quarter of an hour later the young man followed. In the first hall he saw twenty armed guards standing upright, all fast asleep. In the next there were twelve, in the next six, and in the next three, and in the room beyond there was no guard at all and no lamp or candle, yet it was as bright as day, for there was the golden bird in a plain cage of wood and wire, and on the table were the three apples turned to solid gold. On the same table stood the loveliest golden cage that eyes ever saw, and it came into the young man’s head that it would be a thousand pities not to put the precious bird into it, since the plain cage was so unworthy of her. Maybe he was thinking of what it was worth; anyway, he made the change, and he soon had good reason to regret it. The instant the bird’s wing touched the golden wires, she let out a squawk fit to shatter every pane of glass in the windows, and at that the three guards, the six, the twelve and the twenty all woke, rattled their swords and spears, surrounded the poor young man and jeered and shouted at him until he did not know whether he was standing on his head or his feet.

They called the king, who listened with a very grim face. “You ought to be on the gallows this minute,” he said, “but I’ll give you a chance of your life, and of the golden bird too. I lay you under bonds and penalties, on pain of death, to go and bring me the bay filly of the King of Morocco, who outruns the wind and leaps over castle walls. When you lead her into the yard of this palace, you shall have the golden bird and leave to go where you please.”

Out went the young man, very downhearted, but as he walked along, who should come out of a thicket but the fox.

“Ah, my friend,” said the fox, “I was right to suspect you had no sense. But I won’t rub your fur the wrong way. Get on my tail, and when we reach the King of Morocco’s palace, we’ll see what we can do.” Away they went as fast as thought, overtaking the wind ahead while the wind behind could not catch them, and night found them in a wood near the palace.

“I’ll go and make things easy for you at the stables,” said the fox. “When you lead out the filly, don’t let her touch the door or the doorposts or anything but the ground, and that only with her hoofs. And if you lose your head once you’re in the stable, you’ll be worse off than ever.”

The young man waited a quarter of an hour and then went into the great yard of the palace. Two rows of armed men stretched from the gate to the stable, every one of them in the deepest sleep, and he walked between them into the stable. There stood the filly, as handsome a horse as ever stretched a leg, with one stable boy holding a currycomb, another a bridle, another a sieve of oats and another an armful of hay, all as still as if they were carved from stone. The filly was the only living thing there besides himself. On her back was a plain saddle of wood and leather, but a golden saddle beautifully worked hung on the post, and he thought it the greatest pity not to put it on her in place of the other. I believe there was some spell on that saddle; anyway, he took off the plain one and put on the gold. Out of the filly’s throat came a squeal that could have been heard from one end of the county to the other, and up jumped the armed men and the stable boys to surround the foolish young man, and the King of Morocco was soon there with them, scowling darkly.

He stood for a while enjoying the abuse everyone heaped on the poor young man, and then he said, “You deserve hanging for your cheek, but I’ll give you a chance of your life and the filly too. I lay you under bonds and penalties, on pain of death, to go and bring me Princess Golden Locks, the King of Greece’s daughter. When you put her into my hand, you may have the Daughter of the Wind and welcome. Come in and have your supper and rest, and be off at the first light.”

The poor young man was very down in the mouth as he walked away the next morning, and very ashamed when the fox came out of the wood and looked up into his face.

“What a thing it is,” said the fox, “not to have any sense when you need it most! And now we have a long journey to the King of Greece’s palace. Bad luck now, the same as always. Get on my tail, and we’ll make the road shorter.”

Off they went as fast as thought, and in the evening they were eating their bread and cold meat in the wood near the castle. “Now,” said the fox, “I’ll go ahead and make things easy. Follow me in a quarter of an hour. Don’t let Princess Golden Locks touch the doorposts with her hands or her hair or her clothes, and if she asks you for any favour, be careful how you answer. Once she is outside the door, nobody can take her from you.”

In went the young man at the right time, past the twenty, the twelve, the six and the three guards, all standing or leaning on their weapons, all fast asleep, and in the farthest room of all was Princess Golden Locks, as lovely as a goddess, asleep in one chair while her father, the King of Greece, slept in another. The young man stood looking at her for a long time, with love sinking deeper into his heart every minute, until at last he knelt, took her white hand in his and kissed it. When she opened her eyes, she was a little frightened, but not very angry, I believe, for he was a fine, handsome young fellow, with all the respect and love you could think of in his face. She asked what he wanted, and he stammered and blushed and started his story six times before she understood it.

“And would you hand me over to the King of Morocco?” she said.

“I am bound to,” he said, “under bonds and penalties, on pain of death. But I will free you or lose my life trying. If I can’t have you for my wife, my days on earth will be short.”

“Well, let me at least say goodbye to my father.”

“Ah, I can’t allow that, or they would all wake, and I would be put to death or sent off on some task worse than any yet.”

But she begged to be allowed just to kiss the old man, which surely would not wake him, and then she would go. How could he refuse, when his heart was tangled in every curl of her hair? But the moment her lips touched her father’s, he gave a cry, and every one of the guards woke, clashed their weapons and made ready to hang the foolish young man. The king told them to hold their hands until he understood what was going on, and when he heard the young man’s story, he gave him a chance of his life.

“In front of the palace,” he said, “there is a great heap of clay that keeps the sun off the walls even at midsummer. Everyone who ever worked at it found two shovelfuls added for every one they took away. Clear it, and I’ll let my daughter go with you. If you are the man I take you for, I don’t think she is in much danger of becoming the wife of that King of Morocco.”

Early next morning the young man set to work, and for every shovelful he threw away, two came back on him, until he could hardly climb out of the heap that piled up round him. Somehow he scrambled out and sat on a sod, and he would have cried if he had not been ashamed to. He tried in a dozen places, each worse than the last, and late in the evening, as he sat with his head in his hands, who should be standing before him but the fox.

“Well, my poor fellow, you are low enough,” said the fox. “Go in. I won’t say anything to add to your trouble. Have your supper and your rest. Tomorrow is a new day.”

“How is the work going?” the king asked at supper.

“Faith, your Majesty,” said the poor young man, “it isn’t going, it’s growing. I expect you’ll have to dig me out tomorrow at sunset to wake me.”

“I hope not,” said the princess, with a smile on her kind face, and he was as happy as could be for the rest of the evening.

The next morning he was woken by shouting, bugles and drums, such a hullabaloo as he had never heard. He ran out to see what was the matter, and where the heap of clay had stood the evening before, soldiers, servants, lords and ladies were dancing like mad for joy that it was gone. “Ah, my poor fox,” he said to himself, “this is your work.”

There was little delay about leaving. The king wanted to send a great escort with the princess and the young man, but the young man would not put him to the trouble. “I have a friend,” he said, “who will carry us both to the King of Morocco’s palace in a day.” There was great weeping when the princess parted from her father. “Ah, what a lonely life I’ll have now!” said the old king. “Your poor brother in the power of that wicked witch and kept away from us, and now you taken from me in my old age!”

As the two walked through the wood, with the young man telling her how much he loved her, out stepped the fox from behind a bush, and soon the young man and the princess were sitting on his brush, holding each other tight for fear of slipping off, and away they went like thought. By evening they were in the great yard of the King of Morocco’s castle.

“Well,” said the king to the young man, “you have done your duty well. Bring out the bay filly. I’d give a yard full of such fillies, if I had them, for this lovely princess. Get on your horse, and here is a good purse of gold for the road.”

“Thank you,” said the young man. “I suppose you’ll let me shake hands with the princess before I go?”

“Yes, indeed, and welcome.”

He took a little while over the handshake, and before it was finished he had her settled snugly behind him, and while you could count three, he and she and the filly were through all the guards and far away. On they rode, and the next morning they were in the wood near the King of Spain’s palace, and there was the fox waiting.

“Leave your princess here with me,” said the fox, “and go and get the golden bird and the three apples. If you don’t bring the filly back along with the bird, I’ll have to carry you both home myself.”

When the King of Spain saw the young man and the filly in his yard, he had the golden bird, the golden cage and the golden apples brought out and handed over, and he was very grateful and very pleased with his prize. But the young man could not part with the lovely horse without patting and stroking her, and when nobody was expecting it, he was up on her back, through the guards and far away, and soon he came to where he had left the princess and the fox. They hurried until they were safely out of the King of Spain’s land, and then they went on at an easier pace, and if I told you all the loving things the two of them said to each other, the story would not be over till morning.

As they passed the village with the dance house, they found his two brothers begging there and brought them along. When they came to the spot where the fox had first appeared, the fox begged the young man to cut off his head and his tail. He would not do it; he shivered at the very thought, but the eldest brother was ready enough. With the blows, the head and tail vanished, and the body turned into the finest young man you ever saw. Who was he but the princess’s brother, who had been under the witch’s spell!

Whatever joy they had felt up to then, they felt twice as much now, and when they reached the palace, bonfires were lit, oxen roasted and casks of wine set out on the lawn. The young Prince of Greece married the king’s daughter, and the prince’s sister married the gardener’s son. The gardener’s son and his bride travelled a shorter road to her father’s house with many attendants, and the king was so glad of the golden bird and the golden apples that he sent a wagon full of gold and a wagon full of silver along with them.

Where this story comes from

Joseph Jacobs took this tale for More Celtic Fairy Tales from Patrick Kennedy’s Fireside Stories. He points out that it is clearly the same story as the Grimms’ “Golden Bird,” and that the Highland tale “Mac Iain Direach” in Campbell’s West Highland Tales is another version.

Jacobs compares the tale with the Dutch Arthurian romance of Walewein, or Gawain, citing W. P. Ker. He uses that comparison to propose an early twelfth-century Celtic history for the plot. That is Jacobs’s historical inference in his notes, not a demonstrated date of origin for this particular Irish telling.

Kennedy’s narrator scatters Irish words through the telling; here they are put into plain English. A few rough insults the narrator puts in the young man’s mouth about the King of Morocco, mocking his looks and colour, are left out, and some mild oaths are dropped.

Read the original: Joseph Jacobs, More Celtic Fairy Tales (Project Gutenberg #34453, The Greek Princess and the Young Gardener)

Suggested for ages 9–12 with guidance for repeated execution threats, a princess demanded as payment, and a fox’s beheading that breaks an enchantment.

Not every failed instruction is the same mistake

The golden cage and saddle tempt the gardener to improve appearances and increase his prize. The princess’s farewell is different: he allows it because she wants to kiss her father. The result is another alarm, but treating the three scenes as identical greed misses a conflict between efficient escape and someone else’s attachment to home.

The rulers repeatedly threaten death to obtain what they want, and the princess is included in their exchanges alongside a horse and a bird. Her eventual affection does not make those demands fair. The fox, himself her enchanted brother, supplies the crucial help; even the elder brothers contribute at the end, when the eldest breaks the spell that the youngest cannot bear to attack.

Compare the three alarms

For the bird, filly and princess, identify the instruction, the reason it is not followed and the next demand imposed. Which choice is about a valuable object, and which concerns a person’s wishes? Then compare the youngest son’s shared meal with the elder sons’ arrows: the fox gives all three advice, but their responses differ.

Questions to ask

• What advice does the fox give all three brothers, and how does each respond?
• What mistake did the young man make in each palace, and what did it cost him?
• Who was the fox really, and how was the spell broken?

Related stories

• The Russet Dog — another tale of a helpful animal from More Celtic Fairy Tales
• The Lad with the Goat-Skin — another lively Irish hero tale from Jacobs
• The Field of Boliauns — another Irish tale full of storyteller’s chat