The Three Golden Hairs of Grandfather Knowitall

There was a king who loved hunting more than anything. One day he chased a stag so far into the forest that he lost his way. Night came down, and by good luck he found a clearing with a charcoal-burner’s cottage in it. He asked the charcoal-burner to guide him out of the forest and promised to pay him well.

“I’d gladly take you,” said the charcoal-burner, “but my wife is about to have a baby, and I can’t leave her. It’s too late for you to go alone. Stay the night. You can sleep on the hay in the attic, and in the morning I’ll show you the way.”

The king had to agree. He climbed up to the attic and lay down on the floor. Soon afterwards a baby boy was born to the charcoal-burner.

At midnight the king noticed a strange light in the room below. He peeped through a crack between the boards. The charcoal-burner was asleep and his wife lay in a faint, and over the baby stood three old women dressed in white, each holding a lighted candle.

“My gift to this boy,” said the first, “is that he shall meet great dangers.”

“My gift,” said the second, “is that he shall come safely through them all and live a long life.”

“And I give him for his wife,” said the third, “the baby girl born this very night to the king who is lying upstairs on the straw.”

The three old women blew out their candles, and all was quiet. They were the Fates.

The king felt as if a sword had gone through his heart. He lay awake till morning, trying to think of a way to spoil the Fates’ plan. At daybreak the baby began to cry, and the charcoal-burner woke and found that his wife had died in the night.

“Oh, my poor motherless child,” he wept. “What will become of you now?”

“Give the baby to me,” said the king. “I’ll see he is well cared for, and I’ll give you enough money to last the rest of your life.” The charcoal-burner was glad to accept, and the king rode off, promising to send for the child straight away.

A few days later, when the king reached his palace, he was greeted with happy news: a beautiful baby daughter had been born to him. He asked when she was born, and of course it was the very night he had seen the Fates. Instead of smiling, the king scowled.

He called one of his stewards. “Go into the forest, the way I shall tell you, to a charcoal-burner’s cottage. Give him this money and bring away a little child. On your way back, drown it. Do as I say, or I’ll have you drowned instead.”

The steward fetched the child, laid it in a basket, and as he crossed a wide river, he dropped the basket into the water.

“Goodnight, little son-in-law that nobody wanted!” said the king when he heard. He was sure the baby had drowned.

But it hadn’t. The little basket floated like a cradle, and the baby slept as though the river were singing him a lullaby. It drifted downstream past a fisherman’s cottage. The fisherman saw it, rowed out after it, and when he saw what was inside, he was overjoyed. He carried the baby to his wife. “You’ve always wanted a little son,” he said, “and here he is. The river has given him to us.”

The fisherman’s wife was delighted and raised the boy as her own. They named him Plavachek, which means a little boy who came floating on the water.

The river flowed on and the days went by, and Plavachek grew into the handsomest young man in the whole countryside. One hot day the king happened to ride that way alone. He was thirsty and waved to the fisherman for a drink of fresh water, and it was Plavachek who brought it. The king stared at the fine young man.

“You have a splendid lad,” he said to the fisherman. “Is he your own son?”

“He is and he isn’t,” said the fisherman. “Twenty years ago a baby came floating down the river in a basket. We took him in, and he’s been ours ever since.”

Everything went misty in front of the king’s eyes and he turned deathly pale, for he knew this was the child he had ordered to be drowned. But he soon pulled himself together and jumped down from his horse. “I need a messenger to take a letter to my palace, and I have no one with me. Could this young man go for me?”

“Your Majesty has only to say the word,” said the fisherman.

The king sat down and wrote to the queen: “Have the young man who brings this letter put to the sword at once. He is a dangerous enemy. Let it be done before I return. Such is my will.” He folded the letter and sealed it with his own ring.

Plavachek set off with it straight away. His road led through a deep forest, where he lost the path and stumbled through thickets until it grew dark. Then an old woman stepped out in front of him.

“Where are you going, Plavachek?” she asked.

“I’m taking this letter to the king’s palace, but I’ve lost my way. Can you put me on the right road, mother?”

“You can’t get there tonight. It’s dark already. Stay with me. I’m no stranger; I’m your old godmother.”

Plavachek let her persuade him, and at once a pretty little house appeared before him, as if it had just sprung out of the ground. In the night, while he slept, the old woman took the letter from his pocket and put another in its place. It said: “Have the young man who brings this letter married to our daughter at once. He is my chosen son-in-law. Let the wedding take place before I return. Such is my will.”

Next day Plavachek handed over the letter, and as soon as the queen read it she ordered the wedding. She and her daughter both liked the handsome young man very much, and Plavachek fell in love with the princess at first sight and was overjoyed to marry her.

A few days after the wedding the king came home. When he heard what had happened, he flew into a fury with the queen.

“But you told me yourself to marry him to our daughter before you came back,” said the queen. “Here is your letter.”

The king examined it closely. The handwriting, the seal, the paper were all his own. He sent for his son-in-law and questioned him, and Plavachek explained how he had lost his way and spent the night with his godmother. When the king heard what she looked like, he knew she was the same old woman who had promised the princess to the charcoal-burner’s son twenty years ago.

He looked at Plavachek for a long time. “What’s done can’t be undone,” he said at last. “But you can’t expect to be my son-in-law for nothing. If you want my daughter, you must bring me a wedding gift: three golden hairs from the head of old Grandfather Knowitall.” He was sure this task was impossible, and a fine way to be rid of a son-in-law he did not want.

Plavachek said goodbye to his bride and set off. He had no idea which way to go. Everyone talked about old Grandfather Knowitall, but nobody seemed to know where he lived. Still, Plavachek had a Fate for a godmother, so he was not likely to miss the road. He travelled long and far, over wooded hills and empty plains and across deep rivers, until he came to a black sea. There he found a boat and an old ferryman.

“God bless you, old ferryman!” he said.

“May God grant it, young traveller! Where are you going?”

“To old Grandfather Knowitall, to get three of his golden hairs.”

“Oho! I’ve waited a long time for a messenger like you. For twenty years I’ve rowed people across this black sea, and nobody has come to take my place. Promise to ask Grandfather Knowitall when my work will end, and I’ll take you over.” Plavachek promised, and the ferryman rowed him across.

Next he came to a great city that was falling to pieces. Outside it he met an old man who could barely creep along, even with a stick. When he heard where Plavachek was going, he led him straight to the king.

“We have an apple tree here,” said the king, “that used to bear apples of youth. Anyone who ate one, however old, became young. But for twenty years the tree has borne no fruit. Promise to ask Grandfather Knowitall whether anything can help us, and I will reward you well.” Plavachek promised.

Further on he reached another great city, half in ruins. Near it a man was burying his father, with tears as big as peas rolling down his cheeks. He too took Plavachek to his king.

“We have a well here,” said this king, “that used to flow with the water of life. Anyone who drank it, however sick, got well. Even the dead, sprinkled with it, came back to life. But for twenty years the well has been dry. Promise to ask Grandfather Knowitall whether anything can help us, and I will reward you well.” Plavachek promised.

Then he travelled long and far into a black forest. Deep inside it lay a wide green meadow full of lovely flowers, and in the middle stood a golden palace, glittering as though it were on fire. This was the home of Grandfather Knowitall. Inside, Plavachek found no one but an old woman spinning in a corner.

“Welcome, Plavachek,” she said. “I’m glad to see you.” He looked closely and saw that she was his godmother, who had sheltered him on the night of the letter.

He told her why he had come, and she smiled. “Do you know who Grandfather Knowitall is? He is the bright Sun, who goes everywhere and sees everything. I am his mother. In the morning he is a little boy, at noon a grown man and at evening an old grandfather. I’ll get you three golden hairs from his golden head, for I must not be a godmother for nothing! But you can’t stay where you are. My son is kind, but if he comes home hungry, he might fancy roasting you for his supper. I’ll hide you under that empty tub.”

Plavachek begged her to get the answers to the three questions he had promised to ask. “I will,” she said, “and you listen carefully to what he says.”

Suddenly a great wind rushed outside, and the Sun flew in at the western window, an old grandfather with a golden head. He sniffed the air. “Phew! I smell a human being! Is somebody here, mother?”

“Star of the day, who could be here without your seeing him? You’ve been flying all day over God’s world, and your nose is full of the smell of people. That’s why you still smell them when you come home.”

The old man said no more and sat down to supper. Afterwards he laid his head in his mother’s lap and fell fast asleep. She pulled out one golden hair and dropped it on the floor, and it twanged like a violin string.

“What is it, mother?”

“Nothing, my boy. I dozed off and had a wonderful dream, about a city with a well of the water of life that has been dry for twenty years. Can anything make it flow?”

“Yes. A frog is sitting on the spring that feeds the well. Let them kill the frog and clean out the well, and the water will flow as it used to.”

When he was asleep, she pulled out a second hair. “What is it, mother?”

“Nothing, my boy. I dreamt of a city with an apple tree that bore apples of youth, but it has had no fruit for twenty years. Can anything be done?”

“Yes. A snake is lying in the roots and sucking out the tree’s strength. Let them kill the snake and plant the tree somewhere new, and it will bear fruit as it used to.”

He fell asleep, and she pulled out a third hair. “Why won’t you let me sleep, mother?” he grumbled, starting to sit up.

“Lie still, my boy. I didn’t mean to wake you, but I had one more dream, about a ferryman on the black sea. For twenty years he has rowed that boat, and nobody has taken his place. When will he be set free?”

“That ferryman is a silly fellow! Why doesn’t he push the oar into somebody else’s hand and jump ashore? Then the other man would have to be ferryman instead. Now let me rest. I must get up early tomorrow to dry the tears the king’s daughter cries every night for her husband, the charcoal-burner’s son, whom the king has sent to fetch three of my golden hairs.”

In the morning the great wind rushed outside, and a beautiful golden child, no longer an old man, woke in his mother’s lap. It was the glorious Sun. He said goodbye to his mother and flew out through an eastern window.

The old woman lifted the tub. “Here are your three golden hairs, and you heard Grandfather Knowitall’s answers to your three questions. Goodbye now. You won’t need me any more, so you won’t see me again.” Plavachek thanked her with all his heart and set off for home.

At the first city he told the king, “Good news! Clean out the well and kill the frog that sits on its spring, and the water will flow as it used to.” The king had it done straight away, and when he saw the water bubbling up, he gave Plavachek twelve horses as white as swans, loaded with all the gold and silver they could carry.

At the second city he told the king, “Good news! Dig up the apple tree. At its roots you’ll find a snake. Kill it and plant the tree again, and it will bear fruit.” The king did so, and that very night the tree burst into blossom and was soon heavy with fruit. The delighted king gave Plavachek twelve horses as black as ravens, loaded with treasure.

When he came to the black sea, the ferryman asked for his answer. “You shall have it,” said Plavachek, “but first row me across.” The ferryman wanted to hear it there and then, but Plavachek would not budge. So the old man rowed him over with his twelve white horses and his twelve black ones. When Plavachek was safe on land, he said, “The next person who wants to cross, push the oar into his hand and jump ashore. Then he will have to be ferryman in your place.”

Plavachek travelled home to the palace, and the king could hardly believe his eyes when he saw the three golden hairs. The princess cried for joy this time, not sorrow, to have her husband home. “But Plavachek,” gasped the king, “where did you get these splendid horses and all these riches?”

“I earned them,” said Plavachek proudly, and he explained how he had helped one king with a tree of apples of youth and another with a well of the water of life.

“Apples of youth! Water of life!” the king kept muttering. “One of those apples would make me young! And if I died, that water would bring me back!” Without wasting a moment he set off to find them, and do you know, he still hasn’t come home.

So Plavachek, the charcoal-burner’s son, became the king’s son-in-law, just as the Fate foretold. As for the king, well, I rather think he is still rowing that boat across the black sea!

About this telling

Parker Fillmore retold this Czech tale in Czechoslovak Fairy Tales (New York, 1919). In his note he says he did not set out to make a literal or scholarly translation but retold the stories for American children, working from Czech, Slovak and Moravian collections made by writers such as Erben and Nemcova.

Fillmore says he chose this tale to set beside a famous German version of the same story, which he thought much weaker than the Slavic one. His version also explains that Plavachek’s name means a little boy who came floating on the water, and that Grandfather Knowitall is the Sun himself.

The tale includes a mother’s death, an order to drown a baby, a later execution order and a threatened human supper. These remain part of its plot even when described briefly.

Read the original: Parker Fillmore, Czechoslovak Fairy Tales (Project Gutenberg #32217, The Three Golden Hairs)

Suggested for ages 9–12 with guidance for the threats against the baby and young man.

The king takes; Plavachek helps

The king repeatedly uses other people as instruments: he threatens the steward, sends an unwitting messenger with his own death order and uses a wedding gift as another trap. Plavachek’s journey works differently. He carries questions for strangers as well as pursuing the hairs, and the answers restore their communities. His wealth comes from those services, not merely from reaching the Sun.

The godmother does indispensable work, changing the letter and obtaining the answers while Plavachek listens. The promised fate therefore unfolds through help and choices. The ferryman’s escape is less generous: it transfers the burden to someone else. The king’s arrival makes that trap a comic punishment, but the same trick could have caught a different traveller.

Match question, answer and consequence

Draw three rows for the well, apple tree and ferry. Record the problem, the answer and who benefits. Which answer repairs a shared resource, and which simply changes who must do the work? Keep the magical frog and snake remedies inside the story; they are not instructions for looking after real wells or trees.

Think about it

• How did Plavachek’s godmother help him, both with the letter and with the golden hairs?
• Why did Plavachek make the ferryman row him across before giving him the answer?
• Do you think the king got what he deserved at the end? Why?

More stories like this

• The Glass Mountain — another Slavic tale of a hard quest
• The Tale of Ivan — another tale where good advice and patience pay off
• The Story-Teller at Fault — another tale where a powerful helper secretly arranges things