Selected Tales of the Brothers Grimm(16)

Some time later the king returned to the castle and saw that the prophecy had been fulfilled and that the good-luck child was wed to his daughter.

“How did this happen?” he asked. “My letter contained an altogether different command.”

Then the queen handed him the letter and told him to read for himself what it said. The king read it and saw that his letter had been swapped with another. He asked the youth what became of the letter he had entrusted to him, why he had brought another in its place.

“I have no idea,” said the boy. “It must have been swapped with another as I slept in the forest.”

Enraged, the king replied, “You won’t get off that easy. Whoever wants to have my daughter must first fetch me three golden hairs from the Devil’s own head in Hell. Bring me what I ask and you can keep my daughter.” With this the king hoped to be rid of him forever.

But the good-luck child replied, “Gladly will I go fetch the three golden hairs. I’m not afraid of the Devil.” Whereupon he took his leave and set out on his way.

The road led him to a great city, where the gatekeeper at the city gate asked him what trade he plied and what he knew.

“I know everything,” replied the good-luck child.

“Then you can do us a favor,” said the guard, “if you could tell us why our marketplace well which used to run deep with wine now no longer even gives us water.”

“That I will find out for you,” replied the youth. “Just wait till I return.”

Then he continued on his way and came to another city, in which the gatekeeper once again asked him what trade he plied and what he knew.

“I know everything,” he said.

“Then you can do us a favor and tell us why a tree in our town which used to bear golden apples now no longer even grows leaves.”

“That I will find out for you,” the youth replied. “Just wait till I return.”

Then he continued on his way and came to a great body of water that he was obliged to cross. The ferryman asked him what trade he plied and what he knew.

“I know everything,” he replied.

“Then you can do me a favor,” said the ferryman, “and tell me why I must always ferry back and forth and never be relieved of my duty.”

“That I will find out for you,” the youth replied. “Just wait till I return.”

Once he got to the other side of the body of water he found the gateway to Hell. It was black and sooty inside and the Devil was not home, but his grandmother sat there in an easy chair.

“What do you want?” she said to him, though she didn’t look mean at all.

“I would like to have three golden hairs from the Devil’s head,” he replied, “or else I can’t keep my wife.”

“That’s asking a lot,” she said. “When the Devil gets home and finds you here, things won’t go well for you, but I have pity on you. I’ll see if I can help.” She transformed him into an ant and said, “Crawl into the pleats of my skirt. You will be safe there.”

“Right,” he said, “but there are three things I’d still like to know: Why a well that once ran deep with wine has dried up and no longer even gives water; why a tree that once bore golden apples no longer even grows leaves; and why a ferryman has to keep ferrying back and forth and is never relieved of his duty.”

“Those are difficult questions,” she replied, “but just keep still, don’t budge, and listen to what the Devil says when I pluck out the three golden hairs.”

When night fell, the Devil came home. No sooner had he returned than he noticed that the air was not clean. “Something is not right,” he said. “I smell the scent of human flesh.” Then he searched every corner, but he couldn’t find anything.

His grandmother scolded him. “I just swept the place,” she said, “and made everything nice and tidy, and you have to go and make a mess again. You’ve always got the scent of human flesh in your nose! Sit down and eat your dinner.” Once he had eaten and drunk, he felt tired, lay his head in his grandmother’s lap, and asked her to delouse him a little. It didn’t take long before he fell fast asleep, whistling and snoring. Then the old woman grabbed a golden hair, tore it out, and lay it beside her.

“Ouch!” cried the Devil. “What’s the idea?”

“I had a troubled dream,” his grandmother replied, “so I grabbed you by the hair.”

“What did you dream?” asked the devil.

“I dreamed that a marketplace well that ordinarily ran deep with wine went dry and no longer even gave water. What do you suppose is the reason?”