Czechoslovak Fairy Tales

“Oh, yes, very good,” said the prince, politely, “but just now I’m not hungry.”

“Well, if you’re not hungry now you will be later. Put a few in your pocket and eat them on your journey.”

So, whether he wanted them or not, the prince had to put some leaden dumplings into his pocket. Then he took his leave of Yezibaba and her son and traveled on.

He went on and on for three days and three nights. The farther he went, the more inhospitable became the country. Before him stretched a waste of mountains, behind him a waste of mountains with no living creature in sight.

Wearied with his long journey, he threw himself on the ground. His silver sword clanked sharply and at its sound twenty-four ravens circled above him, cawed in fright, and flew away.

“A good sign!” cried the prince. “I’ll follow the ravens again!”

So on he went as fast as his legs could carry him until he came in sight of a tall castle. It was still far away, but even at that distance it shone and flashed, for it was built of pure silver.

In front of the castle stood an old woman, bent with age, and leaning on a long silver staff. This was the second Yezibaba.

“Yi, yi, my boy!” she cried. “How did you get here? Why, not even a little bird or a tiny butterfly comes here, much less a human being. You’d better escape if life is dear to you, or my son, when he comes home, will eat you!”

“No, no, old mother, he won’t eat me. I bring greetings from his brother of the Leaden Castle.”

“Well, if you bring greetings from the Leaden Castle you are safe enough. Come in, my boy, and tell me your business.”

“My business? For a long time, old mother, I’ve been looking for the Glass Hill and the Three Citrons, but I can’t find them. So I’ve come to ask you whether you could tell me something about them.”

“No, my boy, I don’t know anything about the Glass Hill. But wait until my son comes. Perhaps he can help you. In the meantime hide yourself under the bed and don’t come out until I call you.”

The mountains rumbled and the castle trembled and the prince knew that Yezibaba’s son was coming home.

“Phew! Phew! I smell human meat! I’ll eat it!” bellowed the mighty fellow. He stood in the doorway and banged the ground with his silver club until the whole castle shook.

“No, no, my son,” said Yezibaba, “don’t talk that way! A pretty little chap has come bringing you greetings from your brother of the Leaden Castle.”

“Well, if he’s been at the Leaden Castle and came to no harm, he’ll have nothing to fear from me either. Where is he?”

The prince slipped out from under the bed and stood before the ogre. Looking up at him was like looking at the top of the tallest pine tree.

“Well, little June bug, so you’ve been at my brother’s, eh?”

“Yes,” said the prince. “See, I still have the dumplings he gave me for the journey.”

“I believe you. Well, what do you want?”

“What do I want? I came to ask you whether you could tell me something about the Glass Hill and the Three Citrons.”

“H’m, it seems to me I used to hear something about them, but I forget. I tell you what you do: go to my brother of the Golden Castle and ask him. But wait! I can’t let you go away hungry. Hi, mother, bring out the dumplings!”

Yezibaba brought the dumplings on a large silver dish and put them on the table.

“Eat!” shouted her son.

The prince saw they were silver dumplings, so he said he wasn’t hungry just then, but he’d like to take some with him for the journey.

“Take as many as you want,” shouted the ogre. “And give my greetings to my brother and my aunt.”

So the prince took some silver dumplings, made suitable thanks, and departed.

He journeyed on from the Silver Castle three days and three nights, through dense forests and over rough mountains, not knowing where he was nor which way to turn. At last all worn out he threw himself down in the shade of a beech tree to rest. As the sword clanked on the ground, its silver voice rang out and a flock of thirty-six ravens circled over his head.

“Caw! Caw!” they croaked. Then, frightened by the sound of the sword, they flew away.

“Praise God!” cried the prince. “The Golden Castle can’t be far!”

He jumped up and started eagerly off in the direction the ravens had taken. As he left a valley and climbed a little hill he saw before him a beautiful wide meadow in the midst of which stood the Golden Castle shining like the sun. Before the gate of the castle stood a bent old Yezibaba leaning on a golden staff.

“Yi, yi, my boy,” she cried to the prince, “how did you get here? Why, not even a little bird or a tiny butterfly comes here, much less a human being! You’d better escape if life is dear to you, or my son, when he comes home, will eat you!”

“No, no, old mother, he won’t eat me, for I bring him greetings from his brother of the Silver Castle!”

“Well, if you bring greetings from the Silver Castle you are safe enough. Come in, my boy, and tell me your business.”

“My business, old mother? For a long time I’ve been wandering over these wild mountains in search of the Glass Hill and the Three Citrons. At the Silver Castle they sent me to you because they thought you might know something about them.”

“The Glass Hill? No, I don’t know where it is. But wait until my son comes. He will advise you where to go and what to do. Hide under the table and stay there till I call you.”

The mountains rumbled and the castle trembled and Yezibaba’s son came home.

“Phew! Phew! I smell human meat! I’ll eat it!” he roared. He stood in the doorway and pounded the ground with his golden club until the whole castle shook.

“No, no, my son,” said Yezibaba, “don’t talk that way! A pretty little fellow has come bringing you greetings from your brother of the Silver Castle. If you won’t harm him, I’ll call him out.”

“Well, if my brother didn’t do anything to him, I won’t either.”

So the prince crawled out from under the table and stood before the giant. It was like standing beneath a high tower. He showed the ogre the silver dumplings as proof that he had been at the Silver Castle.

“Well, well, well, my little June bug,” shouted the monstrous fellow, “tell me what it is you want! I’ll advise you if I can! Don’t be afraid!”

So the prince told him the purpose of his journey and asked him how to get to the Glass Hill and pluck the Three Citrons.

“Do you see that blackish lump over yonder?” the ogre said, pointing with his golden club. “That is the Glass Hill. On that hill stands a tree. From that tree hang the Three Citrons which send out fragrance for seven miles around. You will climb the Glass Hill, kneel beneath the tree, and reach up your hands. If the citrons are destined for you they will fall into your hands of their own accord. If they are not destined for you, you will not be able to pluck them no matter what you do. As you return, if you are hungry or thirsty, cut open one of the citrons and you will have food and drink in plenty. Go now with God’s blessing. But wait! I can’t let you go away hungry! Hi, mother, bring out the dumplings!”

Yezibaba set a large golden dish on the table.

“Eat!” her son shouted. “Or, if you are not hungry just now, put some in your pocket and eat them on the way.”

The prince said that he was not hungry but that he would be glad to take some of the golden dumplings with him and eat them later. Then he thanked the ogre most courteously for his hospitality and advice and took his leave.

He trudged quickly on from hill to dale, from dale to hill again, and never stopped until he reached the Glass Hill itself. Then he stood still as if turned into stone. The hill was high and steep and smooth with not so much as a scratch on its surface. Over its top spread out the branches of the magic tree upon which hung the Three Citrons. Their fragrance was so powerful that the prince almost fainted.

“Let it be as God wills!” he thought to himself. “But however the adventure is to come out, now that I’m here I must at least make the attempt.”