The Three Golden Hairs

Once there was a poor woman who had a little son, and he was born with a caul over his face, which people believed was a sign of great luck. So the wise folk of the village said that in his fourteenth year he would marry the King's own daughter.

Not long after, the King himself passed through that village in disguise, and when he asked what news there was, the villagers told him about the child born with a caul, and the strange prophecy that went with him. This troubled the King greatly, for he did not wish his daughter to marry a poor miller's son. So he went to the parents with a friendly smile and offered them a great deal of gold if they would let him take the baby and raise him well. They did not want to part with their child, but the gold was more than they had ever seen, and at last they gave in.

The King carried the baby away in a box, and when he came to a deep river, he threw the box into the water, thinking, "Now I have rid my daughter of this unwanted husband." But the box did not sink. It floated like a little boat, all the way down the river until it caught against a mill-dam near the King's own city. A miller's boy found it and pulled it out with a hook, hoping for treasure — and inside, instead, was a bright, healthy baby. The miller and his wife had no children of their own, and they took the boy in gladly, saying, "God has sent him to us." They raised him with love, and he grew up strong and good.

Years later, the King was caught in a storm and took shelter at that very mill. He asked whose tall, fine son that was, and the miller told him the boy was a foundling, pulled from the river fourteen years before. The King knew at once — this was the very child he had tried to drown. So he thought of a plan. "Could the boy carry a letter to the Queen for me?" he asked. "I'll pay him well for it." The miller agreed, and the King wrote a letter that said: as soon as this boy arrives, he is to be locked away in the deepest dungeon before the King returns.

The boy set off with the letter, but he lost his way in a great forest, and as night fell he came to a small cottage where an old woman sat alone by the fire. "You poor child," she said, when he told her his errand, "you've wandered into a den of robbers. They'll be home soon, and it will go hard for you." "Let them come," said the boy, too tired to be afraid. "I can't walk another step." And he lay down on a bench and fell fast asleep.

When the robbers returned and found him there, the old woman explained he was only a lost child carrying a letter to the Queen. They opened it and read what the King had written, and even those hard men were moved to pity. Their leader tore up the cruel letter and wrote a new one in its place — saying that as soon as the boy arrived, he should be married at once to the King's daughter. They let him sleep peacefully till morning, then sent him on his way with the new letter and the right road.

When the Queen read it, she did exactly as it said, and there was a splendid wedding. The King's daughter was married to the miller's foundling son, and since he was kind and good, she was happy indeed.

When the King came home and found the marriage already done, he was furious. "This is not what I wrote!" She showed him the letter, and he saw at once that it had been changed. He questioned the young man, who answered honestly that he knew nothing of it — it must have happened while he slept in the forest.

The King, still determined to be rid of him, said, "If you want to keep my daughter, you must bring me three golden hairs from the head of the Devil himself." He was certain this would be the end of the boy. But the young man only said, "I'm not afraid of the Devil," and set off at once.

His road took him through a town where the gatekeeper asked what he knew. "I know everything," he said — and so the gatekeeper begged him to find out why their fountain, which once ran with wine, now gave not even water. "I'll bring you the answer on my way back," he promised.

In the next town, another gatekeeper asked the same question, and told him of a tree that once bore golden apples but now would not even grow leaves. "I'll bring you the answer," he said again.

Then he came to a wide river, and the ferryman there asked why he must row back and forth forever, never free. "I'll bring you the answer too," said the young man, and the ferryman carried him across.

On the far side he found the gate of hell — black and full of smoke — but the Devil was not home. Only his grandmother sat there, and though he had feared a terrible creature, she looked at him kindly enough. "I need three golden hairs from the Devil's head," he told her, "or I'll lose my wife." "That's a hard thing to ask," she said, "for if he finds you here, it will cost you your life. But I feel for you, so I'll help if I can." She turned him into an ant and tucked him safely into the folds of her skirt.

"There are also three questions I need answered," he said, small as he now was, and told her about the dry fountain, the barren tree, and the weary ferryman. "Those are hard questions too," she said, "but be still, and listen closely when I pull his hairs."

That evening the Devil came home, sniffing the air. "I smell, I smell the flesh of a man," he grumbled, searching every corner, but finding nothing. His grandmother scolded him for making a mess of her clean house, and he sat down grumbling to his supper. Afterward, tired, he laid his head in her lap and asked her to comb through his hair, and soon he began to snore.

Then she pulled out one golden hair. "Ouch!" cried the Devil. "I had a bad dream," she said, "and grabbed at your hair without thinking." "What did you dream?" he asked. "That a fountain which once ran with wine has gone dry. What could be the cause?" "Ha, if only they knew," said the Devil. "There's a toad sitting under a stone in the well. Kill it, and the wine will flow again."

She soothed him back to sleep and pulled out the second hair. He woke with a shout, but she calmed him again. "I dreamed," she said, "of a tree that once bore golden apples but now won't even grow leaves." "Ha, if only they knew," he said. "A mouse gnaws at its root. Kill it, and the tree will bear fruit again — though if it gnaws much longer, the tree will die for good. Now let me sleep, or you'll be sorry."

She waited until he was snoring deeply again, then pulled the third hair. He sprang up angrily, but she gentled him once more. "I dreamed of a ferryman," she said, "who must row back and forth forever and never be free. Why should that be?" Curious despite himself, the Devil answered, "The fool — he need only put the pole into the hand of the next person who wants to cross. Then that one must do the rowing, and he himself is free at last." And with that, he slept soundly until morning.

When the Devil had gone out, the grandmother took the ant from her skirt and turned the young man back into himself. "There are your three golden hairs," she said, "and you heard the answers besides." He thanked her with all his heart and set off for home, glad and light.

At the river, he told the ferryman what he'd learned: "Just put the pole into the hand of the next person who wants to cross." The ferryman thanked him gladly.

At the town with the withered tree, he told them to kill the mouse gnawing at its root, and the watchman gave him two donkeys loaded with gold as thanks.

At the town with the dry fountain, he told them of the toad beneath the stone, and again he was given two donkeys laden with gold.

At last he came home to his wife, who was overjoyed to see him safe. He brought the King the three golden hairs of the Devil, and when the King saw the four gold-laden donkeys besides, his eyes went wide. "Now you may keep my daughter," he said. "But where did all this gold come from?" "From the far bank of a river," the young man answered. "It lies there like sand, if you know how to reach it." "Could I fetch some myself?" asked the King, greedy at once. "Of course," said the young man. "Only find the ferryman there, and he'll carry you across."

The King hurried off to the river and called for the ferryman to take him over. And when they reached the far side, the ferryman put the pole into the King's hand and slipped quietly away — and from that day on, it was the King who had to ferry travelers back and forth, back and forth, as punishment for all he had done.

And is he ferrying still? Why, of course he is — no one has taken the pole from him yet.