There was once a fisherman who had no sons. One day, an old woman came by, saw the fisherman’s wife, and said to her, “What can your goods profit you, if you have no sons?”
“It is God’s will, good dame!” answered the fisherman’s wife.
“It is not God’s will, my child,” the old woman told her, “it is your husband’s, for if he caught the golden fish, you would have sons. When he comes home this evening, you must tell your husband to go and catch it, if you wish to have sons. And you must cut it into six pieces: you yourself eat one piece and let your husband eat one, and you’ll have two sons; let the bitch-dog eat one piece, and she’ll bear two puppies; let the mare eat one piece, and she’ll bear two foals; put one on the threshold of one leaf of the door and one on the other, and two cypress trees will grow.”
That evening when her husband came home she told him all that had happened, and he went and caught the fish, and they did with it as the old woman had bidden. In time they had two sons, so like each other there was no telling them apart. The dog bore two puppies very like each other, and the mare two foals very alike, and at the threshold grew two cypress trees. When they grew up, the lads did not want to stay at home however great the comfort, but they wanted to go and win a name for themselves. Their father would not let them go, for they were all he had; so he said for the one to go first, and when he came back the other could go.
So one of the twins took one of the twin horses and one of the twin dogs, and set off, saying to his brother, “For as long as the two cypress trees are green, think of me as living, but if one withers, set out to look for me.”
He went on and on, a long way from home, and at last drew up at an old woman’s house. That evening he said to the old woman, “Whose is the house above this one?”
And the old woman told him, “That is the palace of the Beauty of the Country.”
“I have come,” the lad told her, “to win her.”
“Many have come to win her, my son, and no one has been able to do so,” the old woman told him, “and they have had their heads cut off and put on iron spikes, as you can plainly see.”
Then said the lad to her, “I shall go and tell her I’ve come to win her, even though my head be cut off.”
Now the lad could play the lute, and very well, too. He played it that evening and the Beauty of the Country heard him.
Next day, the Beauty of the Country said to the old woman, “Old woman, who is it you have in your house that plays the lute so well?”
“A young man is here from foreign parts,” said the old woman, “and it was he.”
“Tell him I wish to meet him.”
So the lad went to the Beauty of the Country, and she asked him what country he was from and told him that she was very taken with his playing of the lute and would like to marry him.
“That,” said the lad, “is what I, too, have come for.”
“Go and tell my father,” she told him, “that you want me for your wife, and come and tell me what he says to you.”
The lad went to the King and told him that he wanted his daughter for his wife. And the King told him, “If you are worthy, do what I tell you and do it well, otherwise, I’ll have your head. There’s a tree stump in my field so big that two ropes cannot go round it; if you can fell it with one blow of your sword, I’ll give you my daughter to wed; if not, I’ll have your head.”
The boy got up and went to the old woman’s house in sorrow, for the next day he might have his head cut off. That evening he did not play the lute, as he was wont to play every evening, but sat thinking how he would fell the tree stump that was so big.
When the Beauty did not hear the lute, she cried to him, “Why don’t you play the lute this evening, but instead sit there thinking?”
So the boy told her what her father had said.
“Is that what troubles you? Play a brisk tune on your lute to cheer us, and tomorrow morning come to me here.”
The lad played the lute all evening and they made merry; next morning, at daybreak, the Beauty gave him a hair from her head and told him to tie it round his sword and he would fell the tree stump.
The lad went to where the tree stump was and felled it with one stroke of his sword.
But her father said to him, “I have yet another task for you to do and I will give you my daughter to wed when you’ve done it. Mount a horse and travel the road for three hours, carrying in your hand two pots full of water; if not a drop is spilled, I’ll give you my daughter to wed. If not, I’ll have your head.”
Again the lad went in sorrow to the old woman’s house and did not play the lute. Again the Beauty called him, and said, “Why aren’t you playing the lute?”
Then he told her what her father had said. And she said to him, “Never grieve over that, but play the lute, and tomorrow morning come to me here.”
The next morning, the Beauty gave him her ring and told him to put it in the water and the water would freeze and not spill. Then the lad did as she had bidden, and the water did not spill.
And as it had not spilled, her father said to him, “I have one word yet to say to you, and then no more. I have a blackamoor; tomorrow you will fight him, and if you win you may take my daughter.”
Then the lad went joyfully to the old woman’s house and made merry. The Beauty called him, and said, “You seem happy tonight. What did my father tell you to make you happy?”
And the lad said to her, “He told me to fight tomorrow with a blackamoor, and I hope to win, for, as he is a man, a man, too, am I.”
“That is the worst of all,” the Beauty told him, “for I am the blackamoor; they give me a drink and I turn into a blackamoor.
Tomorrow, you must go to the market and buy twelve buffalo skins to put on your horse; take this kerchief and when I attack you, show it to me, so that I may remember and not kill you. Also, you must try to strike my horse between the brows, for in killing my horse, you may conquer me.”
The lad went to the market and bought the buffalo skins and put them on his horse, and he and the blackamoor came out to fight. When they had fought, and eleven of the skins had been pierced through, the blackamoor made ready to kill the lad, but the lad struck the blackamoor’s horse on the brow, and the horse falling lifeless, the blackamoor was beaten and the lad won.
And her father told him, “Now you have done that too, I will make you my son-in-law.”
Said the lad to him, “I have a certain duty that I must now do, but in forty days, I will come and fetch her.”
The lad set out for another country, and he went on till he came to another old woman’s house. That evening, when they had eaten their bread, the lad asked this old woman for water.
“I have none,” the old woman told him. “Only once a year do we get water here, for it is kept by a stoecheio [spirit]. Every year, we give him a maiden to devour, and he lets us have water. And now the lot has fallen to the King’s daughter and she will be taken to the stoecheio tomorrow.”
The next day, they brought the King’s daughter for the stoecheio to devour, and tied her up nearby with a golden chain and went off and left her there alone. When they had all gone, the lad went up to the Princess and found her in tears.
He asked her, “Why are you weeping?”
The Princess told him that the stoecheio would come out and devour her, and that was why she wept. So the lad told her he would save her.
When the stoecheio came out, the lad gave an order to his dog, and it choked the stoecheio, and so the Princess was saved. And when the King heard this, he decided to give the lad his daughter’s hand in marriage, and so they were wed.
When he had been there a week, the lad grew restless and wanted to go out hunting. The King did not want him to go, but could not restrain him, so he told him to take servants with him, but he would not and took only his horse and his dog. When he had gone a long way, he grew thirsty and, seeing a hut some way off, went to seek for water. In the hut was yet another old woman, whom he asked to give him a little water to drink, but the old woman told him to let her first strike his dog with her wand and then she would give him water. He told her to strike, but when she struck the dog, it was turned into marble; she struck him, too, and turned him into marble, and then she turned his horse into marble as well.
When she turned the lad into marble, the cypress tree withered at home. And the other brother set out to find him. He went past the place where his brother had killed the stoecheio and it happened that he put up at the first old woman’s house where his brother had put up.
And when the old woman saw him she said, “Forgive me, my son, for not coming to wish you well at your wedding with the King’s daughter.” The old woman thought he was the other brother, they were so much alike. “Never mind that,” he told her. And he straightway set off and went to the King’s palace.
When the King saw him, he took him for his son-in-law. “What became of you?” he asked him. “We thought something had happened to you, you were gone so long.”
He gave him many excuses why he had been away so long, and the next day went out hunting in his turn, and happened to take the same road as his brother had taken. While some distance off, he saw his brother standing there in marble, with his horse and dog, and recognized him.
He went to the hut and told the old woman to unmarble his brother.
The old woman said to him, “Let me strike the dog with my wand and then I’ll unmarble your brother.”
The lad said to the dog, “Gobble the old woman up!”
And the old woman said to him, “Tell your dog not to eat me, so that I can unmarble your brother.”
“Tell me how to do it,” the lad said, “and I’ll tell my dog not to gobble you up.”
And when she would not, he gave his dog an order and it gobbled her up to the waist.
Then the old woman said to him, “I have two wands, one green, one red. With the green one, I turn things to marble; with the red, I unmarble them.”
Then he took the red wand and unmarbled his brother and his dog and horse. He told his dog to gobble up the old woman entirely.
When he had saved his brother, he went back to the Beauty of the Country, and she received him, thinking he was his brother who had beaten her in the fight, and he married her. The other went back to the palace where he had his wife, the Princess he had saved from the stoecheio.
They sent word to their parents to come there, too, and they all lived together.