Circle round, and I’ll tell you a story for the Solstice…
Once there lived a queen who had twelve fine, strong sons, but no daughters. One
day as she sat spinning in her chamber, she happened to look out the window, and
there below on the fresh snow, she saw a hunter killing a deer. The deer’s red
blood dropped down onto the white snow, and black ravens gathered around, hoping
for a feast.
“Oh,” the queen said to herself, “if only I had a daughter with skin as white as
that snow, hair as black as the raven’s wings, and lips as red as those ruby
drops of blood, I’d give all my twelve fine sons for her.”
Instantly an old woman appeared. “That was an ill wish that you wished,” she
said, “but it shall be granted. You will have a daughter, with skin as white as
snow, hair black as the raven’s wing, and lips as red as ruby drops of blood.
But at the moment she is born, you will lose your twelve fine sons.”
“Wait,” the queen cried, “I didn’t mean it!”
But the old woman was gone.
In great distress, the queen went to her husband, the king, and told him all
that had happened. “Don’t worry my dear,” the king said, “We will make a plan
together. But now you must rest and take good care of yourself.”
For the queen was indeed pregnant. Nine months passed, and when the time drew
near for her to give birth, the king called all his twelve sons together and
shut them up in the deepest dungeon of his castle, where nothing could get at
them or harm them. Twelve staunch guards stood at the door. The princes had
plenty of good food and warm blankets to comfort them, and one tiny, high window
to let in light and air.
The queen gave birth to a beautiful baby daughter, with pale, pale skin and
black, black hair and ruby red lips. But the very moment when the child’s first
cry was heard, her twelve brothers changed into twelve wild swans. With a rush
of wings, they flew out of the tiny window and disappeared from the kingdom.
As joyful as the queen and king were at the birth of their daughter, they were
even more grieved by the loss of their twelve fine sons. They made a vow that
they would never tell their daughter about her brothers. Rose, as they named the
child, would be raised in happiness and joy, not burdened by regrets and grief.
Rose grew to be a lovely young maiden. She was not only beautiful, but kind and
good-tempered, so that everyone who knew her loved her. She had all the toys and
lessons and beautiful clothes and good things to eat that any princess could
want. And yet, deep in her heart, Rose always felt a strange sense of sadness,
as if she was missing someone or something she couldn’t name. Sometimes when she
went to play with the children of the village, she would hear them whispering
behind her back, or catch them falling suddenly silent when she appeared.
One of the village children was a very bad-tempered little girl whom everyone
called Nasty Nancy. One day Rose and Nasty Nancy had a race to see who could run
down the village street and back the fastest, and Rose won. Nasty Nancy was so
mad that she stuck out her tongue at Rose and said, “Nah, nah, nah – you think
you’re so great, well, all your brothers are swans! And it’s all your fault!”
Then she ran away, before Rose could ask her any questions, and so did the other
children, for they were afraid they’d get into trouble. They had been warned
never to say anything to Rose about her brothers.
Crying, Rose ran to the queen. “Tell me about my brothers!” she insisted, “Where
are they? Why didn’t you tell me before?”
Sighing, the Queen told her the whole story. “We didn’t want you to grow up sad,
missing brothers you never knew.”
“I understand,” Rose said, “But now that I know, it seems to me that I must go
and find my brothers. Since it was because of me they were changed into swans, I
should be the one to save them.”
The queen and king begged her not to go. “You are all we have left,” they
sobbed, “If you are lost, we will have no child at all to comfort us in our old
age.”
But Rose knew she had to go.
Later that night, she slipped out of the back gate of the castle, taking only a
small loaf of bread with her. She headed in to the deep woods and began to walk.
She walked and walked and walked. She didn’t know where she was going or where
to look for her brothers. “I’ll just have to begin where I am,” she told
herself. “If I don’t know where to go, I’ll go where my feet take me.”
She walked through most of the night, until she began to get very tired. “I’ll
sit and rest for a moment,” she thought, “and eat a bit of my bread.” Beside the
path was a big stone, and she sat down on it and prepared to eat her meager
meal. At that very moment, an old woman appeared.
“I’m so hungry, dearie,” the old woman said. “Won’t you give me a bit of your
bread?”
“This bread is all I have,” Rose said, “but I will gladly share it with you.”
She stood up, spread her shawl to make the old woman a comfortable seat, and
tore off a generous half of her loaf.
“Thank you, dearie,” the old woman said, “You’ve done a good turn for me, and
maybe I can do one for you.”
“I don’t think so,” Rose said, “Not unless you know where I can find my
brothers. I have twelve brothers, but they’ve fallen under an enchantment that
has turned them into twelve wild swans.”
“Swans!” the old woman said, “Now that you mention it, I believe I’ve heard of
some swans being seen far, far away from here, down by the shore of the sea.”
“Really!” Rose cried, all her weariness forgotten. “How can I find the sea,
Grandmother?”
“Follow the river to its end,” the old woman said.
“Thank you, thank you, Grandmother!” Rose cried.
She headed off, following a small stream until it joined a great river. She
walked and walked and walked, day after day, night after night, following the
banks of the river, clambering over big boulders and pushing through scratchy
bramble bushes. At last the river spilled itself out into a wide, sandy
shoreline and emptied into the great ocean. Exhausted, Rose stood on the shore,
watching as the sun began to sink beneath the waves. Suddenly, out of the
pink-streaked sky, twelve wild swans came flying, circling the shore and then
landing on the sand. As the last ray of sun disappeared, they changed into
twelve fine young men.
“My brothers!” Rose cried out in joy, “My brothers! I am your little sister,
Rose, and I have come to break the spell and free you, if I can!”
The twelve young men look at Rose and began to rush forward in delight to meet
her. Suddenly they stopped, and looks of horror appeared on their faces.
“What’s wrong?” Rose asked, “My brothers, won’t you greet me?”
“Oh, evil luck, to meet like this!” said the oldest brother, “Our poor, dear
sister! If only we had known! For we have sworn a vow. Since it was because of a
woman that we were changed into swans, we vowed to kill the first woman we met.
And that is you.”
Rose stood frozen, too shocked to speak or move. At that moment an old woman
appeared. She looked at the twelve brothers and shook her head sadly.
“Break your wicked vow that never should have been made,” she told them, “This
is your sister, Rose. You must cherish her, for only through her can you be
freed.” Then she disappeared.
The twelve brothers rushed forward happily and embraced Rose. “How lucky we
are,” the oldest brother said, “that you came to this shoreline today. All year
long we live in an enchanted land far, far over the sea. We are swans by day and
men by night, and only once a year, at the time of the Summer Solstice, can we
return to the land of our birth. The way is so long that we need all the hours
of the longest days of the year to make the journey. For if night were to catch
us on the way, we would be changed back into men and fall into the sea and
drown.”
“If only I could come with you to that land!” Rose said, “I know that there, in
the land of magic, I could find the way to free you.”
“We will take you there,” her brothers promised. They gathered reeds from the
riverside and wove a giant basket from them, with ropes woven of cattails tied
on the rim. Then they slept though the short hours of darkness.
In the morning, just as the pearly dawn was lit by the first rays of the sun,
the twelve brothers changed into twelve wild swans. Rose climbed into the
basket, and each brother took one of the ropes in his beak and flew off,
carrying her along with them. The youngest brother flew above to shade her from
the sun.
They flew and they flew and they flew, all through the longest day of the year,
and just as the golden sun was sinking in red fire beneath the waves, they came
to an island. With a rush of wings they landed, setting Rose gently down in her
basket, and not a moment too soon. For just as their feet touched the rock of
the island, the sun disappeared and the twelve wild swans changed back into
twelve young men.
The island was very small, just a few black rocks rising out of the sea. They
barely enough room to stand on it, even all huddled together as close as they
could, but there was no room to lie down. So they slept standing up, while all
through the short hours of darkness the seas stormed and crashed around them.
When dawn came, the twelve brothers changed back into twelve wild swans. Again
Rose climbed into the basket, and her brothers picked up the ropes in their
beaks and flew off.
Again they flew and flew, all through the longest day. As the sun began to dip
toward the far horizon, Rose could see a golden gleam among the billowing
clouds. As they drew closer, she could make out the shape of a tall palace, with
pillars of gold and windows of crystal.
“What is that beautiful palace?” she asked.
“That is the home of the Dark Faery, the Fata Morgana,” answered the youngest
brother, “She is an enchantress of great power and wisdom. But no human being
can enter her castle.”
“Perhaps I can find a way in,” Rose said, “I feel sure that she could help me
find the way to free you.”
At last they landed on the shore of the magical land across the sea, just as the
last rays of sunlight disappeared. The twelve wild swans transformed into Rose’s
twelve brothers, and together they climbed up the path from the shore to the
cave, where they lived on the side of the mountains. They were all very tired,
and after a simple supper of berries and nuts, they slept.
Rose slept deeply, and as she slept she dreamed that she was standing on a
silver shore at the foot of the golden palace of the Fata Morgana. In her dream,
she climbed up a narrow path and found a high golden door that stood open for
her to enter. Gathering her courage, she entered the high hall of the Fata
Morgana. The walls gleamed with gold, lit by the cool rays of the sun that
penetrated through windows of crystal and precious stones.
She walked slowly into the palace, her heart beating. At the far end of the
hallway, she could see the form of a woman, waiting for her. Rose walked on
until she could see that the woman was dressed in swirling dark robes, rich with
colors of indigo and purple and the velvety black of the night sky. Her eyes
were dark and gleaming, and her face was neither old nor young, neither dark nor
light, but somehow seemed to be all things at once.
“Who are you?” asked the Fata Morgana – for it was she, “Why have you come to my
palace, where no human can enter except in dreams?”
“I am Rose, if you please, ma’am,” she said, “And I have come to ask for help. I
want to free my brothers, who are under an enchantment since my birth. They are
swans by day and men by night. Because of me they were changed into swans.
Somehow I must free them.”
The Fata Morgana looked at Rose for a long, long time. Rose forced herself to
stand still and breathe deeply, even though she felt that the Dark Faery could
see straight through her and knew all of her secrets and faults. At last the
Fata Morgana spoke.
“I know your story,” she said to Rose, “and I know the fate of your brothers. It
is not because of you that they were changed into swans, but because of your
mother’s careless words. Nevertheless, you can free them – if you have the
courage, for the task will not be easy. Are you willing?”
“Yes, I am,” Rose said, “I will do anything to free my brothers.”
“Around the cave where your brothers sleep, stinging nettles grow,” said the
Dark Faery, “You must pluck the nettles with your bare hands, and crush them
with your bare feet, and spin them into thread. If you use up the nettles by the
cave, then must gather nettles that grow in a graveyard. From the thread you
must weave cloth, and from the cloth you must cut and sew twelve shirts, one for
each of your brothers. And the whole time that you do this work, even though it
will take you years and years, you must not speak or laugh or cry out loud. Now,
do you still want to free your brothers?”
“I do,” Rose said, “I will.”
Suddenly, she found herself back in the cave, waking up with the first light of
morning. Without speaking a word to her brothers, she left the cave and began
plucking nettles with her bare hands. The nettles stung, and her eyes filled
with tears, but she spoke not a word. When she had gathered a big pile, she took
off her shoes and began to crush them with her feet, and by the time they were
all reduced to fiber and pulp, her poor feet were red and smarting. But she sat
down and began to spin the fiber into thread.
Days and weeks passed. Every day Rose picked nettles and crushed them and spun,
and when she had gathered enough thread, she began to weave. She spoke not a
word, and her brothers understood that she was engaged in a task of magic. They
fed her and sheltered her and treated her kindly, and in spite of the pain she
suffered in plucking and crushing the nettles, Rose was very happy to be in
their company. But she never laughed nor cried.
Months passed, and years passed, and Rose grew into a beautiful young woman. One
day as she was sitting outside the cave, spinning and weaving, a handsome young
man on a black horse rode by, pursuing a deer. He stopped when he saw Rose, and
bowed politely to her. She smiled at him, and he spoke kindly to her, but she
did not answer, only pointed to her mouth and shook her head to show that she
could not speak.
“I am the king of this land,” the young man said, “Every day I am surrounded by
people who want this and that from me, who badger me with questions and
petitions and ask for judgments. I find your silence very peaceful. May I simply
sit with you and be in your presence as you work?”
Rose nodded, and after that the king came every day to sit with her. Her found
so much pleasure in her company that after a time, he asked her to marry him.
Rose had grown to love him very dearly, and so she nodded yes. The king helped
her gather her nettles and weaving and the shirts she had finished so far, and
they rode off together with twelve wild swans following behind.
They were married in his castle, and he built a special room for her, with the
walls all painted nettle green, where she could continue her work weaving and
sewing the shirts. He felt very peaceful in her company, and somehow when he
talked over a problem with her, although she spoke not a word, he could read her
thoughts on her face, and often came by himself to a wise decision. So he gave
fair judgments and governed over his kingdom well, and everyone was happy,
except for the king’s younger brother and his wife.
For the king’s brother feared that if Rose and the king had a child, he would no
longer hold power in the kingdom. And the king’s sister-in-law had always hoped
that her own children would inherit the kingdom eventually. So they conspired
together to get rid of Rose, but in the meantime they pretended to befriend her.
After a time, Rose ran out of nettles. She remembered the words of the Fata
Morgana, so that night she slipped out of the castle and across the road, and
entered the graveyard. The night was dark, and she was very frightened, for the
graveyard was full of lamia, who had the heads of women and the bodies of
snakes. She could hear them hissing all around her, and as she bent down to pick
the nettles she could feel their dry, scaly bodies slither beside her. But she
took a deep breath and thought about her brothers, and gathered a huge supply of
the nettles, which she brought back to her special room.
Rose didn’t know it, but all the while her sister-in-law was spying on her. She
watched Rose go out the gate and peered into the graveyard. The next morning she
ran to the king.
“Brother dear,” she said, “I grieve to tell you this, but that woman you married
is an evil Witch! At night she goes into the graveyard and consorts with lamia.
I’ve seen her myself!”
“I don’t believe you,” said the king, “My wife is a good woman, and I love her
dearly. Even if she did go into a graveyard, I know she must have a good reason.
Perhaps she was bringing an offering to the dead. Don’t bother me anymore with
nasty gossip.”
So the sister-in-law was thwarted, but she and her husband bided their time.
A year passed, and Rose gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. All through the
pangs of her labor she never once cried aloud, and though she was thrilled with
joy to see her baby daughter, she did not laugh. When the child was sleeping,
she continued to work on the shirts.
That night, the sister-in-law came to the room where Rose and the baby were
sleeping, watched by all the women of the court.
“Let us celebrate this joyful occasion with wine,” she said, and they did. But
she had put a sleeping potion into the wine, and all the women of the court fell
sound asleep. Then the sister-in-law took the baby from Rose’s side and threw
her out the window. A wolf, passing below, grabbed the baby in her jaws and
carried her out to the woods. The sister-in-law killed a litter of newborn
puppies, and smeared the blood around Rose’s mouth and on her hands.
When morning came, the watching women awoke in horror to find that they had
slept and the baby was gone. “What shall we do? What shall we do?” they cried,
“The king will never forgive us!” So they concocted a tale, and when the king
came to see his daughter, they cried out tearfully that Rose had gone made and
devoured her child, although they had fought with all their strength to stop
her.
“You see,” the sister-in-law said, “she is evil, just as I told you. You must
get rid of her.”
“But the king shook his head. “She is my wife, and I love her dearly,” he said,
“I do not believe your story. Something else must have happened, although I do
not know what. But my wife is a good woman, and I cannot believe she would harm
her child.”
Rose was terribly sad at the loss of her baby. Still, she did not cry out loud,
but continued her work on her shirts. The king consoled her, and she consoled
him.
Another year passed, and again Rose gave birth, this time to a beautiful baby
boy. Once again the sister-in-law gave a sleeping potion to the ladies of the
court, took the baby from Rose’s side, and threw it out the window. Again the
wolf caught the child in her jaws and carried it out to the woods, while the
sister-in-law smeared Rose’s face and hands with puppies’ blood. But this time
the king could not defend his wife. Try as he would to convince his court and
his advisors tha she was a good person, his own brother led the people in
condemning her.
They took Rose and threw her into the deepest dungeon below the castle, and they
took all her shirts and thread and weaving and threw them in after her. “Here,
Witch!” they cried, “Take your filthy spells!”
All the while, Rose still did not speak to save herself. By this time she was
almost finished with her task. She was working on the twelfth shirt. Deep in the
dungeon, she continued to spin and weave and sew. When morning came and the
guards arrived to take her away to her execution, she was still busily working.
They bound her into a cart, but her hands were free, and as they wheeled her
through the streets she hardly noticed the jeering crowds of people, because she
was still working so hard on the last shirt. Even when they took her to the
stake, she spared no thought for fear, but continued her work.
The king was weeping and could not bear to light the pyre, but his brother took
the torch and walked toward Rose. At last she looked up from her work, to see
the torch thrust into the wood at her feet. The wood caught fire, and the flames
began to rise around her.
Suddenly, from the sky, twelve wild swans appeared, wheeling in a great circle
around the stake where Rose was bound. She took the shirts and tossed them, one
by one, onto the backs of her brothers, and as they landed, the twelve wild
swans transformed into twelve fine, strong men.
“I am innocent,” Rose cried, and dropped dead. The flames around her changed
into roses.
The king cried out and ran to her, cutting her down from the stake and holding
her in his arms. Her eyelids fluttered, and she took a deep breath. She wasn’t
dead after all – she had only fainted!
A great roar burst from the crowd. Suddenly, an old woman appeared, holding a
newborn child in her arms. A year-old girl toddled by her side.
“Here are your lost children,” she said to Rose, “Guard them and cherish them
well, for now they are restored to you.”
With great joy, the king and Rose embraced their children. The crowd cheered,
and everyone was happy, except for the king’s brother and his wife, who were so
mad that they burst and were never heard from again.
Then Rose’s brothers walked up and greeted her with great happiness. “You have
freed us,” they said, “With your courage and perseverance, you have broken the
spell that bound us. Now we can all be together.”
One by one she kissed them. But Rose had not quite finished the very last sleeve
of the last shirt. And so when her youngest brother came forward to embrace her,
he reached for her with one human arm and one swan’s wing.
