The Prince’s Wing

Once upon a time, in a land on the edge of a great forest, there were six princes who lived with their older sister, who was a queen. She had released them from a terrible spell, which had turned them into swans for three years, three days, three hours, and three minutes.

They did not remember their lives before their sister threw the nettle shirts over their heads. They remembered gliding across a moonlit lake and dipping their long necks under the water to catch minnows. They remembered fluffing their feathers to insulate themselves against the cold but they did not remember from whence they came, except they had golden crowns that proclaimed their status.

Each of these princes was more beautiful than the one before him as they retained the grace of their animal forms. They were very fair and slender and their movements were elegant. The youngest was the most beautiful, though he had one arm that was not an arm but a great, white wing. They were treated kindly by their brother-in-law and, after their tutors were done with them, he decided to marry them to the daughters of his great lords and a foreign princess. The swan now young men and desired their own households. princes were not adverse to this. They enjoyed playing with their nieces and nephews but they were now young men and desired their own households.

A great banquet was held and the guests arrived in the pink and lavender of a spring evening as flowers rioted in the garden. On such evenings, the youngest prince often dreamed of drifting on the cool, soft air, coming to a gliding landing on clear water. He did not wish to be in this stuffy hall or to marry a strange maiden, who would not wish to wed him because of his deformity. However, after the meal was ended, the king caused the maidens to come forward and pick a stone out of a leather pouch.

The first to choose was the foreign princess with the gilt hair and proud countenance. She plucked a dark, shiny stone from the pouch and the sardonyx won her the eldest prince, whose birthstone it was. Then, one by one, the lords’ daughters stepped forth and ruby, moonstone, emerald, and diamond were chosen, winning the second, third, fourth and fifth princes. All but the youngest prince were spoken for.

The final maiden stepped forth and the youngest prince’s breath caught when he saw her. She was as slim and supple as a willow and her hair was a waterfall of midnight. Her eyes were the same deep blue as the spring evening outside. Her father, whose lands were in the southern part of the kingdom and whose castle was set in a sunny glade of pines and twined ‘round with roses, was growing red in the face in his seat at the great table. When she chose, as she must, a bloodstone, he could contain his temper no longer and leapt to his feet.

“My liege,” he blustered, “I will not have my daughter married to a monster!”

“Be careful, my lord,” replied the king with the deceptive calm of kings, “you speak of our dearest brother.”

The maiden, who was this lord’s only child and accustomed to hunt with him, boldly lifted her chin and declared that, whether her father would have it so or not, she would accept the lot she had drawn. Though her father pleaded with her, she would not relent. The youngest prince said nothing and the red of shame tinged his ivory cheeks.

When the lord reluctantly gave his consent, the prince finally spoke and said that he could not, in good conscience, marry the maiden until he had completed three tasks. These tasks were to discover the true origins of himself and his brothers, rid himself of his wing, and bring her roses from the mountains of the moon. His brothers expressed outrage against the lord for hurting the youngest brother’s pride so and their sister wept. The midnight-haired maiden looked at him with proud approval.

The night before he left he dreamed not of flying, which was his wont, but of a sickly king in a land by the western sea who must surely be his father. There was a woman looming over the throne and, despite the beauty of her face, her cold visage made the young man cry out in his sleep. He woke up sweating and shaking but knew what direction he must go. He packed stealthily and slipped away in the night.

He traveled through the great woods for three days and three nights until he came to a cottage, where he sought shelter for the night from the crone who lived there.

He said, “Madam, I am a prince and would be much obliged to you for a bed to sleep in and a hot meal.”

She harrumphed and replied, “Since you are a courteous lad, I will let you stay but I will have one of your feathers in repayment.”

Before he left in the morning, she gave him a stone on a leather cord. She spun it in the light and said, “You see the flat side? Spin it and, whichever direction the flat side is pointing when it stops, that is the way you go. In three more days, you will come to the cottage of my middle sister. You may find rest there but be as courteous with her as you were with me, for her temper is not good.”

He agreed to follow her directions, bowed deeply, thanked her, and continued on his journey. As she promised, after three more days and three more nights, he came to the cottage of another crone, older and uglier than the first. For the golden ring on his finger, she gave him a night’s food and lodging. In the morning, she gave him a sharp-smelling potion that would cause all who drank of it to tell the truth and said, “You will be at the house of our oldest sister in another three days, before you will come to the house of our oldest sister who lives by the mountains of the moon, which you must pass over to get to the western sea.”

In due course he came to the house of the third sister, and she was older and fouler of visage than anyone the prince had ever seen. However, as he had with her sisters, he greeted her with courtesy and, in return for the golden crown on his head, he gained bed and board. Her gift to him was a mirror framed in gold which, she told him, would show the true face of any person who gazed into it.

She bade him to look and he obeyed. He saw himself in the mirror but he had a man’s arm and shoulder, not a great swan’s wing. As for the third crone, her reflection had smooth skin and hair the vivid color of cedar, not wrinkles and white hair. He wrapped the mirror carefully and made his way over the mountains.

The land by the western sea was barren and bore the stench of dark magic but the few starved-looking peasants pointed his way to the castle. He hid his wing under a cloak and posed as a traveling minstrel who would gladly sing for his supper. When the queen asked him why he did not remove his cloak, he replied that he had caught a chill coming over the mountains and his shirt was tattered as robbers had stolen his lute and his good clothes. The queen was satisfied with this as she was well-pleased with his beauty and the quality of his speaking voice boded well for his singing.

Though he could not remember his father, seeing him so grey and silent gave the prince courage enough to slip a couple of drops of the second sister’s potion into the queen’s glass. He let the serum take effect as he sang about flowers and young love and other pleasant matters. His velvety baritone entranced the queen. Then, once he was certain, he sang about a queen with six step-sons.

He looked right at her when he sang the chorus, which was the question, “Where are the princes, o queen?”

She could do nothing but reply in truth, “I turned them into swans.”

The court gasped, though the king stirred not. The prince drew the mirror from the folds of his cloak and held it up to the queen. The beautiful woman’s reflection was that of an ugly, old, and scarred hag. She screeched and leapt at him but she was not loved in the land and the court and guards held her fast.

The prince asked her how he could lose his wing and, try as she might, she could do nothing but tell him the truth. She hissed, “Only the tears of a true love will cure you.” Then she was taken outside and immediately burnt as a witch.

At her death, the king seemed to regain himself and the color returned to his face. He recognized his son. The prince, too, regained his memory, though he still had his wing, and remembered being a small child tossed in the air by his father and being held by him when his mother died. They embraced but, although his father begged him to stay, he said he must tell his brothers and sister, who he assured his father were well, and return to the maiden he was promised to and he still must find a rose from the mountains of the moon.

He searched for many days in the mountains and was cold and hungry when he found a garden of red roses lying like blood in the snow. They were guarded by a terrible ogre.

The ogre roared, “Who goes there?”

“I am a prince and would like just one rose for my beloved,” he replied.

“For a price,” the ogre said, “I’ll have your wing.”

Though the ogre’s axe was terrible to behold, the prince laid his wing on a great slab of rock and closed his eyes. As his blood flowed on the snow, it turned into more roses, one of which the ogre handed him. Weak from the loss of blood, he made his way only to the third sister’s house and she was no longer old and ugly but as beautiful as the reflection in her mirror, for she and her sisters had been lovely young maidens who the jealous queen had enchanted. She tended him until he could resume his travels.

The prince was nearing home under a full, golden summer moon and had stopped near a clear stream when he heard hooves and saw the black-haired maiden on a white horse.

“I dreamed you were coming,” she said, “and the queen told me you had broken the spell, for she and your brothers have regained their memories. Have you the rose?”

He replied that he did and, when he moved, she saw his missing wing but no arm. He handed her the roses and told him of all that had happened. They embraced and her tears wet the stump of his wing and, quicker than moonshine, a new arm grew.

There was much rejoicing when they returned to the castle and they were married. Though he was the youngest, his brothers agreed that the kingdom by the western sea was rightfully his and the youngest prince and the dark-haired maiden lived there many happy years with the princes’ father and ruled it justly after his death. The flowers bloomed there again and they say it was the most lovely and happy kingdom between the mountains and the sea.