Heinel found himself at the gates in a moment; but the guards would
not let him go in, because he was so strangely clad. So he went up to a
neighbouring hill, where a shepherd dwelt, and borrowed his old frock,
and thus passed unknown into the town. When he came to his father’s
house, he said he was his son; but the merchant would not believe him,
and said he had had but one son, his poor Heinel, who he knew was long
since dead: and as he was only dressed like a poor shepherd, he would
not even give him anything to eat. The king, however, still vowed that
he was his son, and said, ‘Is there no mark by which you would know me
if I am really your son?’ ‘Yes,’ said his mother, ‘our Heinel had a mark
like a raspberry on his right arm.’ Then he showed them the mark, and
they knew that what he had said was true.
He next told them how he was king of the Golden Mountain, and was
married to a princess, and had a son seven years old. But the merchant
said, ‘that can never be true; he must be a fine king truly who travels
about in a shepherd’s frock!’ At this the son was vexed; and forgetting
his word, turned his ring, and wished for his queen and son. In an
instant they stood before him; but the queen wept, and said he had
broken his word, and bad luck would follow. He did all he could to
soothe her, and she at last seemed to be appeased; but she was not so in
truth, and was only thinking how she should punish him.
One day he took her to walk with him out of the town, and showed her
the spot where the boat was set adrift upon the wide waters. Then he sat
himself down, and said, ‘I am very much tired; sit by me, I will rest my
head in your lap, and sleep a while.’ As soon as he had fallen asleep,
however, she drew the ring from his finger, and crept softly away, and
wished herself and her son at home in their kingdom. And when he awoke
he found himself alone, and saw that the ring was gone from his finger.
‘I can never go back to my father’s house,’ said he; ‘they would say I
am a sorcerer: I will journey forth into the world, till I come again to
my kingdom.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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