The Enchanted Snake

Once there was a poor woman who longed for a child. She sighed so often that at last she cried, "Oh, Heaven, send me a child, even if it were a little snake!" Soon she had a baby—only it was a small green snake, bright-eyed and clever. She named him as if he were any other boy and loved him with all her heart.

The snake grew quickly. He could talk, and he was kind to his mother. One day he said, "Mother, it is time for me to marry. Go to the king and ask for the princess’s hand."

His mother trembled. "My child," she whispered, "how can a snake marry a king’s daughter?"

"Do not fear," he answered. "Only go and ask."

The mother went to the palace and told the king everything. The king frowned. He did not want to give his daughter to a snake, so he set an impossible task, thinking to be rid of them. "If your son can build, by tomorrow sunrise, a palace as fair as mine, standing beside it with walls that shine like the sun, then I will listen."

The mother carried the message home. The snake nodded and slid away into the night. Before dawn, there stood a magnificent palace next to the king’s own—its windows glittered, its floors gleamed, and it was filled with music and light.

The king was amazed, but he did not keep his word yet. He set a second task. "Let there be, by tomorrow, a road from your house to my door, smooth as silk and bright as gold, so the princess may walk to her wedding without soiling her shoe."

Again the snake listened. By morning, a golden road ran from the poor woman’s cottage straight to the palace gate.

The king sighed and tried one more time. "Bring me a garden where fountains sing and birds of every color nest in the trees. If your son can give me this, I cannot refuse him."

The next dawn the king looked out and gasped. Where there had been a bare yard, a garden now bloomed. Silver fountains tossed water into the air, and birds sang so sweetly that everyone who heard them smiled.

The king could no longer delay. The princess wept, but she obeyed her father, and the wedding was held. All day, people whispered, "A princess marrying a snake!" But when the doors of the new palace closed and night fell, the snake slid from his skin and stood before his bride as a handsome young man.

"Do not be afraid," he said gently. "I am under an enchantment. By day I wear a snake’s skin, but by night I am as you see me. Tell no one, and be patient."

The princess looked into his kind eyes and believed him. Each night, when they were alone, her husband laid aside his snake-skin and spoke to her as a man. In the morning, the skin lay hidden, and the world saw only a serpent.

Soon the princess’s mother, the queen, came to visit. She noticed her daughter’s new happiness and grew curious. "Tell me your secret," she coaxed.

At first the princess would not. But the queen pressed and pressed until the princess whispered, "By day he is a snake, but at night he is a man."

The queen was angry at magic she could not understand. "Burn that skin," she said. "Then he will be a man always."

When night came, the princess did as her mother had told her. She took the snake-skin and threw it into the fire. The flames curled around it with a hiss. Her husband ran in and cried, "What have you done?"

"I thought to free you," she said, frightened.

He shook his head sadly. "You have undone me before the right time. Now I must go far away where you cannot find me easily. If you love me, seek me. You will know me by this: I shall be named the Husband of Another." And as he spoke, he vanished like a breath on glass.

The princess could not rest. She put on a strong dress and soft shoes and left the palace alone. Along the road she met an old woman spinning flax.

"Where are you going, child?" asked the old woman.

"I am seeking my husband," the princess replied. "He was a snake by day and a man by night. Now he is gone."

The old woman nodded as if she had expected this. She gave the princess a pair of iron shoes and a little walnut. "You will walk far. When your need is greatest, crack this nut."

The princess walked until her iron shoes were worn thin. She came to a second old woman, who gave her a hazelnut. "Keep this for your second need."

Farther still she met a third old woman, who gave her an almond. "Keep this for your last and greatest need."

At last the princess reached a great city hung with silks and bright with lanterns. People were celebrating a wedding. She asked, "Whose wedding is this?"

"It is the wedding of the Handsome Stranger," they said, "the one everyone calls the Husband of Another."

The princess knew it was her own husband. She went to the palace where the wedding feast was held and begged the new bride’s maid, "Sell me, for this, the right to sit by the bridegroom for one hour this night." She opened the walnut. Inside lay a gown so lovely it shone like morning. The maid carried the dress to the new bride, who wanted it so much that she agreed to the bargain.

That night the princess sat by her sleeping husband and whispered, "Wake, dear heart. It is I." But the new bride, fearing to lose him, had given him a sleeping draught, and he did not open his eyes.

The next day the princess cracked the hazelnut. Out fell a gown like moonlight, with pearls like drops of dew. Again she traded it for an hour by her husband. Again she spoke, and again he slept, too deep to hear.

On the third night, the princess opened the almond. Inside was a dress like starlight, finer than any ever seen. For this, she bought the last hour. But before she went in, she whispered to the servant, "Do not let him drink anything tonight."

The servant, moved by pity, poured the draught upon the ground. The princess sat by her husband and told him all—of the burned skin, the long road, the three nuts, and her heart that would not be quiet without him.

His eyes opened. He knew her at once. He took her hands and rose. "You have found me at last," he said. "Now the spell is broken in the right way."

He led her before the king of that land. "This is my true wife," he said. The new bride hung her head and stepped aside, for everyone could see the truth. A feast was made once more, but this time it was for the husband and the wife who had sought each other so far.

They returned home with honor, and the poor mother who had once wished for any child at all wept for joy to see her son and his brave princess together. And from that day forward, no one spoke of the snake except to tell how a faithful heart wore out iron shoes and found what it had lost.