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story of the king who would be stronger than fate.
From The Brown Fairy book by Andrew Lang.
Start of Story
Age Rating 8 Plus.
Once upon a time, far away in the east country, there lived a king who
loved hunting so much that, when once there was a deer in sight, he was
careless of his own safety. Indeed, he often became quite separated from
his nobles and attendants, and in fact was particularly fond of lonely
adventures. Another of his favourite amusements was to give out that he
was not well, and could not be seen; and then, with the knowledge only
of his faithful Grand Wazeer, to disguise himself as a pedlar, load a
donkey with cheap wares, and travel about. In this way he found out
what the common people said about him, and how his judges and governors
fulfilled their duties.
One day his queen presented him with a baby daughter as beautiful as the
dawn, and the king himself was so happy and delighted that, for a
whole week, he forgot to hunt, and spent the time in public and private
Not long afterwards, however, he went out after some deer which were to
be found in a far corner of his forests. In the course of the beat his
dogs disturbed a beautiful snow-white stag, and directly he saw it the
king determined that he would have it at any cost. So he put the spurs
to his horse, and followed it as hard as he could gallop. Of course all
his attendants followed at the best speed that they could manage; but
the king was so splendidly mounted, and the stag was so swift, that,
at the end of an hour, the king found that only his favourite hound and
himself were in the chase; all the rest were far, far behind and out of
Nothing daunted, however, he went on and on, till he perceived that he
was entering a valley with great rocky mountains on all sides, and that
his horse was getting very tired and trembled at every stride. Worse
than all evening was already drawing on, and the sun would soon set.
In vain had he sent arrow after arrow at the beautiful stag. Every shot
fell short, or went wide of the mark; and at last, just as darkness
was setting in, he lost sight altogether of the beast. By this time his
horse could hardly move from fatigue, his hound staggered panting along
beside him, he was far away amongst mountains where he had never been
before, and had quite missed his way, and not a human creature or
dwelling was in sight.
All this was very discouraging, but the king would not have minded if he
had not lost that beautiful stag. That troubled him a good deal, but
he never worried over what he could not help, so he got down from his
horse, slipped his arm through the bridle, and led the animal along the
rough path in hopes of discovering some shepherd's hut, or, at least, a
cave or shelter under some rock, where he might pass the night.
Presently he heard the sound of rushing water, and made towards it. He
toiled over a steep rocky shoulder of a hill, and there, just below him,
was a stream dashing down a precipitous glen, and, almost beneath his
feet, twinkling and flickering from the level of the torrent, was a dim
light as of a lamp. Towards this light the king with his horse and hound
made his way, sliding and stumbling down a steep, stony path. At the
bottom the king found a narrow grassy ledge by the brink of the stream,
across which the light from a rude lantern in the mount of a cave shed
a broad beam of uncertain light. At the edge of the stream sat an old
hermit with a long white beard, who neither spoke nor moved as the
king approached, but sat throwing into the stream dry leaves which lay
scattered about the ground near him.
'Peace be upon you,' said the king, giving the usual country salutation.
'And upon you peace,' answered the hermit; but still he never looked up,
nor stopped what he was doing.
For a minute or two the king stood watching him. He noticed that the
hermit threw two leaves in at a time, and watched them attentively.
Sometimes both were carried rapidly down by the stream; sometimes only
one leaf was carried off, and the other, after whirling slowly round and
round on the edge of the current, would come circling back on an eddy to
the hermit's feet. At other times both leaves were held in the backward
eddy, and failed to reach the main current of the noisy stream.
'What are you doing?' asked the king at last, and the hermit replied
that he was reading the fates of men; every one's fate, he said, was
settled from the beginning, and, whatever it were, there was no escape
from it. The king laughed.
'I care little,' he said, 'what my fate may be; but I should be curious
to know the fate of my little daughter.'
'I cannot say,' answered the hermit.
'Do you not know, then?' demanded the king.
'I might know,' returned the hermit, 'but it is not always wisdom to
But the king was not content with this reply, and began to press the old
man to say what he knew, which for a long time he would not do. At last,
however, the king urged him so greatly that he said:
'The king's daughter will marry the son of a poor slave-girl called
Puruna, who belongs to the king of the land of the north. There is no
escaping from Fate.'
The king was wild with anger at hearing these words, but he was also
very tired; so he only laughed, and answered that he hoped there would
be a way out of THAT fate anyhow. Then he asked if the hermit could
shelter him and his beasts for the night, and the hermit said 'Yes';
so, very soon the king had watered and tethered his horse, and, after a
supper of bread and parched peas, lay down in the cave, with the hound
at his feet, and tried to go to sleep. But instead of sleeping he only
lay awake and thought of the hermit's prophecy; and the more he thought
of it the angrier he felt, until he gnashed his teeth and declared that
it should never, never come true.
Morning came, and the king got up, pale and sulky, and, after learning
from the hermit which path to take, was soon mounted and found his way
home without much difficulty. Directly he reached his palace he wrote a
letter to the king of the land of the north, begging him, as a favour,
to sell him his slave girl Puruna and her son, and saying that, if he
consented, he would send a messenger to receive them at the river which
divided the kingdoms.
For five days he awaited the reply, and hardly slept or ate, but was as
cross as could be all the time. On the fifth day his messenger returned
with a letter to say that the king of the land of the north would not
sell, but he would give, the king the slave girl and her son. The king
was overjoyed. He sent for his Grand Wazeer and told him that he was
going on one of his lonely expeditions, and that the Wazeer must invent
some excuse to account for his absence.