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You’ve heard this, but not like this…

A fairytale rendering…

Photo by Birmingham Museums Trust on Unsplash

Once upon a time in a desert village far, far away, there lived a mad old crone. Every day she sat in the fork of her shrivelled up tree and cackled at the children who passed by her feet on their way to and from school. The children hated to go past the old crone’s tree. Some of them were scared of her and some of them were angry. The frightened ones did one of two things; either they threw a rock at her and tried to stop her cackling at them or they ran, crying to their teachers or their mothers or their fathers which, in turn, brought the wrath of the adults to visit upon the old crone. But the old crone didn’t care. She laughed away at the adults as much as the children, throwing the rocks that’d been thrown to her back at their heads until they ducked and weaved and left her alone until the next time. The children who raged at the old crone were different. They were scared underneath it was true, but their fear took an uglier turn. They would try to bait the old woman to come down from her tree, or they would laugh at her or throw stones at her, or try to set fire to her tree and force her to come down. The old woman though, had a few tricks of her own.

Near to where the old woman lived, there was another woman but this one was young, beautiful, and possessed of a gentle quality which made her the source of light in the lives of those she came into contact with. Now this young woman had a dog, a beautiful large dog with long golden tresses and soft velvety black eyes who lay at his mistress’s feet day after day and ambled along beside her, gazing up at her as they walked. The thing was, the young woman had become friends with the old crone. Not one to judge, she had seen the interactions between the children and the old woman and these interplays of fear and rage had struck something in her such that she had sought out the old woman over many weeks and months, softening the crone until the old woman had taken the younger woman into her confidence. In turn, the younger woman had learnt something of the devious ways of the world and had her eyes opened to the foibles of both men and women. These lessons were to stand her in good stead for the events which were to overtake them on fine frosty morning as a weak sun rose above the trees.

For that was the morning a Prince rode by. He was mounted on a great chocolate coloured steed and decked out in bright and colourful clothes so that he seemed a bright flower amidst the dark thick green forest. The old woman spied him coming from the top of her spindly tree and cackled to herself. The cackling grew louder and louder until the Prince, seated on his horse, drew the steed to a halt, beholding the terrible sound and wondering at it. At first he thought wolves were on the prowl and then, recalling wolves no longer lived in this district, he thought at once of bears but no bear he knew made a sound like the sawing of wood high above. He looked up to espy the old woman, her toothless gums wide with laughter although her eyes were steely as she stared at him.

‘What is your business here?’ She said.

The Prince stroked the side of his horse’s neck, to calm himself as much as his horse and spoke with all the gentlemanly manners he could muster.

‘Pray, wise woman, I am on a mission to find the young woman who dwells in these parts for I have heard tale of her beauty and I am in need of a companion and a woman of wit and wisdom to rule the land with me.’

‘She won’t want anything to do with you. She’s perfectly fine with her dog and me.’

‘Perhaps I should be allowed to discuss this with the young lady herself.’

‘Is that me you mean?’

The golden woman walked out of the woods and the Prince thought how special his life that he had lived long enough to witness such beauty. At her feet stood a dog but then the dog growled. The Prince took a step back as the young woman frowned.

‘He doesn’t like you,’ cackled the old woman.

The young woman meanwhile, stroked the top of the dog’s head while she considered the Prince. He was mighty and fresh and he was dressed in ornate robes and he seemed earnest enough but the young woman had learnt from the crone, not to trust outer finery but to see through the casings of the superficial and to try to determine the worth of the character within. She had no way of determining this except for one.

‘You are here on a mission,’ her voice tinkled at which the Prince’s legs turned to jelly. He was even more determined to wed this young woman and put her by his side so the people of his kingdom should marvel at the beauty of their regents.

‘I am,’ he bowed, a bow of such grace that the young woman almost swooned. Carefully, she spoke her next words, but before they were uttered, the crone spoke for her.

‘How does she know she can trust you?’

The Prince opened and closed his mouth at which the old crone cackled again.

‘You must believe me.’

‘That’s what they all say,’ said the crone, winking at the young woman who frowned again. She was deliberating the worth of this young man but still he came up short. Again, before she could utter a word, the old crone spoke.

‘You should give him a test.’

‘A test?’ The Prince took a step back as if struck. He opened his mouth to speak against the affront of peasants deigning to test the royal worth but then, he reminded himself he was on a different path to his forebears and so he foreswore the words he might have said and instead, nodded. ‘Go on.’

This answer warmed the young woman’s heart as nothing had yet in their first appearance and conversation. The dog stopped growling and turned her luxurious eyes upon the young woman.

‘Yes,’ said the crone. ‘Release me from this tree.’

The Prince almost laughed. The puzzle seemed too easy to be a test but then he considered for a moment. The old woman was crafty, of that he had no doubt, and so the test would not be as easy as she would make out. Most likely the tree was cast in a spell and should he touch the trunk, he would be cursed with a rash, or worse. If he were to touch the woman’s legs, dangling so temptingly from the lowest branch, surely he would be struck with a bolt from the sky above. He glanced at the young woman whose steady eyes considered him.

In turn, the young woman was pleased so far with the Prince. He had not jumped at once to prove himself worthy, but rather, had taken the challenge. He was thoughtful in it too, a character trait that enamoured her to him more than any other.

‘Come on,’ cackled the old crone. ‘Do your worst.’

Suddenly, the Prince sprang forward but his target was not the old woman baiting him, but the young woman. He was so quick, he had lifted her in his arms before even the dog should move, and was running towards his steed and would have reached his mare in a few strides had not the old woman sprung from the tree and launched herself at him and caught him around the ankles so the three toppled together in a single tangled mass.

‘How dare you?’ screeched the old woman. ‘I told you the test and you decide to take what is not yours while I was waiting.’

The old woman was breathing hard. The Prince helped her and the young woman to their feet and then retrieved his drink bottle from the pack astride his horse. He offered some water to the breathless older woman who pushed it away, sneering, ‘None of your potions for me. You’ve failed the test and can leave now.’

‘But that’s where you’re wrong,’ replied the Prince. ‘Your test, was it not, was to get you down from the tree, and that test I have passed, for you are now down from that tree.’

The old woman opened her mouth to speak but then realised the truth of the Prince’s words. He had succeeded. She was down from the tree. She looked at the young woman who smiled. The old woman smiled in return.

‘So you have,’ she said, ‘so you have’.

And so, the Prince and the Golden girl were married and they took up residence in the Prince’s fine tower where people all over the world came to give them felicitations. They came in through the Palace gates but always took the long route around a spindly tree in the centre of the courtyard where lived an old crone who liked to throw rocks at anyone who dared to step too close. But those that did, who took the time to hear her stories were pleased and entertained to hear the tale of how the Prince met his Golden girl and they all lived happily ever after.