The Spanish princess, daughter of the Spanish king, turned sixteen years old. It was time to marry her off. The suitors heard about this, and a great multitude of them came from different parts of the earth.
There was an Indian Rajah, and the heir to the French throne, and a Portuguese prince, and a Persian Shah, and there were countless princes and dukes.
The last to arrive was the Turkish Sultan, old and bandy-legged.
The princess looked through the crack at the suitors whom her father was receiving in the main hall and laughed until she dropped. Only twice did she not laugh. The first time I saw the Portuguese prince, because he was stately, handsome and the princess really liked him. The second time she didn’t laugh was when she saw the Turkish Sultan - he was very scary.
The princess's father was confused: all the suitors are noble and rich - how can one choose a worthy one? After all, he loved the princess as much as any father loves his only daughter, whether he has a crown or not. He thought for three days and finally came up with an idea. Let the princess throw a golden ball at random. Whoever he hits will become her husband.
On the appointed day, the suitors gathered in front of the palace. The princess went out onto the balcony, and all the suitors closed their eyes at once, blinded by her beauty.
Here the princess threw her golden ball. She was aiming, of course, at the Portuguese prince. Unfortunately, the Turkish Sultan was standing nearby. Seeing where the ball was flying, he pressed himself closely to the Portuguese prince. The ball touched the prince's shoulder, but - alas! – he touched the cunning Turk’s shoulder.
And so both appeared before the king and his daughter.
The king was confused. After all, he came up with this whole idea with the ball so that he wouldn’t have to choose. And besides, his beloved daughter, looking at her two suitors, either cried or laughed, and the king could not understand who she wanted to marry.
“Your Royal Majesty,” said the Portuguese prince, “I love your daughter and ask for her hand in marriage.”
“I like the princess no less,” objected the Turkish Sultan. “There is no need for such a beautiful girl to marry a yellow-haired young man who has never even been married before.” I am a different matter - I have a hundred wives, and I know well how to treat them. So don’t hesitate, Your Royal Majesty, give your daughter to me.
But then the princess said firmly:
- Only the one who will have me alone, like a heart in his chest, can become my husband.
And she looked at the Portuguese prince.
The king finally understood what his daughter wanted and replied:
“There’s nothing to be done, your Turkish Sultanate, look for your one hundred and first wife in other parts, because I won’t give you my daughter.”
The Turkish Sultan was terribly angry. He trampled on his turban in a rage and said that it did not deserve better treatment if its owner could be humiliated like that. At the end he said to the king:
“If I didn’t get your daughter, then let no one get it.”
With these words, he picked up his turban and left.
And the next day the Spanish princess fell seriously ill. She grew thinner and paler every hour, her eyes were deeply sunken. The illness cramped her body, and every now and then the princess bent over, like a sheaf knitter. The doctors did not know what to call the disease and how to cure it.
Then the king, in confusion, rang the Council Bell.
- Signors of the Council! - he said. “My daughter is wasting away day by day. Tell me what to do.
And the wise lords of the Council answered:
“We heard that in Italy, at the court of one of the kings, there lives a girl named Rosalinda. She is as beautiful as she is wise. She found the missing daughter of this king and saved her. Send for her, maybe she will save your daughter too.
- Wonderful! - exclaimed the king. “Your advice, gentlemen of the Council, was to my liking.”
The king clapped his hands and ordered the ships to be equipped immediately. He appointed the oldest lord of the Council as ambassador to the Italian king.
The ships were already raising anchors when the king ran ashore, out of breath.
“Ah, senior lord of the Council, I almost forgot to give you the iron glove.” If that king does not agree to let Rosalind go, throw the glove at his feet as a sign of war.
The ambassador bowed to the king, took the glove, and the ships sailed.
The glove actually almost came in handy. Because the king, Rosalind's named father, flatly refused to let his adopted daughter go to Spain. And there would have been war if Rosalind herself had not ran into the hall. Having heard why the ambassador had come, she said:
– Don’t be upset, dear king, I’ll go to Spain for a while. Maybe I can help the Spanish princess.
And she persuaded the king so much that he agreed.
The ships sailed back to Spain. The Spanish king himself and the saddened Portuguese prince came out to meet Rosalind.
As soon as Rosalind stepped ashore, she said:
- Take me quickly to your daughter.
And it was just time, because the princess completely disappeared.
“This is not a simple disease,” Rosalind said to herself, “there is something here!” She locked herself with the queen in her chambers and ordered that no one should enter them for three days and three nights. The Spanish king, with his royal hands, placed seven large wax seals on the doors leading to his daughter’s chambers.
And then evening came. Rosalind wanted to light a candle, but she had neither flint, nor steel, nor tinder. She looked out the window and noticed a dim light far, far away on the hill. Rosalind, without thinking twice, took the candle, jumped out the window and ran in that direction. The further she walked, the brighter the fire became. And when Rosalind came very close, she saw a big fire. There was a huge cauldron on the fire, in which something was boiling. An old bow-legged Turk in a turban was stirring the brew and saying something not in Italian, not in Spanish, but in his own way, in Turkish.
“Eh,” thought Rosalind, “isn’t this the cauldron where the life of the Spanish princess melts?” And she said to the Turk:
- Oh, poor thing, rest a little, you are very tired.
“I can’t rest,” replied the Turk. “I’ve been interfering for three months, day and night, night and day.” It won't be long now. Soon I will leave for my Turkey, otherwise my hundred wives will not quarrel among themselves.
“Well, let me interfere for you,” said Rosalind.
“Stir, stir, but I swear by the beard of Mohammed, if you stir badly, I will boil you in this cauldron.”
The Turk sat on the ground cross-legged, and Rosalind began diligently stirring the stinking brew with a dried owl's paw.
- Am I interfering? – she asked the Turk?
“Get in the way, get in the way,” the Turk grumbled.
“Go to sleep,” said Rosalind.
The Turk fell asleep.
Then Rosalind went ahead and overturned the cauldron with the magic potion right on top of the Turk.
Oh, what happened here! The Turk immediately became as thin as a piece of wood, shriveled up all over, and finally turned into a pile of trash.
And Rosalind lit a candle from the smoldering coals and rushed to run to the palace.
When she returned, the Spanish princess slept peacefully, like a child, for the first time in many days. A blush appeared on her pale cheeks.
On the day appointed by Rosalind, the Spanish king broke the seven seals and opened the doors. A cheerful and healthy daughter threw herself on his neck.
The king awarded Rosalind with rich gifts and sent her to Italy with honors. The Spanish princess hugged her tightly, kissed her and asked her not to forget that Rosalind had a named sister in Spain. And the Portuguese prince, her fiancé, added: and sworn brother.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru