I kind of dropped the ball to post Tuesday, so today I’m giving you a double feature. A spotlight about another not-as-well-known fairy tale — and some exciting news of my own!
King Thrushbeard is the 52nd story in the Brothers Grimm collection, and one of the most controversial. Ironically, it happens to also be one of my favorites. It’s the ATU type 900…the “Taming of the Shrew” tale type. Or “man teaches woman a lesson.”
I know what you’re thinking. “Wait, that kind of story is one of your favorites?”
Yeah. But before you make any judgments, let’s see how this story plays out.
The story opens with a snobbish and spoiled princess rejecting suitors for her hand left and right, insulting their looks at every turn. Her father attempts to find her the perfect match by throwing a party where all the men looking for a wife would attend and try to win the princess’s hand. He has them stand in a line by order of rank, kings first, then dukes, on down to minor aristocracy.
This just puts them all in one place for her to insult at her leisure. The suitors are too fat, too tall, too short, too pale, and on and on until she reaches the kings. She spies one man whose slightly crooked chin reminds her of a thrush’s beak, and she laughingly calls him King Thrushbeard. This is the last straw for her father. He decrees that she must marry the first beggar that comes to their door.
A couple days pass, and soon a minstrel appears to play for a few coins. The king sees his chance. He invites the minstrel to play, and then offers his daughter as payment for the entertainment. The princess protests but the king reminds her of his promise.
The wedding happens immediately, and the king kicks her out of doors, saying that now she is a beggar’s wife, and therefore not fit to live in palace halls any longer. Thus the minstrel takes her with him to his home, passing beautiful forests, meadows, and towns, all belonging to the last man she insulted, King Thrushbeard. She bemoans ever insulting him, when all this could have been hers upon marrying him.
They finally reach the minstrel’s home, a miserable little hovel she has to duck to enter. The minstrel orders her to start a fire and cook dinner, but she has no idea how to do those things and in the end he ends up doing most of the work. Much the same happens for the other things he orders her to do. She seems to manage housework all right, but weaving baskets causes the willow branches to cut her hands, and spinning thread causes her fingers to bleed.
Fed up with how useless she is, the minstrel procures some pots and has her sit in the market to sell them. She complains that people of her father’s kingdom will see her and ridicule her, but in the end she goes to sell the pottery, otherwise they would both die of hunger.
The business goes fairly well. The people buy her pottery because she’s beautiful and they pity her, and some even pay her but leave the pots. Once all the pottery is sold, her minstrel husband gets more, and she sets up again at the corner of the market.
But this time a drunk hussar, or horseman, rides through and tramples her wares into a thousand shards. She’s terrified of what her husband will say to such an event, but hurries home to tell him. Of course, he insults her and says because she’s too useless for normal work, he’s gotten her a job as a kitchen maid in the palace of the nearby king. All she has to do is do whatever the cook ordered, and gather scraps in two little pots she ties to her waist to serve as their dinner.
Soon it’s time for a wedding — the king’s eldest son is getting married. She sneaks to the door to watch the party, missing those days and regretting her old haughty and arrogant ways. I mean, yeah, she was kind of snooty, but I don’t know if she deserved to get married to a guy like the minstrel.
While she’s watching, the king’s eldest son enters, and she recognizes him as King Thrushbeard, the man she insulted last at her own party. He spies her as well and tries to pull her into the room for a dance, but as he does the pots at her waist fall and break, scattering her scraps everywhere. The people around them laugh and mock her, and in shame she runs.
King Thrushbeard catches her and explains that he is both King Thrushbeard and the minstrel she’s been married to.
“Don’t be afraid. I and the minstrel who has been living with you in that miserable hut are one and the same. For the love of you I disguised myself. And I was also the hussar who broke your pottery to pieces. All this was done to humble your proud spirit and to punish you for the arrogance with which you ridiculed me.”
King Thrushbeard to the princess at the wedding feast
I know, right. You did what out of love??
The princess cries and begs forgiveness for her haughty ways and says she isn’t worthy of being his wife, but he claims those evil days are behind them and now they can celebrate their wedding. Ladies in waiting arrive to clean her up and put her in a fancy dress and they celebrate their happily ever after.
Okay…icky story, right? This is one of those “man teaches a woman a lesson” stories that rubs a lot of people the wrong way.
So…why is it one of my favorites?
I think it’s because it has the potential to be retold in ways so much better than the squirmy “I punished you because I love you” action that goes on. There’s a lot of room for two characters to get to know one another in ways that isn’t just “Do my housework. Why are you so useless?”
I mean, I’ll admit, I’m a sucker for fairy tales that involve couples spending more time together than the usual meet and marry style. Can you imagine the romantic tension? Those nice quiet moments where they might stop to get to know each other a little more?
And if you retell this story, there are plenty of other questions to ask as well. Why does the princess keep spurning and insulting suitors? What motives does she have to stay single? What other reasons could King Thrushbeard have for marrying her other than to teach her a lesson? Is the princess perfectly beastly or is she misunderstood? Are there communication problems? Is the minstrel beastly, and if so, is there an alternative ending to this tale?
There’s just so much to work with! So many ways a retelling can go. In fact, I think so highly of the potential of this story…I’m writing a retelling of my own.
That’s right! That’s the big news. I’ve started work on a retelling of King Thrushbeard of my own. It’s the start of a trilogy inspired by Beauty and the Beast tales and similar stories of beastly spouses. The first of that trilogy will be the King Thrushbeard retelling.
Want to see a small excerpt of my work? Check it this sneak peek!
A hush came over the great hall as she entered. Lady Avalyn Teodora Bellinor. The prize.
The purple and gold train of her dress swept behind her in a perfect fan, her hands folded before her. She had her bare shoulders squared and drawn back, the cut of her gown a straight line across her bosom and arms. Her dress didn’t have the same shapeless cut as other popular dresses in Beringar, but instead actually drew attention to her small waist and the gentle flare of her hips, as well as the shapely curves above. Her mask hid half of her face, but the half that was visible, her sculpted cheekbones, the sloping angle of her jaw down to the gentle point of her chin, the curve of her painted lips, those were proudly on display. Elegant. Confident.
Some would say haughty.
His appraisal took perhaps a few seconds before he trained his eyes on the braids in her hair, a safer place to look. But he could feel it in the air around him, the shift that rolled over them as she passed down the open pathway cutting through the audience of men. The stares following Lady Avalyn as she made her way toward the dais were predatory. She was stunning, beautiful, and for many men, that’s all they saw. The points of her shoulder blades disappearing beneath her gown, the shape of her hips. Others seemed interested in the gold twisted in the fibers of her train, calculating the wealth they hoped to win. How many men here saw their year’s wages in the embroidery alone?
There was a tension in the air where there wasn’t before. Whatever amicable nature was formerly present in the hall had dissolved.
It was a competition now.
She reached the dais and ascended the three, carpeted steps, turning at the top with such practice her train more or less kept its shape as it curved around her. Like she was ready to pose for a portrait. Like she’d done this before.
The smile that curved over her lips wasn’t welcoming, soft, or demure. The audience in that great hall found themselves under the haughty smirk of a cat cornering a mouse…or a heartless queen at an execution. She spread her hands, her sleeves draping down from the elbows.
“Gentlemen,” she began, and her smirk grew, as though she were privy to a secret no one else was. “May the best man win.”
Yes! There is so much scope for the imagination in this fairy tale! Looks like you’re off to a good start. I like the idea of a trilogy–sounds like each one will be a different fairy tale, but with a similar theme?
Yes! I’m specifically working with what makes a beastly character. So King Thrushbeard will be the first, transitioning into a Beauty and the Beast story in the second, and finally into a Cupid and Psyche/East of the Sun, West of the Moon type story with the final novel.