Welcome to my fireside, my dear. You might recognize the old story I am about to tell, though every storyteller tells it differently. It's not a pleasant tale, but that is probably because it has come down to us from a dark time, much like our own. A whiff of brimstone was in this tale before I got to it, so please don't blame the teller.

Once upon a time, an ambitious young man left the cottage where he lived with his parents and his fifteen brothers and sisters, and set forth to seek his fortune. The first person he met along the road was a priest. "My son," said this holy man, "serving God is the greatest joy that man might know. Come with me and shun the temptations of this world."

But the young man answered, "It is not for me, Father," and continue on his way.

The next person that the young man met was a weaver and tailor who could make fine cloth and sturdy garments. "You seem lost, my son," said the weaver in a kindly tone. "The only security a man might know," he philosophized, "comes from the skill of his hands. Come with me and I will teach you to clothe the world. Learn well, and you will never lack bread."

But the young man answered, "It is not for me, sir," and parted from him at the next turning.

The third person that the young man met was a fine lady riding a fine horse. "Will you serve me, young man?" she asked with a twinkle in her eyes. "My husband is very old and very rich. He will pay you well if you are strong and able."

"Gladly, my lady," answered the young man. At once she dismounted and led the young man into a secret opening in the woods that she knew of so that he could mount and show her his riding skills. She was well pleased, and said that he would be her personal servant. She did not ask his name, but named him Ready.

Ready served the lady well for a year and a day as he cherished his ambition: he planned to become her next lord and true owner of all the old lord's demesne. Soon after Ready became head cook in the lady's household, her husband fell from his chair at dinner, gasping and moaning. The lady had never seen him so lively, but alas, the lord died within the hour.

Seeing Opportunity at hand, Ready grasped it firmly along with one of the lady's ivory mounds as she knelt by her husband's body, pulling her bodice even lower than it was designed to be worn. "Marry me, 'Titia," he declared. "Now you will be truly mine."

"Unhand me, low-born stud," she responded. "Since you no longer know your place, you must leave this house at once. My fertile hills and shady valleys are not for the likes of you to command."

So Ready departed in despair, still wearing the lady's livery. Even his name was not his own, and so he set forth again to find his fortune one way or another.

At last he was too hungry and thirsty to travel further, so he knocked on the door of the wizard who lived at the edge of town. "Welcome, son," said the half-blind and white- bearded wizard, who believed he saw a likely young man standing before him. "I will keep you and teach you all my secrets if you become my assistant and promise to take my place when I am gone." Even powerful wizards can become lonely without human companionship.

So Ready stayed on as the wizard's assistant, although he was not allowed to cook anything other than potions for spells. At length he grew restless. "Teach me, Father," he beseeched, "to turn base metal to gold. Or at least to turn a nightingale into a beautiful lady who will do my bidding."

The wizard laughed. "And why, my son," he asked, "do you want a golden cauldron? Or golden wheels on our wagon? This is a foolish wish. And as for the beautiful lady, she would soon turn back into a bird which would not even sing to your liking. A wise wizard seeks the knowledge of what is," the old man explained to his pupil. "Did you not once tell me that you wanted to find your true name?"

But Ready was not satisfied with such answers, and he left the wizard's house the very next day. The wizard had named him "Wantit," and that seemed like the last straw. So the young man took some straws from the wizard's thatched roof, and hid them under his shirt before he left, hoping they contained enough magic to help him find his fortune someday.

Wantit returned to his home village and married the maiden next door. She was both kind and fair, but Wantit treated her harshly because she was not a fine lady, nor had she brought him a rich dowry. Instead of providing him with land, fine horses and wealth beyond measure, Wantit's wife had only a generous heart and the skills of her body. And so Wantit reluctantly sought out the weaver and became the oldest apprentice in the village while he did whatever odd jobs came his way to provide for the little ones that Mrs. Wantit kept bringing forth. Wantit felt no admiration for this magic trick which all women seemed to know.

In due course, Mrs. Wantit died of a broken heart after bearing several babies who did not live long enough to be christened. Wantit was left alone with his eldest daughter

Avaricia, who was as bold as she was beautiful. "Do not despair, Father," she told him after the untimely deaths of her mother and all her brothers and sisters. "We have each other, and we can seek our fortune together." Avaricia dutifully kept house for her father, but every day she kept watch for the King and his courtiers, who liked to hunt in the nearby woods.

One day the King's retinue rode into the village square to announce a competition to be held throughout the kingdom. "Hear ye, hear ye!" bellowed the King's loudest lackey. "The King is seeking a bride for his son, Prince Horndog, who has come of age to beget a legitimate heir and prepare for his future responsibilities. Only the fairest, the purest and the most accomplished maidens will be considered for this great honor, but maidens of humble birth may apply. Bring your daughters hence."

What a clamor and bustle this announcement produced! Parents pushed their daughters forward, from the youngest girls to the oldest spinsters. "Show your ankles, dear," mothers were heard to whisper to their daughters, while fathers muttered, "Unlace the top of your bodice, daughter, that your beauty may be seen." One maiden stuffed her shift into a basket and set fire to it to protest the King's treatment of women as objects, but her father and brothers promptly stomped out the flames and dragged her away, announcing to the whole village that if she remained unwed for the rest of her life, she could find no shelter under their roof.

Wantit and Avaricia pushed their way through the crowd, ignoring the glares of their neighbors. "Your Majesty and company," announced Wantit, "my daughter is the finest maiden in the land. Her hair is black as a raven's wing, her cheeks are as pink as rosebuds, and her breasts are like bowls of cream topped with ripe strawberries. Her hips are round and full for easy childbearing, and between her legs there lies a deep well--."

"Enough, man," replied the King' lackey, even as he marveled at the damsel and her doting father. "Fair she is, but a damsel fit for the prince must have special talents."

Avaricia herself blushed, which did not happen often. But before she could speak, other villagers called out their daughters' accomplishments: "She can spin and weave!" "She does fine embroidery!" "She can brew fine ale!" "She can cook a feast for the King!"

Wantit felt that he would die if he could not become father-in-law to the prince. He knew that the King always needed more money to pay for a new war. "My daughter can weave straw into gold!" he shouted. Avaricia was as astonished as everyone else. She barely knew how to spin wool into yarn.

"Very well," said the King's lackey. "She shall be brought to the palace. If she fails to satisfy, she will be beheaded and her father will be driven from the kingdom."

"Oh, I will do everything in my power to satisfy His Highness," murmured the blushing Avaricia in her most girlish tone. And so she left the village in her best gown, made by her father, with the straws from the wizard's roof tucked in her bodice.

That evening, Prince Horndog came to the chamber where Avaricia awaited her fate. A spinning wheel stood in a corner. "Lovely one," grinned the prince, rubbing his codpiece. "If you can perform the trick that was promised, you may please me for the rest of your life. It distresses me so to see maidens lose their heads."

"Your Highness," replied the damsel, unlacing her bodice, "mine is in no danger. It will be my pleasure to show you many tricks." And so she boldly removed her gown and all her underthings, carefully keeping her lucky straws out of sight.

The prince was so dazzled by Avaricia's beauty that he promptly offered her his royal scepter to hold and to kiss. In return, he asked her to give him her jewel of great price. (The prince was no cleverer than he needed to be.)

"Husband," boldly answered the minx, "I am but a poor girl and cannot give you such a treasure, but I can make your scepter disappear in the snatch of a moment. And in the course of time, I can give you your heart's desire: an heir to inherit your kingdom."

The prince accepted Avaricia's offer, and she showed him tricks all night long. When morning came, however, he commanded her to spin straw into gold as her father had promised. She was frightened, but did not despair. "Sire," said the young lady, "I cannot perform tricks by daylight. After the clock has struck midnight, I will do all that Your Highness wishes."

That night, the prince left Avaricia alone to work her magic, but ordered his servants to spy on her. As she sat forlornly by the spinning wheel, an ugly little man with glowing red eyes appeared beside her. "Give me your worthless straws and I will help you, wench," he growled in the voice of a vicious dog. "The promise which brought you here will be kept by first cock's-crow, and you will pay for it."

In spite of herself, the damsel shuddered. The little man gave her a smile which made him look immeasurably more evil than when he first appeared. Known evil is really more frightening than that which is completely strange, and Avaricia feared that the little man was familiar to her. "If you cannot guess my true name in three tries," he warned her, "I will take your firstborn child to raise until he is fit to rule according to my will. And then all will be under my power." Avaricia was dismayed, but she had no desire to lose her head, and so she agreed.

By morning, the room was filled with shining golden threads which lay in great skeins like the hair of angels or the wigs of the King's favorite mistresses. The prince and his father the King were overjoyed, and the prince's wedding to Avaricia was arranged at once. All the church bells in the kingdom rang out the good news, and there was joy in the land.

Princess Avaricia cleverly set to work producing a baby, and she was brought to bed in a remarkably short time. Three days after she was blessed with a son, her chamber was filled with golden light as though it held piles of magic thread. The princess shuddered.

"Fear not, daughter," murmured a soft voice. "It is I, your mother, come to guard you from harm." Avaricia gazed in wonder at the radiant ghost who hovered at the foot of her bed. "I am your guardian still, as I was in life, and I have come to tell you what you must know." The ghost bent over her daughter, who wondered if she were still dreaming, and whispered some motherly advice in her ear. Then she kissed Avaricia and her infant grandson, and vanished without a trace, leaving only the scent of spring violets.

No sooner had the princess soothed her baby son back to sleep at her breast than the ugly little man appeared, filling the room with red light as though from a great fire. "The child is mine," he gloated, "mine by right. Unless you can tell me my name."

"Let's see," mused the princess. "Could it be Hairy Lowballs?"

"No," growled the little man. "You don't know it. Hand over the child."

"Well then," said the princess, holding her son tightly, "surely it must be Saggybutt?"

"No, no," snarled the little man. "You lose."

"Then it could only be Sourforeskin," cried Avaricia in triumph. The little man was so angry that he stomped a great hole in the floor, and fell through it in a cloud of fetid smoke. He was never seen again by anyone who wished to tell of it.

The very next morning, as the princess lay contentedly suckling her babe, guards came to arrest her on suspicion of witchcraft. The prince, after hearing the report of his servants, had decided that he did not want a wife who knew more tricks than he did. His father, the King, took pride in his son's common sense, and he commanded that the princess be examined and tortured as justice demanded. And so the baby prince was given to the care of a wetnurse, and Avaricia was burnt so thoroughly that after the wind carried her ashes away, there was nothing left of her to be seen. And the name of Wantit was never heard in the kingdom again, but perhaps all those who once lived under that name have found their true names at last.

After a month of deep mourning, Prince Horndog was betrothed to a maiden so innocent and modest that she often forgot her own name and had to ask for her own whereabouts. She and the prince were married forthwith, and from that day on, she was guarded so well that she always knew who she was. The prince and princess had many children, and they all lived together as happily as could be expected until all the prince's gold had been spent on royal mistresses, and the War of Succession broke out. But that is another story. -------------

Copyright 2000 by Jean Roberta. Not to be reproduced without the author's written permission.