The Last Songbird
The Last Songbird
There is a land far away, between three oceans, where sweet apples grow on the thorn-bushes and the children play from dawn to nightfall. Today if you go there to visit, you will find warm lakes to swim in and snowy hillsides for your sled, but it was not always like this. Once, it was a poor place where people starved in little huts by the shoulder of a black mountain.
Long ago, in that land, lived the craftsman, Thomas, a maker of musical instruments. He had a daughter, Elsie, who loved to sit beneath a walnut tree listening to the songbirds on its branches. She called it the Song-Tree and Thomas said that was where the songbirds learned their music.
Sometimes, in the long, warm summer evenings, Thomas would bring a new instrument from his workshop and she would play for him till it was time for bed.
Elsie, he would say, How I wish that I could give you an instrument of your own.
But he was a poor man, and had to sell everything he made.
One day, as Elsie was playing a new violin for her father, a carriage drew up, pulled by four mighty black horses, and a man stepped out.
What wonderful music, he said, and what a fine violin! Such work I have never seen.
I must sell it, said Thomas, so that we can live.
The stranger looked at the patches on Elsie’s dress. I will make a wager with you, he said, and if you win you will never be poor again.
Ah, said the violin-maker, but what if you win? I have nothing to give.
Oh, but you have, said the stranger. If I win, I will raise Elsie as my own daughter. She will be a great musician.
Never! said Thomas. She is a person and I do not own her. I would not wager my daughter for all your gold and castles. Not for all the riches of the land.
But Elsie was intrigued. What is the wager? she asked.
It is this, said the stranger. If your father creates an instrument sweeter than any sound I can find, I will honour our bargain. If he fails three times, you shall stay with me.
Thomas began to protest again, but Elsie held up her hand to quieten him. We will think about your offer, she said.
The stranger bowed. I can ask no more than that, he said. If you agree to the wager, you must come to my castle and play for me. With that, he called to his driver, stepped aboard the coach and was gone.
Elsie and her father talked long into the night about the stranger’s offer.
I cannot do it, said Thomas. What if I fail?
You will not fail, said Elsie, You are the finest craftsman in the land.
He will take you away from me. Did you not recognise him? That was the Knight of the Purple Mountains!
He is a kind man, said Elsie, and he would not keep me against my will.
I don’t know, sighed Thomas.
You will do it, said Elsie, and she was right.
The very next day, Thomas went into the forest and came back with a blackthorn branch. For seven days and nights, he cut and he sawed, he drilled and he shaved, he rubbed and he polished until at last he had fashioned the purest flute that Elsie had ever seen.
Oh, Father! she cried, That’s the best you’ve ever made. We will surely win. So they wrapped the flute in a waxen cloth and set off for the palace.
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When they arrived, the Knight waited at the gates. I had word that you were coming, he said. I am glad. He ordered a great banquet in their honour and had his servants bring fine clothes for them. We must dress you for the feast, he declared.
Elsie had never dreamed she would own a new dress, especially one of silk and gold brocade. The servants brought her shoes of the best leather and gloves as fine as cobweb.
Now, said the Knight, you must play for us, and everybody gasped as Elsie unwrapped the little parcel.
This is the most beautiful flute ever made, they said.
As Elsie began to play, the servants smiled to each other, for they had never seen their master so happy. When the tune finished, it seemed as if the Knight had fallen asleep, but at last he opened his eyes. Elsie, that was the most enchanting music I have ever heard, and this must be the finest flute in the world. Then he frowned as a servant appeared with a nightingale in a cage. Now for the test, he said.
As the servant set the cage on the table, the bird began to sing its strange bewitching song and everybody listened, unable to move until the song had ended.
Very well, said the Knight, now we will decide. Elsie, tell me which is sweeter – the song of the nightingale or the song of the flute.
Elsie knew the answer before he asked. I cannot lie to you, she said, it is the song of the nightingale.
What are you saying? demanded Thomas, but the Knight hushed him.
Do not be angry, he said. She is only telling the truth.
He took out a purse. Have this, he said. The flute you brought is the finest ever made, and I will pay you well for it. Now you must leave, but remember you only have two more chances.
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Thomas bought a fine cart and a grey horse to pull it. He bought a new pot for the fire. All of Elsie’s friends came to see her beautiful dress and to run their fingers along the silk and gold tracery, but she was not happy. Soon they would have to return to the palace.
Thomas hardly slept at all. For one whole month, he stayed in his workshop, and in the end, he emerged with a violin like none other. The body was of finest linden and maple. Along the back, inlaid with ivory, he had placed a scene of ships and sailors, great storms and vast oceans. It looked almost too beautiful to play.
With this violin, we must surely win, said Elsie, and they set off again.
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This time, a great crowd waited at the gates of the palace, because news of the wonderful music had spread far and wide. A servant brought them to the great hall, where the Knight lay on a bed, attended by his doctors.
Forgive me, he said, I have fallen ill with longing to hear you play again.
Elsie took the violin from its case and showed it to him. This will heal you, she said, and began to play. As the sound of the violin floated through the great castle, everybody stopped to listen. The cooks came up from the kitchen and huddled by the door. Soldiers at their targets paused with bows at full stretch and it is said that even the arrows stopped in flight.
The Knight threw back his covers and leaped from his bed. Elsie, he said, your music has saved me. The wager is yours, for I have never heard such a sweet melody.
But the servant appeared again with a cage, and this time it held a song-thrush. The hall fell silent as the thrush began to sing and, with the very first note, Elsie knew which sound was the sweeter.
The birdsong is sweeter, she told the Knight.
It is, he agreed, and yet, your playing has touched me like no other. He handed her father a purse even bigger than the first one. Take this, he said, and when you return, you must bring the sweetest instrument ever made.
We will, said Elsie.
Depend on it, said her father.
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Thomas gave half of the gold to his neighbours and soon all of Elsie’s friends had new dresses just like hers. But still Elsie and her father were sad because they would have to return to the palace one last time. The craftsman set to work again and many fine instruments came from the workshop, but each one disappointed them. They both knew that the violin was the finest ever made. What chance had they of making a sweeter instrument?
Thomas began to worry. He grew so thin that his new clothes hung off him like rags. One day, in the workshop, he threw down his chisels. My darling Elsie, he moaned, why did I accept that wager? What are riches compared to my lovely daughter?
Never fear, said Elsie. You will think of something. But secretly, she was just as worried.
That night, while Elsie slept, her father went into the garden with an axe and chopped down the Song-Tree. He hurried to his workshop where he set about making an instrument that he knew would win for him the wager, and when Elsie woke, she found him at her bedside, smiling.
Elsie, he said, come and see.
What is it, Father?
In good time.
He led her out to the workshop and made a great show of opening the door before he finally revealed his creation.
See what I have made, he announced. Then he threw back the door and there, on the floor, was a harp made entirely of walnut.
Elsie looked at the harp and then at her father. You must have walked many miles to find this wood, for there is only one walnut-tree in these parts, and that is the Song-Tree in our garden.
Come on, said her father, we must tune this harp.
He carried it deep into the forest and set it up among the trees where small creatures scurried and the sound of birdsong filled the air.
Now, he said, play the harp. But when Elsie plucked the strings, they made no sound.
Wait, said her father, so they waited until a linnet fluttered onto a branch. When the bird started to sing, Elsie’s father signalled to her. Pluck the first string.
A faint sound came from the harp.
Again, said Thomas.
So she plucked the string again, and the note became stronger.
Again, he urged.
As the harp-string grew louder, the linnet’s song became more feeble, until at last it could not be heard at all.
Good, said Elsie’s father. Now we must wait.
Soon, a nightingale came and landed on a branch. When it began singing, Thomas signalled to her again. Pluck the next string.
The same thing happened. As the harp’s music rippled among the trees, the bird’s call grew ever fainter until at last it could not be heard at all. More songbirds landed, and with each one the harp’s music became louder and sweeter, but one by one the birds fell quiet. Soon the forest was silent but for the rustling of hedgehogs and the jackdaw’s distant call.
Elsie was frightened. Father, she said, what’s happening?
We’re borrowing the song of the birds, he said, and with it we shall win our wager.
But Father, Elsie protested, what will the birds do for their song?
Enough of that! he snapped. We must win. I don’t want to lose you.
He stood still for a moment, listening. That is the last of the songbirds and the last of the strings. We don’t want the jackdaw’s ugly screech. He picked up the harp. Come, it is time to win our wager.
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Elsie travelled to the palace with a heavy heart. Throughout the long journey, she listened in hope for a thrush or a linnet, but everywhere there was silence. It saddened her to think that in all the world no birds were singing.
A servant met them at the gates. Please, he said, you must hurry. My master is dying and the doctors have given up hope.
Elsie forgot all about the songbirds, for she had become quite fond of the Knight. She raced up the steps into the great hall, where her friend lay, surrounded by flowers. Twenty doctors fussed around him.
Let me in, said Elsie, and pushed her way through.
The Knight did indeed look ill. His face was pale and one arm hung limply over the edge of the bed. Beside him, on the pillow, lay the violin and the flute.
I will play for him, said Elsie, and called for the harp.
As she began to play, the doctors fell quiet. The flowers at the bedside began to grow and spread blossoms all over the sleeping man. Some said that even the stones of the castle walls grew damp with tears. The crowd of doctors gasped with astonishment as the Knight stirred and opened his eyes. He held out his hand to the girl.
I have waited so long for you to return, he said. Where have you been?
I am here now, said Elsie, and I have brought you the sweetest music ever heard.
It is true, said the Knight. No music could be sweeter than this, and it has saved my life.
A servant appeared as before, with a caged bird, and set it by the bedside, but no song came forth.
Even the birds are dumbstruck, smiled the Knight, but we must have a test.
He ordered the servant to bring another cage but the same thing happened, so he sent for another cage and another until at last the floor of the great hall was covered with cages and in them a hundred silent songbirds.
The Knight took Elsie by the hand. You have won, he said, for I have no sound sweeter than your harp. I will honour my bargain, yet I am sad because I will never see you again.
As he spoke, a jackdaw swooped into the hall and perched on the harp. Kaaaaa!!! screeched the jackdaw. Kaaaa!
The Knight laughed. Now, he said, there is our test. Elsie, you must decide between the harp and this jackdaw. Which is sweeter? And he laughed again.
Elsie made no reply.
Why do you not answer? asked the Knight with a frown. Anyone can hear the difference between the beautiful sound of your harp and this bird’s horrible cry.
The harp is false, said Elsie. Its music is stolen.
She held out her hand to the jackdaw. This creature’s voice may sound ugly to you, but it is a true sound and is sweeter than any harp made of lies.
Then she began to cry. You have won, she said. Send my father home and I will stay here with you as I promised.
No! said the craftsman. You must not take my daughter.
But the Knight stood up and took him by the hand. Have no fear, he said. I will not keep your daughter. The harp might be made of lies, but Elsie has spoken truth and that is the sweetest sound of all.
Then he turned to Elsie. You shall have your house, he said, and your servants. I will call the finest music teachers to guide you. But I will ask you two favours.
Anything, said Elsie.
First, you must promise to come here often and play for me, or I will surely die.
I will, said Elsie. What is the other favour?
Play for me now.
So Elsie took up the harp and as the music echoed through the rooms of the great palace, first one songbird and then another began to sing. Softly at first, the birds whispered to each other, and then their chorus grew louder until it filled the hall with rejoicing. As each new bird took up the song, another string in the harp fell quiet until at last, when every bird had regained its voice, the harp was silent forever.
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