An aged, very aged King ruled over these men; he was so wise that they consulted him about everything, and obeyed him like children. It was a glorious sight when the old man, with waving white locks and beard, swept by upon his winged stag, all his men following after, like a storm-cloud, beneath whose thunder the Carpathians shook again.
There was something, however, which filled them all with deepest concern. King Briar had no son, but only one daughter—a glorious maiden, as tall as a fir-tree, as bold as a boy, and so strong that she could lead the wild winged stags three and four on one halter, without giving way a step when they reared and tore at the bridle.
The men held a great council, and came to lay their anxious thoughts before the King. “May the Great Spirit send thee yet a long, long life,” said they, “but when he shall call thee down to the golden caverns below, whom are we to choose in thy stead, since thou hast no son? We would gladly choose thy daughter, and gladly would we serve her, but how can we submit a maiden to the hard test our kings have to undergo?”
The King stroked his white beard and answered: “Who knows but my child would endure the ordeal as heroically as though she were a lad? Ye can see that in all other matters she is brave and strong, and if she should choose a good and a wise mate, ye would be as happy then as ye are now. I will ask her if she will make the trial.”
King Briar clapped his hands. Then the Carpathians trembled from end to end; and presently, amid a trampling of hoofs and rustling of wings, a sound like the rushing of the storm-wind drew near.
The King’s daughter stood upright upon a stag’s back, clasping the golden chains that held his bit in one hand, while with the other she swung a whip, as long as a huge snake, that flashed in the air like a streak of fiery lightning. Her form seemed to reach up to the sky, and her hair fluttered about her like a thick cloud, hiding the sun at intervals. But, instead of the sun, the stars in her face shone forth, and the teeth that her laughing mouth disclosed, as she sang and shouted for glee.
The King glanced at his men with a smile, as though he would have said, “Is she enough of a lad for ye?”
At that moment she sprang to the ground, and throwing the chains to some of the bystanders, she cried, “There, take them; but there is not one of you can drive them all at once.” Then kneeling before the King, she asked in gentle tones, “Didst thou call me, my father?”
“Vijelia,[4] my child, arise and look upon these men; they have come to ask who shall be king after me. Whom thinkest thou?”