Somewhat before noon the prince and his army arrived on the bank of a broad river, over which a narrow bridge had been thrown, which only permitted the soldiers to pass one by one. The prince was just riding on the middle of the bridge, when the witch's bundle came flying along, borne by the wind, and attacked his horse like a gadfly. The horse snorted with terror, reared up on his hind-legs, and before any help could be given, the maiden slid from the saddle and fell headlong into the river. The prince would have leaped in after her, but the soldiers seized hold of him and prevented him, for the river was of unfathomable depth, and no human aid could avail to remedy the misfortune which had happened.
The prince was almost distracted with grief and horror, and the soldiers forced him to accompany them home against his will. He lay in a quiet room for weeks mourning over the calamity, and at first refused all food and drink. The king summoned magicians from all quarters, but none of them could discover the nature of the disease or suggest any remedy. But one day the son of the wind-sorcerer, who was one of the labourers in the king's garden, advised, "Send to Finland for the oldest of all magicians, for he is wiser than the magicians of our country."
When the king heard this, he sent a messenger to the old Finnish sorcerer, who arrived after a week on the wings of the wind. He spoke thus to the king: "Mighty king, the disease which afflicts the prince is caused by the wind. An evil witch-packet has robbed the prince of the half of his heart, and therefore he suffers unceasingly. Send him often into the wind that the wind may bear away his sorrows into the forest."
He was not wrong, for the health of the prince soon began to improve, his appetite grew better, and he was able to sleep at night. At last he confided the sorrow of his heart to his parents, and his father wished him to seek out another young bride to lead home; but the prince would not listen to the proposal.
The young man had already passed a year in mourning, when one day he happened to come to the bridge where he had lost his betrothed, and bitter tears rose to his eyes at the recollection. Suddenly he heard a sweet voice singing, although no living creature was in sight. And the voice sang:
"By the mother's curse o'ertaken,
Sank in flood the hapless maiden,
In the watery grave the fair one,
And in Ahti's [132] waves thy darling."
The prince dismounted from his horse, and looked round everywhere to see whether some one might not be hidden under the bridge, but he could see no singer anywhere. The only object visible was a water-lily, swaying on the water amid its broad leaves. But a swaying flower could not sing, and there must be something mysterious about it. He tied his horse to a stump on the bank, and sat down on the bridge to listen, hoping that his eyes or ears would give him some solution of the riddle. All was still for a while, but presently the invisible singer sang again:
"By the mother's curse o'ertaken,
Sank in flood the hapless maiden,
In the watery grave the fair one,
And in Ahti's waves thy darling."
Sometimes the wind brings a fortunate idea to men, and such was the case now. The prince thought, "If I rode alone to the cottage in the wood, who knows but that the gold-spinners might be able to give me some explanation of this wonderful occurrence." He mounted his horse and rode towards the forest. He hoped to find his way easily by the former indications, but the wood had grown, and he rode for more than one day before he could discover the footpath. When he drew near the cottage, he stopped and waited, hoping that one of the maidens would come out. Early in the morning the eldest sister came out to wash her face at the spring. The young man went to her, and told her of the misfortune that had happened on the bridge the year before, and of the song which he had heard there a day or two ago. It happened that the old mother was absent from home, and the maiden invited the prince into the house. As soon as the two girls heard his story, they knew that the misfortune must have been caused by their mother's witch's coil, and that their sister was not dead, but only enchanted. The eldest sister inquired, "Did you see nothing on the surface of the water from whence the song might have proceeded?" "Nothing," replied the prince. "As far as my eyes could reach, nothing could be perceived on the surface of the water but a yellow water-lily surrounded by its broad leaves; but leaves and flowers cannot sing." The maidens immediately suspected that the water-lily could be nothing but their sister, who had fallen into the water, and had been changed into a flower by enchantment. They knew that their old mother had let fly the witch's coil after the maiden, with her curse, and that if it had not killed her, it might have transformed her into any shape. But they would not tell the prince of their suspicions until they could devise some means for their sister's release, lest they might inspire him with fruitless hopes. As they did not expect their mother to return home for some days, there was plenty of time to consider the best course to adopt.
In the evening the eldest sister gathered a sufficient quantity of various magic herbs, which she rubbed with flour into a dough; and baked a pie which she gave to the young man to eat before he retired to rest at night. During the night the prince had a wonderful dream. He thought that he was in the wood among the birds, and that he could understand the language of them all. In the morning he related his dream to the maidens, and the eldest sister observed, "You have come to us at a fortunate hour, and you have had your dream at a fortunate hour, for it will be fulfilled on your way home. The pork pie which I baked for your welfare yesterday, and gave you to eat, was mixed with magic herbs which will enable you to understand everything which the knowing birds say to one another. These little feathered people are gifted with much wisdom which is unknown to mankind. Turn a sharp ear to whatever their beaks may utter. And when your own time of trouble is over, do not forget us poor children, who sit here at the spinning-wheel as if in an eternal prison."