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发表于 2016-7-10 17:32:31
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All night the brothers and sister wove a net. In the morning as Eliza slept, eleven swans flew up into the air, carrying the net. The youngest shaded Eliza's face from the sun with his wing.
On the other side of the sea was a beautiful land. The brothers flew hard to reach it in daylight.
"Here is your new home," they said as they landed.
Eliza had a dream that night. A fairy came to her and said, "There is a way to save your brothers, but it means hardship and pain for you. There are stinging nettles around the cave. Gather them, although they will sting, and trample them with your feet. With the flax, weave and make up eleven mail shirts for your brothers. But you must never speak, from the moment you start until you finish, even if it takes years, or your brothers will die."
Eliza awoke with a nettle stinging her hand.
Her brothers had already left as it was broad daylight, so Eliza began her work. When they returned and saw her poor blistered hands, and she would not say a word, they realised that she was working for them. Two more days and the first shirt was finished. A day later, she was at her work, when the royal huntsmen came to the forest. She ran to her cave in fright, but the dogs followed her. The King was amongst the huntsmen and fell in love with Eliza when he saw her.
"I'll take you to the palace, where you may make your home," he told Eliza.
Eliza was beautifully dressed, and the King chose to make her his Queen, but she would not smile or say a word.
"My present to you," he said, taking her to a small chamber, "is a room like your cave, with all your familiar things around you."
There Eliza saw the prepared nettles and the completed shirt and she was happy.
Night after night the young Queen crept away from the King to continue her work.
Soon seven shirts were completed, but she had no more flax. Eliza knew that the nearest nettles grew in the graveyard.
At the dead of night, while all were asleep, she crept out to the graveyard. On a gravestone sat seven witches, counting the dead. Eliza walked straight past, with a shudder.
The Archbishop was the only one to have seen Eliza leave, and he had followed her. He did not trust her, and thought she had bewitched the King.
"The Queen is a witch," the Archbishop told the King. "I have proof."
The King did not want to believe it, but he watched when Eliza went out at night. Night after night, she continued her weaving in the small room. Then one night, with one shirt to go, Eliza ran out of flax and nettles. She would have to visit the graveyard again. This time the King followed. He saw the witches on the gravestone and believed Eliza to be one of them.
"The people must judge her," said the King sadly. And the people judged that she was a witch and should be burned at the stake.
Eliza was thrown into prison. Her pillows and sheets were the nettle shirts. She could not have wished for better blankets, and she continued her work.
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