Once upon a time, there was a king and a queen in the world. They had a very handsome little boy, and they called him Ferko. He loved his mother so much that he always followed her wherever she went, so much so that sometimes the queen herself, hearing this great love, cried out, "Why do you follow me?"
But that didn't help either. Ferko took hold of his mother's dress and would not have let go, even if he had been beaten to death. Once the queen fell ill, and Ferko always kept vigil by her bedside, and could not be moved, neither by kind words nor threats, and when his mother died, they could hardly keep him in the house, for he would always go where his mother was buried.
There was a widow in that town, and she had three daughters, and they were always luring Ferko to their house, luring him until Ferko loved them, until he asked his father to marry the widow, and the king came upon her and married her.
Poor Ferko had no idea that his condition would suddenly take a turn for the worse, for as soon as they brought his stepmother home he was treated differently, always stuffing him with the best food, and then giving him the bread by the handful.
He bathed his own daughters in milk and butter, never even let them out to the wind, and he threw poor Ferko out among the servants, always living there. The king was busy with the business of the country, he thought little of how his son was being kept and what he was being fed.
Hey, if he had known that his wife was always trying to find a way to lose Ferko so that the country would be left to her daughters - he would have taken a different view. 'Here,' she said, 'you would never guess what has become of it.
One morning, a beautiful cow with a fine fleece went into the king's courtyard, went straight to the stable, stopped in front of the manger like a cow that knows how to walk, only she didn't tie the rope on her own horn! The all-seeing man was amazed to see what a wonder of God that cow was. What is he doing there? He ran straight to the king and told him the matter.
The king was mad when he heard it, for his wife had been telling him for three days that there were not enough milking cows, and he ordered them to tie him up with the other cows, and if there were no owner, he would be a good milking cow. So they tied her up in the stable, although the cow was none other than the dead first queen, the mother of Ferko, who had gone to the royal court in the guise of a cow with a bloody head to feed her son, because she saw that he was being treated very badly.
He had been there for a few days, but he could not help his son, for he did not go to the stable, but went in there one noon, perhaps a week later, to eat his own lunch, a piece of bran bread. There was no one in the stable, and little Ferko, as soon as he saw that no one was looking, began to cry, but so bitterly that the heart of the enemy would have been broken. The cow with the blood, as soon as she saw him, called him to her:
- "My dear son," she says to him, "I am your mother. I have come here in the form of a bloody cow to feed you because I have seen how badly you are treated. So never eat that bad bread after this, but give it to the dog, and yourself when you are hungry, just come here and I will feed you.
At this word he took his right horn, unwound it, and there was a table set like no other in the royal palace. Ferko was divinely well fed, and then went out, but his mother bade him tell no one, or they would lose them both, in any way or manner. Ferko didn't tell anyone, but from that day on he became such a blushing boy that he had to look for a mate.
The queen could not imagine what it was that Ferko was so healthy, and yet he had nothing but bran bread, and his daughters always lived on bread and cabbage, and yet they were uglier.
He also asked his daughters if they knew the reason for this. But they didn't know either. As soon as they were wondering about it, Ferko goes in again to ask them to give him bread, because he could eat; they give him a piece. Ferko runs with it straight to the stable. The queen says to her youngest daughter:
- Go, my daughter, see where that boy is putting all that bread.
The girl he told me had only one eye in the middle of her forehead, because - and I forgot to tell you this - these three girls were such wonderful creations of God that the smallest had one eye, the middle one had two, and the biggest one had three.
So now the one-eyed man went down to see Ferko, went to the stable, stopped at the door, and as soon as the cow saw him, he shouted at him:
- Come here, you daughter of a dog, let me hold you well! But first close thine eyes; and if they ask thee in there who feedeth Ferko, tell them not, for thou shalt die a death of death! Thou canst not say anything certain, for thine eyes were closed, thou sawest nothing.
The girl was so full that she could hardly move, and then she went up to her mother. They asked her what she had seen. But she did not dare to tell, she only said that she herself ate the bread, sat down by the manger and ate it so that she would choke.
The queen says to her middle daughter, who had two eyes:
- Come down, my daughter, you have more eyes, you may see more.
The middle girl came down, she also stopped in the stable door, and the cow with the bloody nose brought her in:
- Come in, you daughter of a dog, let me keep you well. But close your eyes first, so you can't see anything. And if you say anything in there, you'll die a death of death! Thou knowest nothing certain, thou canst see nothing.
This girl also stuffed herself, that she would burst, and then she went upstairs, but upstairs she didn't dare to say anything else, only that Ferko himself would eat all the bread. Then the oldest girl, who had three eyes, said:
- Mother, I'll go down, I have three eyes, I can see better.
His mother told him she didn't mind if he went downstairs. So the girl went down and stood in the stable door. The bloody cow invited him in:
- Come in, you daughter of a dog, let me keep you well, but first close your eyes!
The girl closed two eyes, but left the third, which was on the back of her head, open. She stood beside the cow, and saw that she had unscrewed her right horn, and there was a table laid that had no equal in the world.
The girl was well fed when she wanted to go upstairs, and the bloody cow ordered her not to dare to say anything in there, but the strong command was in vain, for the girl, having seen everything, was eager to go up to the palace; she told her mother all about it.
- Oh, mother, no wonder Ferko is so healthy! He lives on food and drink that we have never heard of, and with only the right horns being twisted off by that bloody cow - who is not a cow, but Ferko's mother, the first queen - there is a table set before the manger such as my mother has never seen. Ferko is rummaging about among all the expensive food; but we must think now of losing that bloody cow, for if we don't kill her, she will raise this child on our necks.
The Queen was frightened when she heard this. She wondered how to lose the bloody cow. She knew that it was a very dear animal to her master, and that it would not be easy to persuade him to slaughter it, and she thought about it until she came up with the clever idea.
- "Well, my daughter," he said to his eldest daughter, "that's how I thought it out. I am pretending to be very ill now, and when my lord comes home from the war (for the king was at war) he will certainly try to make me well; but I will not get out of bed till I have eaten of the heart of the bloody cow.
When the queen spoke, little Ferko was listening in the keyhole, and ran down to the bloody cow.
- Oh, Mother, they say this and that upstairs.
His mother replies:
- Never weep, my dear son, God is good, he is good, he will take care of you, but I will not let him slaughter me, but you know, when the butcher is called to slaughter me, ask your father in heaven and earth to let you slaughter me, if he will not let you, I will not let him take me, he will let you. Then you come to me, lift up the bar, but do not strike me, but throw it far away; and you jump on my back, and I will take you away, so that these dogs will never see you again.
Indeed, it happened just as it had been planned. The king came home from the war, and found his wife very ill. He was terrified that she was going to die, and he called together all the doctors and barbers in the country, all the old women and all the children in the seventh grade, to see if they could help her.
They would have cured the queen with all kinds of medicine, but she did not seem to have any.
One morning, the queen summons her lord to her house.
- "Hey, my dear sir," she says, "I dreamed last night what would cure me, but I dare not tell you, for I know you will not let me do it, and if I cannot eat of it, I shall die the third day.
- Of course I will allow it, my dear wife! Whatever I can do, I will do, if only you will get well. What, then, is there that will make you well?
- It's like the heart of a bloody cow, if I could just have a bite of it, I'd be cured.
- Oh, if that's all, I'll have that cow slaughtered in a minute, and her heart will be ready by noon. It was a pity to make such a fuss about it.
The king sent for butchers at once. The butchers came and led the cow out into the courtyard. As soon as they got outside, the cow ran wild, they couldn't catch her, she ran around, she thrashed, she wouldn't stop for a moment.
Little Ferko went to his father, and began to ask him to give him the cow; they would see if he would stop; at first the king did not care what his son said, but when he saw that the slaughterers could not manage the cow, he called to them:
- Come on, give this child the tagló, let's see what he can do with it.
Ferkó takes the plough in his hand, approaches the cow, and stops like a capital, not moving. Everyone was staring, what will become of it? Ferkó walked right up to the cow, lifted the tagló, and they were waiting to see how he would knock the cow down; suddenly he threw the tagló away, jumped on the back of the cow, and rolled away so fast that they never saw him again. Men on horseback followed him, but they could not even catch up with him.
From that hour the king became unfortunate in everything. His regiment was beaten and destroyed, his flock and his herd were all destroyed, everything he had was gone, his wife was destroyed, the three daughters for sale were spoiled, in short, when Ferko left the royal house, God's blessing left him, the king was a wastrel, the queen and her daughters were wastrels.
And the bloody cow went and went, and went against seven and seven countries with little Ferko. He went on until he came out of the king's country, and there he stopped and got Ferko off his back.
- "Well, my boy," said he, "you stay here, I'm going out to graze for a while, for I'm hungry, and if anybody wants me, tell them I've gone to eat green chaff at green chaff time, and if you have any trouble, here's this whistle, blow it, I'll be right back.
The bloody cow is gone. But no sooner had he gone, than a big wolf appeared next to Ferko.
- So, you dog, where is your mother dog?
- He went to eat green chips in the green chips' time.
- Well, when he comes home, tell him to come to the copper bridge with me tomorrow to fight.
As soon as the wolf left, Ferkó blew the whistle, and there was his mother.
- Well, son, what's the matter with you?
- Well, there was a big wolf here, looking for you, telling you to go fight with him tomorrow on the copper bridge.
- Let him speak, I won't listen to him, I'm going to graze a little more, because I haven't had a good night's rest yet.
No sooner had he gone than there was another big bear.
- So, you dog, where is your mother dog?
- He went to eat green chips in the green chips' time.
- Well, when he comes home, tell him to come to the silver bridge with me tomorrow to fight.
Ferko blew the whistle again; there was his mother.
- Well, my boy, what's the matter with you again?
- Well, there was a big bear, looking for Kend, and he told Kend to go to the silver bridge tomorrow to fight with him.
- Well, my son, God forbid that you should ever get into more trouble than this, it will be all right. But I'll go away a little more, for I have not lived well.
No sooner had he left than a big, angry lion appeared.
- Well, you dog, you dog's bastard, where's your mother with the battle-horse?
- He went to eat green chips in the green chips' time.
- Well, when he comes home, tell him I was here. But now, though he have a thousand souls, he must die, and come with me to the golden bridge to-morrow to fight.
Ferko blows the whistle; there stands the cow with the bloody cow, muddy and tired.
- Well, my boy, is there trouble again?
- Trouble indeed, my mother! Here was a big, angry lion, and he said that tomorrow he should go to the Golden Bridge to fight with him.
- Well, my boy, if it's against me, I'll have to die, because I can't handle that angry animal. But when we go out to-morrow to the golden bridge, you come out too, and stand by the bridge, and when I see the lion indeed overcome, I will throw my right horn, and you take it up and run away with it, but don't look into it till you come to some great city, and there you can look into it, and see what will become of it.
They said goodbye the next day. They went sadly to the golden bridge, where the lion was already waiting for them, they clashed with the cow, they fought for a long time, the lion won the last time, and the cow threw away her right horn. Ferkó picked it up and ran with it until he came under a town, and there he looked inside, and - believe it or not - such a big sheep's mouth came out of it that you couldn't see the edge or the length. And poor Ferko was in trouble, he didn't know what to do with all those sheep, he couldn't handle them, and he had no shepherd. As he was thinking, a big dog came up to him and said:
- I see my master has no shepherd. Take me in, I'll keep the flock.
- "I don't mind," says Ferko, "what would you like?
- If my master would let me eat six sheep, I would come in.
- Well, I don't mind, but then serve faithfully!
The dog started to eat, but by the time he had eaten his sixth, he had burst; Ferkó was without a shepherd again. Besides, he was very sad to be left alone like this; he had no one under the round sky, and that made him even more discouraged. As he was moping there, a wolf came to him.
- "Oh, how sad, my master!" she says to him.
- I shall never be in a good humour in this life; you see, I have no shepherd to look after this flock.
- That is a big problem! But you know what, master? I've thought it over, and he says he'll never be merry again; so I'll be a shepherd, and keep the flock faithfully, if he promises to give me the head as soon as he's merry.
- "Here's my hand," said Ferko, for he himself thought that he could never be cheerful again.
From that hour the wolf guarded the flock loyally, for he thought that if his master ever had a good temper, he would eat it, and the flock would remain his; and Ferkó sold a good many sheep, and had a great palace built with the proceeds. He lived in the great manor.
There lived in that city a very rich king, and he had no other children, only one beautiful and fair daughter. This king once gave a great ball, and invited Ferko to it. So Ferko went: he had a suit of gold and gold-paste made for him, and he took it and went away.
When he entered the door, everyone stared at him, and all the princesses whispered to each other that they had never seen such a handsome man; but Ferkó did not look at them, but went straight to the princess, asked her to dance, and after the dance he talked to her.
He told her the whole story of his life, that he was a prince and everything that had happened to him, and they fell so much in love that night that they vowed never to leave each other again.
The next day Ferkó asked the king for his daughter, the king agreed, they swore an oath, and they had a great feast. But just when they were having the most fun, the wolf came in and said that he had come for the bridegroom's head, and then Ferko remembered his vow, and he and his bride were very frightened. They ran to their royal fathers in a great fright, and told him the whole thing. The king laughed a great laugh.
- Well, you just stay here, and I'll pay my wolf master - and he went out; he had nine big tomcats, and he gave them nine loaves of wheat, and when they had eaten them, he pushed them on the wolf; they tore them up like nothing.
Then they had another big feast. They are still alive, if they are not dead.
(László Arany: Hungarian folk tales)
