Valentine's Day Legend

At the heart of France is situated a very romantic village of Saint-Valentin. Every year, the village comes to life in the run-up to February 14, when locals decorate their houses with hearts and flowers.

February 14 is worldwide recognized as Valentine’s Day. During the Middle Ages, it was believed that birds paired in mid-February. This was then associated with the romance of Valentine. There are many legends associated with Valentine, many of them created in the 18^th century. Here is one from the 20^th century.

Once there was a boy named Valentine. At his birth, he received a beautiful bow and a set of gold-tipped arrows from his famous goldsmith uncle. As soon as Valentine could walk and his hands and arms were strong enough, his uncle taught him how to use the bow and arrows.

They set up a target and practiced shooting at it, but never at any birds or animals of the forest. Valentine loved all animals and his favorite became a bluebird once he learned from his uncle about the rarest of all birds, the golden bluebird, believed to have a heart of gold.

One day, when Valentine ventured into the forest on his own, he noticed a gold-flecked bluebird. “It is the golden bluebird!” He admired the bird greatly.

Meanwhile, a king who reigned over the land fell deeply in love with a beautiful princess of a nearby kingdom. As he confessed his desire, she asked him for token of his love. “I’ve heard about the most beautiful bluebird with a heart of gold. Bring me the heart and I shall marry you.”

The king called upon his wise man as he had no idea how to find this rare bird. The wise man looked through his books and announced, “This bluebird can be obtained only by the hunter with the golden arrows.”

The king demanded all his messengers to look for the boy with golden arrows. One of them, soon after, came across Valentine wandering the forest. “What a good fortune,” spoke the messenger. “I see you have the golden arrows. The king wishes you to shoot the bluebird for its golden heart.”

“But I have never shot a bird or any animal of the forest,” protested Valentine.

“You must. That’s what the king demands,” replied the messenger.

“I can’t. It would break my heart,” objected Valentine.

“Either you do it or I will have to take you to the palace dungeon,” retorted the messenger.

With his head down, Valentine was led to the palace dungeon. The dungeon was dark and cold. Valentine tossed on a pile of straw during the night. For a moment he thought that he had heard a flutter of wings, but quickly thought to himself that there were no birds in such place. Moment later, the wings fluttered again and a voice spoke, “I’ve come to save you.”

“Who is there?” asked the boy.

“Your friend, the bluebird.”

“I thought I’d never see you again, but you can’t help me,” answered Valentine.

“Yes, I can. I brought you a golden heart made by your uncle. Look!” chirped the bird.

The most beautiful bright heart sparkled within the dark walls of the dungeon. “Thank you my dear friend,” said Valentine.

As soon as the first light reached the cell, the keeper of the dungeon appeared.

“Here is the golden heart,” presented the boy.

The keeper set the boy free and rushed to the castle to deliver the heart.

“It is exquisite,” gasped the king. “I hope the princess will accept this heart as it is not real as she requested it.”

The king mounted his fastest horse and rode off at great speed.

He found her sitting in the garden feeding the birds. Holding out his gift, he said, “My beloved here is my token. I hope it pleases you.”

“It does, indeed,” replied the princess. “I’ve been watching the birds in my garden and felt great shame in my request.”

Overjoyed, the king told the princess the story of Valentine.

“We should honor this brave young man,” suggested the princess.

“It shall be so,” announced the king. “From now on, the fourteenth of February shall be known as Valentine’s Day.”

“And all lovers shall give a heart, fashioned in any manner, to their beloved,” added the princess.

 

Source: A Valentine Fantasy by Carolyn Haywood

Ashpet - Appalachian Tale

Appalachian Mountains are a range of mountains stretching across eastern North America. One of its peaks is called Eagle’s Nest Mountain. It overlooks Lake Junaluska. At its shore in the shadow of the mountain once stood a lodge, taking us the story of Cinderella.

The story of Cinderella is very old. The earliest version is of Chinese origin and dates back to 850 A.D. Since, then hundreds of variants have been collected from around the world. The Grimm Brothers recorded the German version of “Aschenputtel.” Most likely the European settlers brought a similar version to the Southern Appalachian area of America and eventually told it as “Asphet.”

A long time ago, in a cabin located deep in the Southern Appalachian Mountains lived a servant girl called Ashpet. She was hired by the Widow Hooper and her two daughters, Myrtle and Ethel, to help with the household chores.

Every summer, the folk of Eagle’s Nest Mountain gathered for a big church meeting. The Widow and her two daughters always dressed their best, leaving Asphet with all imaginable chores: washing, ironing, and mending. The poor girl was so overworked that she didn’t notice that the fire had gone out in the fireplace.

Next morning, furious Widow sent her younger daughter to old Granny’s house to borrow some fire.

“Why can’t Ashpet go?” complained Myrtle. “She’s supposed to do all the chores.”

“She can’t go,” yelled the Widow. “She has to finish preparing our dresses.”

Myrtle approached the old Granny’s house and yelled, “I came for some fire!”

A scratchy voice echoed from the house, “Why don’t you come in and brush my hair first.”

“I’m not brushing your hair!” hollered Myrtle and left.

When she came back empty handed, it almost sent the Widow into a fit.

“Ethel!” she yelled, “run to Granny’s and fetch some fire.”

Ethel didn’t do any better as she didn’t want to comb Granny’s hair neither. And returned empty handed.

The Widow exploding with rage threw Ashpet out the door and commanded, “You better come back with some fire!”

Ashpet approached the cabin and knocked softly on the front door.

“Who is it?”

“My name is Ashpet, and I was sent to borrow some fire,” answered the girl.

“Why don’t you come in and brush my hair first,” asked Granny.

Ashpet went inside, picked up a brush and combed the old lady’s long hair.

“Are you going to the big church meeting,” asked Granny.

“Don’t reckon I will. I’m just a serving girl with all the chores to do and no time left for myself.”

Granny smiled and kept her thoughts to herself. Instead she said, “Why don’t you help yourself with the fire.”

Ashpet started a new fire at the house and heated a pot of water. The mother and sisters bathed and Asphet helped them with dresses.

As soon as they were gone, Granny appeared at the door.

“Knock, knock, why don’t you meet me outside?”

Ashpet did as asked. Granny poked her head inside the house, murmured something under her nose, and tapped her walking stick three times on the floor. The cabin shook. Furniture scrapped. Dishes rattled. When the door flew open, Ashpet peered inside. The cabin was spotless: the floor was swept, the dishes were washed and dried, the clothes were cleaned and folded, the beds were made. And even there was a new dress, spread on a chair, red as the ripest raspberries and red shoes matching the color of the dress stood by the chair.

“Don’t you stand and stare. Change your clothes and catch up with the others. But remember be back before midnight.” And with that the old woman was gone.

In a blink of an eye, Ashpet cleaned up and fit her new dress and shoes. And she danced her way to the meeting.

After the church sermon, the folk set outside for picnic. The Widow and her two daughters approached the doctor’s son to join them. But he already had his eyes on Ashpet and asked her to accompany him. The mother and sisters flew into a temper and left the picnic.

Time slipped on by as Ashpet and the young man walked and talked and laughed. Just as they were strolling by the river and crossing a small bridge, a yellow moon and tiny stars lighted the dark sky, reminding Ashpet of the time. She quickly kicked one of her shoes off into the bushes.

“Oh, I lost my shoe,” she declared.

As soon as the doctor’s son turned around to search for the shoe, Ashpet took off through the woods.

The next morning the Widow questioned the girl about her whereabouts last night, but before Ashpet could utter a word, Myrtle yelled, “Mother, mother, the doctor’s son is approaching our house.”

“What are you waiting for!” yelled the mother. “Get dress quickly.”

“You!” she pointed her finger at Ashpet. “You hide under the washtub and don’t you dare to peek out.”

“Knock, knock, Widow Hooper. Can I come in? I won’t take much of your time.”

“Of course, come in and stay as long as you wish.”

The doctor’s son explained that he searched every cabin already looking for the girl who lost her shoe last night.

“I’m sure it belongs to one of my daughters,” declared the Widow.

Ethel came down. She pushed and shoved and twisted her foot, but the shoe just wouldn’t fit.

Then Myrtle came down. She snatched the shoe and crammed and pushed her foot into it, but her foot was too long and wouldn’t fit the shoe.

“I thank you both,” said the young man and when he was about to leave, a big black bird flew in. Snatched the shoe and flew over the washtub. The doctor’s son trying to catch the shoe, tripped over the washtub and knocked it right side up. There sat Ashpet, wearing the other shoe.

“I think I found the girl I’ve been looking for,” smiled the young man.

Without looking back, Ashpet walked out the door to marry the doctor’s son.

 

Source: Ashpet retold by Joanne Compton