THE SNAKE BRIDE

Once upon a time, there was a young man who set out to seek his fortune. One chill autumn morning, he was walking through the mountains when he came to an old and rotten beech tree that stood in the middle of a web of gnarled roots. As he walked past, he tripped over a root and fell into a deep hole.

It was dark at the bottom of the hole, but he could make out some long, thin shapes weaving around him, and he could hear the sound of hissing and spitting. At once, he realised that he had fallen into a nest of snakes, disturbing their winter rest, and he froze in fear. He stayed as still as he could in the same spot for three days, not daring to move and with no food to eat, until his belly ached with hunger and his body grew stiff and sore. Then a snake slithered over to him, holding something in its fangs, and dropped it into his hand. It was a beautiful coloured stone.

"Here," hissed the snake, "Lick this precious stone, and you won't be hungry any longer."

The young man licked the stone, and his hunger vanished. His belly felt comfortably full, and he was no longer afraid. So he stayed there with the snakes in the hole over the winter, safe and warm in the darkness, drifting in and out of dream.

Three months passed, and the weather warmed. Spring came. The earth blossomed, and it was time for the snakes to go out into the world once more. The snake king sent them in different directions, ordering each one exactly where to go.

Among the snakes, there was one that could change shape into a maiden. This snake maiden was called Stana.

"Stana," said the king of the snakes, "You will go to the village of Shtavlyak. At harvest time, the priest will gather a group of reapers. When the first sheaf has been prepared, hide yourself beneath it. A cloud will appear in the sky, and the reapers will say, 'This is the priest's wheat field. Let his daughter come and lift the first sheaf.' When she lifts the sheaf, spit into her eyes and suck out her sight."

As soon as the snake king had finished his instructions, Stana slithered up a tree root, out of the hole and into the world above. The boy followed soon afterwards, and he, too, set out for the village of Shtavlyak. It was a long journey, and he arrived there just before the harvest was due to begin. He went to the priest.

"God be with you, grandfather priest," he said, "I've come to reap for you."

"I've already hired some reapers," the priest replied. "I can't pay for more."

"You don't need to pay me," said the young man. "I just want to help with the harvest." That pleased the priest greatly, so of course, he agreed.

Early next morning, the young man joined the band of reapers. They set to work in the priest's field, scything the tall golden wheat. It was hard work. The wheat was heavy with grain, and the naked sun beat down upon their backs from a cloudless blue sky. The reapers sang as they swung their scythes, and the cut wheat fell in rhythm beneath their blades.

They reaped all day, and when all the wheat lay on the ground, they bound it into sheaves. The first sheaf was special, so they bound it with red thread, when suddenly a cloud appeared in the bare blue sky.

"This is the priest's field," the reapers said. "Let his daughter come and lift the first sheaf."

The priest's daughter came over to lift the sheaf, but the boy stepped in front of her.

"Please," he said, "Let me do this." He lifted the sheaf and at once, up leapt the snake that had been lying in wait beneath. She went straight for his eyes, her jaws gaping wide to suck them from his sockets, but he was ready for her. He caught her with a forked stick and flung her to the ground. She lay there, twisting and writhing on the wheat stubble, hissing and spitting forth venom.

"Stand up, Stana," cried the boy. "Be what you used to be! Be what you used to be! Be what you used to be!" Three times he uttered the words, and at once the snake rose before him, straightening herself until she stood upright on her tail and transformed into a beautiful maiden. The reapers were amazed. What kind of a miracle was this! The lad had saved the priest's daughter from a snake, and now a beautiful young woman had suddenly appeared. They had a lot to talk about when they went home!

The young man turned to Stana. "Marry me," he said. "Come with me and be my bride."

Stana thought for a moment. "Yes, I will marry you," she said, "I will be a woman now, and I will stay with you in human form as long as you never call me scrapa (snake). But if ever you say that word, I will become a snake again."

So, the two were married and they lived happily together. They never argued; good fortune blessed them, and the young man never once called his wife scrapa. In time, they had a child, a daughter whom they loved dearly.

The years passed, and their daughter grew into a fine young woman. One day, she met a fine young man. Love blossomed, and a wedding soon followed. It was a day overflowing with joy, and the whole village gathered to celebrate, with much feasting, drinking and dancing.

Stana was so happy that she danced the horo tirelessly, her feet nimble over the ground as the line of dancers snaked, coiled and uncoiled again. Her husband watched in admiration.

"All these years that Stana and I have been together, and I've never called her scrapa," he thought to himself. "I wonder what will happen if I say it now. Surely it won't matter after all this time!"

He said it out loud. "Look at our scrapa! How beautifully she dances."

As soon as he spoke the word scrapa, Stana's body flattened. It grew long and thin. Her legs merged, and her curves straightened. She became a snake, dropping to the ground like a piece of rope and slithering through the crowd down into the cellar, where she coiled up in a basket of logs. The guests followed her.

"Come back, Stana," they pleaded. "Come back to us! Be human again!" But she was silent, except for the flicking of her tongue. At last, she spoke, hissing and spitting venom.

"Let whoever dares, kiss me between my two eyes. Only then will I be as I was before."

The crowd fell silent. No one dared to kiss this fierce, angry snake, not even Stana's husband. He feared her because he had done what she had asked him never to do.

Her son-in-law, the newcomer to the family, stepped forward. He knelt in front of her, leaned towards her and gently kissed her between her two black eyes. At once, the snake rose before him, straightened herself to her full height, and in one sudden moment, the snake was gone. There, in its place, stood the beautiful Stana in human form again.

She looked at her son-in-law, and her heart was full of love for him, for what he had done. He had been fearless. He had understood her, and that is why, from that day to this, a mother-in-law loves her son-in-law the best.

Author's notes

The story does not fit either the standard Aarne-Thompson-Uther or the Eberhard-Borat catalogue of folk tale types that is used by folklorists in the West to classify the huge variety of folk tales.

The shape-shifting snake maiden reflects aspects of the Thracian Great Goddess in her serpent form. She has the power to destroy, but also to create - she gives birth to a daughter.

Intriguingly, her son-in-law is the only man brave enough to kiss her between her eyes. That would make him worthy to become her new lover, if he and she so wished, replacing her husband. It's tempting to over-interpret here and see the theme of the sacred marriage between the Great Goddess and her son, and the replacement of the "old king" by a new one.