The Princess and the sea T rês filhas tinha o rei. E as três queria casar. Há anos esperava paciente que crescessem, dia a dia medindo-lhe...
The Princess and the sea
Há anos esperava paciente que crescessem, dia a dia medindo-lhes a altura e sopesando-lhes as tranças. Há anos pensava nos genros que lhe trariam, a ele que não tendo filhos homens precisava de espadas.
Afinal, seu olhar lhe disse que a primeira filha estava pronta. E a paciência deixou de ser necessária. Imediatamente mandou chamar o mais antigo e fiel de seus embaixadores e, diante da corte reunida, deu-lhe a ordem que pretendia vir a repetir mais duas vezes: que mandasse pintar o retrato da princesa e o levasse as cortes vizinhas em busca daquele que a faria rainha.
Logo, o Grande Pintor do Reino apresentou-se com seus longos pincéis, seus vidros de tintas e sua pequena barba. A princesa, vestida com ricas roupas, sentou-se para posar. Porém, passados dias e pronto o retrato, a corte desapontada sacudiu a cabeça. O quadro era belo, mas a princesa, ah! a princesa era muito mais bela que o quadro.
Decapitado, sem demora, aquele que ousara enfear a filha do Rei , um novo Grande Pintor foi nomeado para herdar cores e tarefa. Novamente a princesa posou e ricas eram suas roupas. Mas novamente a corte sacudiu a cabeça diante do resultado. Dessa vez, de cenho franzido. A beleza da jovem havia ficado ainda mais distante.
Ao terceiro Grande Pintor bastou olhar a princesa para concluir que não era tão grande quanto dele se esperava. Sozinho, foi entregar-se ao carrasco.
E eis que não havia mais pintores no reino, nem Grandes nem pequenos. Ou, se os havia, tratavam de esconder-se.
— Que isso não me impeça de cumprir a ordem — disse o Embaixador ao Rei que já se inquietava — levarei o retrato de outra maneira.
Escolheu no tesouro real a mais linda pérola, guardou-a num cofre pequeno, e partiu em sua carruagem rumo às distantes fronteiras do Norte.
Longa, a viagem. Quando, enfim, chegou ao castelo daquele monarca, chegava com ele o inverno.
— Que mais me trouxe além da neve, Senhor? — perguntou-lhe o castelão do alto do trono.
O Embaixador contou-lhe então da filha do Rei. Que estava madura para casar. E quando o monarca pediu para ver o seu retrato, aproximou-se, abriu o cofre pequeno e, sobre o fundo de veludo, exibiu a pérola.
— Assim é ela — disse, em voz alta, para que todos ouvissem. E erguendo a pérola acrescentou : — Bela, rara, pálida. E preciosa.
No dia seguinte, partia de volta o Embaixador, para levar ao Rei a boa nova. A primeira das sua filha seria Rainha das Terras do Norte.
Sem que muito tempo tivesse passado, já o Rei ordenava ao Embaixador que mandasse pintar o retrato da segunda filha e o levasse à corte do Sul.
— Pintar não é possível, sem pintor — respondeu o Embaixador. E acrescentou: — Outro é o retrato que levarei. Recusando a chave do tesouro que o Rei lhe estendia, desceu aos jardins, aproximou-se da mais linda roseira, cortou com o punhal o botão mais perfeito, que protegeu debaixo do manto. Em seguida entrou na carruagem e partiu.
Demorada, a viagem. Quando chegou ao castelo daquele monarca , o verão chegava com ele.
— Que mais me trouxe, Senhor, além do sol? — perguntou-lhe o castelão do alto do trono.
Então o Embaixador contou como o Rei o havia enviado porque a segunda de suas filhas estava madura para casar. E quando o castelão pediu para ver seu retrato, tirou o botão que havia desabrochado, e exibiu à corte a mais linda das rosas.
— Ela é assim — disse, bem alto, para ser ouvido por todos. — Delicada, suave, rósea. A mais nobre entre todas.
Fez uma pausa, procurou com um sorriso o olhar do monarca, e acrescentou : — E tem seus espinhos.
O pretendente hesitou. Mas era pouca a ameaça diante de tão linda flor.
Já no dia seguinte partia o Embaixador para levar a boa nova ao seu Rei, a segunda filha seria Rainha das Terras do Sul.
Mal havia chegado, e o Rei ordenou que levasse à corte do Oeste o retrato da filha menor. “E que retrato será esse?” perguntava-se curioso.
Nem tesouro. Nem jardim. O Embaixador olhou a princesa que conhecia desde menina, olhou longamente a moça que ela havia se tornado. Depois, tomando um grande jarro de vidro, foi enche-lo no mar.
Protegeu o frasco em uma bolsa de couro macio. Subiu na carruagem. E partiu pela terceira vez.
Íngreme a viagem. E lenta, rumo às fronteiras montanhosas. Quando enfim chegou ao castelo no alto da mais alto montanha daquele reino, a tempestade chegava com ele.
— Senhor — disse o castelão em seu trono — , além da borrasca, que mais me trouxe?
— Trouxe-lhe a notícia de que a terceira filha do meu Rei está madura para casar — respondeu o Embaixador, contando ainda como a conhecia desde pequena, como a havia visto crescer.
E quando o monarca pediu para ver como ela era, adiantou-se, abriu a bolsa macia, tirou o frasco, levantando-o bem alto para que todos vissem. — Ela é como o mar — disse lentamente — Profunda e misteriosa. Cheia de riquezas escondidas. Seus movimentos obedecem à lua.
O monarca, que nunca havia visto o mar, olhava para o frasco e não via nada que correspondesse às palavras do Embaixador. Diate da corte havia apenas um frasco cheio de água transparente, sem segredos de peixes ou estrelas, sem conchas, sem ondas. Água apenas, entre vidro. Nem sequer azul. Uma esposa assim para que quereria?
Na manhã seguinte, ao partir, o Embaixador levava consigo o monarca. Desceram e desceram pelos caminhos pedregosos, até o mar. E chegando ao mar, apearam os dois, caminharam pela areia. A espuma alcançava suas botas sem que o monarca se decidisse a voltar. Ali estava o retrato, do qual não conseguia afastar os olhos. Mas por fim, subjugado, murmurou:
— Ela é grande demais para mim.
Pela primeira vez o Embaixador regressou trazendo uma má notícia para o seu Rei. A terceira filha não seria Rainha das Montanhas do Oeste.
O tempo não para porque uma filha de Rei está sem marido. Assim, suas irmãs casaram, bordaram pequenos enxovais, seus filhos nasceram. E estavam começando a engatinhar, quando chegou ao castelo a notícia que no horizonte do Leste, onde não havia fronteira porque o Reino terminava no mar, uma vela havia surgido.
Cavaleiros velozes entregaram no castelo a informação de que um grande barco trazendo o Monarca dos Homens Navegadores acabava de atracar. E que este se aproximava com seus guerreiros.
Preparou-se a defesa. Quando os estrangeiros chegaram, centenas de olhos escondidos espiaram por trás das seteiras. Mas os guerreiros traziam as espadas embainhadas, presos os escudos nos arreios.
— O que o traz, Senhor, além dos bons ventos? — perguntou o Rei do alto do seu trono, quando o Monarca Navegador chegou finalmente à sua frente.
Então o visitante contou como havia sabido que a mais jovem das princesas estava madura para casar. Como, sem tê-la visto, a conhecia desde sempre. Como, conhecendo-a, queria casar com ela.
E porque o Rei parecia não entender, adiantou-se e abriu a camisa. Depois voltou-se para que todos vissem. E todos viram. Tatuados em seu peito, peixes e conchas entrelaçavam-se na ondas, estrelas-do-mar deixavam-se levar pela espuma.
— Aqui está o seu retrato — disse, alto, para que todos ouvissem — gravado sobre o meu coração.
A terceira filha do Rei também ouviu. Olhou para aqueles olhos, azuis de tanto de debruçarem sobe a água. E soube, com quanta alegria soube, que seu marido havia chegado.
***
For years he had been waiting patiently that they would grow, day by day measuring their height and weighting their tresses. For years he had been thinking about the sons-in-law they would bring, to him, who, having no sons, needed swords.
At last, his eyes told him that the first daughter was ready. And the patience was not necessary anymore. Immediately, he sent for the oldest, most loyal of his ambassadors and, before the assembled court, gave him the order he intended to repeat twice more: to commission a portrait of the princess and take it to the neighboring kingdoms in search of the one that would make her queen.
Soon, The Great Painter of the Kingdom presented himself with his long brushes, his pots of paint and his small beard. The princess, dressed in rich clothes, sat down to pose. However, after days gone by and being the portrait ready, the members of the court, disappointed, shook their heads. The painting was beautiful, but the princess, oh!, the princess was much more beautiful than the painting.
Beheaded, without delay, the one who had dared to uglify the King’s daughter, a new Great Painter was nominated, to inherit colors and task. Once more the princess posed, and rich were her clothes. But once again the members of the court shook their heads before the result. This time, with a frown. The beauty of the young lady had become even more distant.
To the third Great Painter it sufficed to look at the princess to conclude that he wasn’t as great as it was expected from him. By his own volition, he turned himself in to the executioner.
And, behold, there were no more painters in the kingdom, neither Great nor small. Or, if there were, they were hiding.
— This shall not prevent me from fulfilling the order — said the Ambassador to the King, who was already getting restless. — I will take another kind of portrait.
He selected from the royal treasure the most beautiful pearl, put it in a small chest, and drove away in his carriage towards the distant borders of the North.
Long, the journey. When at last he arrived at the castle of that monarch, with him arrived winter.
— What else do you bring me, besides the snow, Sir? — asked him the keeper of the castle from high up on the throne.
The Ambassador then told him about the King’s daughter. That she was ready to marry. And, when the monarch asked to see her portrait, he approached, opened the little chest and, on the velvet bottom, showed the pearl.
— Thus is she — he said, out loud, so that everyone could hear. And, raising the pearl, he added: — Beautiful, rare, pale. And precious.
On the next day, away went the Ambassador to give the good news to the King. The first of his daughters would be Queen of the Northern Lands.
Before long, already the King ordered the Ambassador to commission the portrait of the second daughter and take it to the southern kingdom.
— It is not possible to paint it, no painter — replied the Ambassador. And added: — The portrait I will take will be of another kind.
Refusing the key to the treasure that the King offered him, he went down to the gardens, approached the most beautiful rosebush, cut with his dagger the most perfect bud, which he protected under his cloak. Then, he climbed the carriage and drove off.
Lengthy, the journey. When at last he arrived at the castle of that monarch, with him arrived summer.
— What else do you bring me, Sir, besides the sun? — asked him the keeper of the castle from high up on the throne.
The Ambassador then told him how the King had sent him because the second of his daughters was ready to be married. And, when the keeper of the castle asked to see her portrait, he took from under the cloak the bud that had blossomed, and showed to the court the most beautiful of roses.
— Thus is she — he said, very loud, so that everyone could hear. — Delicate, soft, rosy. The noblest amongst all.
He made a pause, searched with a smile the eyes of the monarch, and added: — And she has her thorns.
The suitor hesitated. But the threat was small before such a beautiful flower.
Already the next day, off went the Ambassador to take the good news to the King. The second daughter would be Queen of the Southern Lands.
He had barely arrived and the King ordered him to take the portrait of his youngest daughter to the kingdom to the West. “And what will this portrait be?”, the King wondered, curious.
Neither treasure. Nor garden. The Ambassador looked at the princess that he knew since she was a little girl, looked at the young woman she had become. Then, taking a big glass bottle, went to fill it in the sea.
He protected the bottle in a soft leather pouch. He climbed into the carriage. And away he went for the third time.
Steep, the journey. And slow, towards the rangy borders. When at last he arrived at the castle on the top of the highest mountain on that kingdom, the storm arrived with him.
— Sir — asked the keeper of the castle on his throne —, besides the squall, what else did you bring me?
— I brought you the news that the third daughter of my King is ready to get married — answered the Ambassador, also telling how he knew her since she was little, how he had seen her grow.
And when the monarch asked what she looked like, he stepped forward, opened the soft pouch, took out the bottle raising it high, for all to see.
— She is like the ocean — he said slowly. — Deep and mysterious. Full of hidden riches. Her movements obey the Moon.
The monarch, that had never seen the ocean, looked at the bottle and didn’t see anything that matched the words of the Ambassador. Before the court there was only a bottle full of clear water, without secrets of fish or stars, without seashells, without waves. Water, only, contained by glass. Not even blue. A wife like this, why would he want?
The next morning, upon leaving, the Ambassador took with him the monarch. Down and down they went through the rocky paths, until they reached the sea. And, having arrived at the sea, they both dismounted, walked around in the sand. The foam reached their boots without the monarch deciding to go back. There it was, the portrait from which he could not avert his eyes. But at last, subdued, he muttered:
— She is too big for me.
For the first time the Ambassador came back bringing bad news for his King. The third daughter wouldn’t be Queen of the Western Mountains.
Time doesn’t stop because the daughter of a King doesn’t have a husband. Thus, her sisters got married, embroidered little trousseaus, their children were born. And they were beginning to crawl when news arrived at the castle that on the eastern horizon, where there were no borders because the Kingdom ended at the sea, a sail had appeared.
Fast horsemen delivered at the castle the information that a big ship bringing the Monarch of the Sailing Men had just berthed. And that he was coming with his warriors.
The defense was prepared. When the foreigners arrived, hundreds of hidden eyes peeked from behind the arrow slits. But the warriors had their swords sheathed, their shields tied to the harnesses.
— What bring you, Sir, besides the good winds? — asked the king from high up on his throne when the Sailing Monarch finally arrived before him.
Then the visitor told him how he had heard that the youngest of the princesses was ready to get married. How, without seeing her, he had known her forever. How, having known her, he wanted to marry her.
And because the King didn’t seem to understand, he stepped forward, opened up his shirt. Then he turned for all to see. And all saw. Tattooed on his chest, fish and seashells intertwined with the waves, starfish allowed themselves to be carried by the foam.
— Here is your portrait — he said, loud, for all to hear — imprinted on my heart.
The King’s third daughter also heard. She looked at those eyes, blue from contemplating the water so much. And she knew, with so much joy she knew, that her husband had arrived.
Tradução: Fabiana Colasanti
Ilustração: Marina Colasanti
Ilustração: Marina Colasanti