Sofia Prokofieva barefoot princess. The Barefoot Princess read online - Sofia Prokofieva What the Barefoot Princess dreams of

A tired traveler, driving along the South Road, hurried his horse. As soon as he saw Alzaron Castle from afar on a high green hill, the traveler took a deep breath with relief. He knew: the owner of the castle, King Unger, was generous and hospitable. The high doors will open, a festive dinner awaits the wanderer, the best wine from the cellar, or even a conversation after midnight with a hospitable host.

Alzaron Castle was so high that passing clouds often clung to its patterned spiers. And therefore, I involuntarily recalled an ancient legend, as if the Alzaron castle was built from blue and dark blue marble by giants who in ancient times settled on the mountain pass between the Southern and Northern Valleys.

There is a garden around the castle, famous for its rare flowers and trees.

And today, as always, King Unger, looking at the cloudless sky, surrounded by a large retinue, went out into the garden.

Immediately the Court Sparrow sat on his shoulder. The bird looked like a fighter, its tail had been plucked in fights. He chirped something excitedly and excitedly in the king's ear.

- That's enough, that's enough! What are you talking about? – the king affectionately stroked Sparrow’s ruffled feathers. – Judge for yourself, where could Prince Gorra and the Duke of Aldmer have gone?

Of all those living in the palace, only one king took the trouble to learn the sparrow language, finding it very euphonious and peculiar. He talked for a long time with his pet. But the dukes and barons surrounding the king looked disdainfully at the mongrel bird.

“It’s good that our king has a tame falcon.” This is truly a royal bird!

- But to bring some rootless, plucked sparrow closer to you...

“Besides, he’s talkative and so stupid!”

– He doesn’t know the rules of etiquette at all!

So the courtiers whispered, but, of course, none of them dared to say a word to the king.

The king ordered the ladies of the court to knock on the door of the bedchamber of his beloved daughter Princess Melisende and invite her to walk with him on this cloudless morning.

A wide marble staircase descended in a semicircle into the garden. Soon the sound of light heels was heard, and Princess Melisende ran down the steps.

And immediately the sounds of a distant thin flute sounded louder, the grasshoppers in the grass began to chirp more cheerfully, and the birds on the branches, each singing their own song, sang together all together.

The wind, a naughty and prankster, calmed down and lay down in rings at the feet of the princess.

- Well, what do you say? - King Unger said touched, looking at his daughter. His eyes were full of tears. – Where else will you find such a beauty?

The king could not look at Princess Melisende without emotion.

And to tell the truth, a more charming Princess Melisende could not be found in any kingdom.

Her captivating face was as delicate as the petals of a newly blooming flower. Large gray eyes beamed and sparkled from under long eyelashes. Hair the color of golden honey fell over her shoulders and slid down to satin shoes embroidered with pearls.

-Where are your suitors, my daughter? – King Unger asked, looking around in surprise. -Where is Prince Gorra, where is the Duke of Aldmer? They have been here since evening.

“I refused them,” the princess answered quietly, lowering her eyes. “And she returned the wedding gifts to them.”

– But leaving without saying goodbye? – the king shrugged. - Strange, strange!.. And where is your chosen one, Prince Amedee, in this case?

“He went to his father to receive his blessing,” a light blush colored the princess’s cheeks, and she became even more charming. - He should be back tomorrow.

Colorful butterflies, without ceasing, circled over Melisende's head. They fell on her long eyelashes, mistaking them for some strange flowers, and her golden hair for rare herbs full of honey. Melisende laughed away the butterflies, and they sprinkled colorful pollen on her hands.

Suddenly, as if a sudden gust of wind, the butterflies swept up, and they, huddled in a shapeless flock, hastily disappeared into the depths of the garden.

The clatter of hooves was heard, and a slender knight rode out to meet the king and his daughter on a black horse, as if carved from a night thundercloud.

“This is who came to us,” the king whispered, leaning towards his daughter. - Count Mortiger himself. You probably won’t find anyone richer than him in our area. But my soul doesn’t belong to him, I don’t know why. Some kind of coldness emanates from him...

- That's right! – chirped the Court Sparrow, sitting on the king’s shoulder.

What Count Mortiger heard remains unknown. But at that same moment, two short, sharp lightning bolts flew out of his eyes and melted into the air, leaving a light smoky trail.

Yes, you can say that Count Mortiger was handsome in his own way. True, his skin was perhaps too pale, and in the shadows it even seemed a little greenish. But that’s why his eyes seemed so bright, large, bottomless black. A dim, distant fire sometimes flared up in their depths.

- The casket is here! - he ordered the gaping servant, and he sat down on trembling legs.

“Princess, here are the rarest jewels, given to us by the stingy and greedy bowels of the earth!” – Count Mortiger wanted to open the heavy casket, but Melisende shook her head with a smile and took a step back.

“Well, my children, take a walk in the garden,” King Unger said with a sigh and put his hand on his chest. - And I need to rest. It's kind of hard to breathe. And strangely enough, I feel drawn to lie down on the grass in our oak grove...

Before he had time to finish speaking, an old gardener clumsily climbed out onto the path strewn with golden sand, parting the rose bushes.

– By Saint Martin, it’s a miracle! – he exclaimed, stuttering with excitement. – I can’t leave this place, Your Majesty, it’s a miracle!

- What a miracle, speak clearly! – the king ordered impatiently.

“But that’s what it’s all about,” the old man hurried. - Oak Grove... I know every oak tree there and call it by name: some are Green Acorn, some are Old Hollow, some...

- Enough empty chatter! – the king frowned and suddenly smiled. – I don’t know why, but today I am pleased to hear about the oak grove. So what miracle, old man?

“At the edge, at the edge...” the gardener, stumbling, came closer. - I'll fall through the ground. Two new oak trees have grown! Strong and green! They weren't there yesterday, I swear. And this morning there are two oak trees... I can’t leave this place.

“That’s right, you drank two extra glasses of strong green wine in the morning, so you’re imagining who knows what,” Count Mortiger grinned mockingly.

“Go ahead, old man,” the king waved his hand. - Hey, my faithful page Turdis! Bring your king a cup of old noble wine. And they spread the carpet on the edge of the oak grove. I want to rest there today.

A thin page quickly jumped onto the path and reverently grabbed his master by the elbow.

Princess Melisende and Count Mortiger walked deeper into the shady alley. Count Mortiger, as always, walked with a slight limp, stooping on one leg.

“I haven’t lost hope yet, princess,” Count Mortiger said insinuatingly. “I believe that you will finally appreciate my devotion and true love.” I have two locks. It’s not for nothing that one is called Golden. If you become my wife, all the jewels, all the treasures in the world will belong to you.

Count Mortiger respectfully touched the princess's hand, but she, shuddering, recoiled from him.

“I value other treasures, Count,” she said quietly, running her hand over the yet-to-bloom rosebuds, as if trying to erase the trace of his touch. - I'm afraid you won't understand me. Look, a flock of white swans is flying over there. Following them is a huge black raven. Its beak is outlined with a blood-red stripe. I have never seen such a terrible bird. What do you think, Count, can a black raven fly with a flock of snow-white swans?

“Wow, what hints,” Mortiger’s face distorted with annoyance. - But wait, stubborn beauty. If I succeed in accomplishing what I have in mind, you will speak differently..."

At this time, the page Turdis, running headlong, caught up with them.

– I swear, I’m not guilty of anything! – the boy stammered, gasping. “I spread the carpet under the oak trees and presented my master with a goblet of light Rhine wine. And suddenly... Suddenly, oh my God! My king has disappeared. I didn’t even have time to notice how it happened...

Bending the thorny stems of roses, a gray-haired gardener tumbled onto the path.

- Oh, grief! “I’ve gone crazy, I’ve lost my mind, I’ve lost my mind...” he barely managed to say. - An unprecedented thing! At the edge of the forest, no one knows how, a mighty branchy oak tree grew. You can't wrap your arms around it. And on the bough hangs a golden cup with the royal coat of arms. I swear, half an hour ago this oak tree was not there...

- Get out, you idiot! – Count Mortiger angrily shouted at him. Two black smoky streams escaped from his eyes. “All of you, careless servants, must be driven out.” You only know how to spread stupid tales.

- Come on, Count! This gardener is our old, devoted servant,” the princess said in surprise and sadness.

Desperately flapping his wings, the Court Sparrow flew onto the path.

- Fools, brainless and tailless! – he chirped desperately. - Ignorants, no one knows the sparrow language! Noble royal sap flows in this oak tree. If I could find out which scoundrel turned my king into an oak tree, he would peck him right in the eye!

Chapter 2
What happened at the abandoned cemetery

Count Mortiger rode on his black horse along the night South Road. When he rode into the shadow of dense trees, he seemed to merge with the darkness, only the horse’s silky mane occasionally sparkled with pale silver.

“Glorious night, wonderful night,” Charon the raven croaked from time to time, sitting on his master’s shoulder. – Reminds me of my native Hades. The same dim, joyless light, chilling the soul.

Count Mortiger rode up to the church and dismounted. Through the open doors one could see how in the depths a lonely candle illuminated the quietly shining icons.

Crosses and tombstones were visible near the church. Here and there the wind shook the tongues of the candles. There was an air of peace and quiet here, as if the church was guarding the peaceful sleep of the cemetery.

Mortiger passed the church fence. He was immediately enveloped in damp, frozen darkness. A dim moon appeared from behind a cloud, but its light did not seem to reach the ground. The stars drew in the chilled rays.

Now Mortiger walked past abandoned graves, overgrown with weeds and bitter herbs. No crosses, no monuments. Robbers and murderers who did not repent and were not inveterate by the church were buried here.

Occasionally a foggy cloud hovered over a lonely crumbling grave.

– Take a closer look, Charon! This is the memory of the deceased. She will fly over his grave as long as anyone alive still remembers him,” Mortiger said quietly. – Yes, that means someone else remembers these villains.

Mortiger, limping, walked between the barely visible graves. Sometimes barely audible groans and sighs could be heard from underground.

“Look at this whitish haze, over that grave,” Mortiger extended his hand. “It’s immediately obvious that an evil murderer, a scoundrel, a hanged man is buried here!” Killed a young mother, three children and an old father. You see, inside the haze the ghost of a bloody knife flashes and the bodies of the dead are barely visible. Now we will find a memory for my girl, my beautiful bride.

- Why isn’t this one suitable? - Charon croaked. – Where else will you find the memory of such a villain?

“No, this memory is too heavy for my gentle princess,” Mortiger chuckled. - You can not understand. Her soul is too pure and bright. And the body is fragile and thin. The baby will break under the weight of such a memory... Wait! There's a very pale cloud hovering over that distant grave. Let's come closer.

Charon took off and beat his wings.

– This memory is too transparent!

A dull fire lit up in Mortiger's eyes.

- How can you understand, stupid bird! – Mortiger did not take his eyes off the blurry cloud. - Murderer! Look closely and you will see her long, misty braids. She was wrestling with a beggar woman on the bridge. She pushed the beggar woman into the water because she wanted to take her purse of coppers. You see, the drowning woman is begging to lend her a hand and save her. And in response - a quiet, evil laugh. No, she didn’t extend her hand...

- So this is just what you need! – Charon sat down on the branch of a dried tree. - Grab this memory!

“I don’t know, I don’t know...” Mortiger grumbled, coming closer. – Look, there’s a noose and a bottle of poison on the side. Too many murders, too many murders on her conscience...

– And you cut this memory in half with your witch’s sword! – Charon settled on his shoulder again.

- Well! Perhaps you are not so stupid, ferryman of the dead! – Mortiger grinned. – Half of this memory may suit my beauty!

Mortiger pulled out from the countless folds of his black cloak a large mother-of-pearl pearl, shining with all the colors of the rainbow even in the dark. He opened it and, deftly wielding its doors, caught the ghostly mist like a large butterfly.

The pearl slammed shut with a quiet sound.

Mortiger extended his hands over the grave, holding the pearl tightly.

I call upon darkness and darkness!
I'll take the dark memory
And to the pearl prison
I will imprison you with the power of black!
Everything will be as I want!

You could hear the trapped memory beating desperately in the pearl.

- Thief, scoundrel! – a muffled voice full of rage and despair was heard from under the ground. - Give me my memory! Sneaky robber! I can't part with her! This is the only thing I have left... Give it back!..

Two green and yellow bony hands rose from the grave. The crumbling fingers were studded with copper rings. The hands, trembling, reached out to the pearl, but Count Mortiger recoiled, and the skeleton’s hands only managed to grab the edge of the cloak.

Mortiger tore the cloak from his dead fingers, waved it and flew up. He rushed over the fence of an abandoned cemetery and soon disappeared behind the tops of the forest.

“Hold on tight to my shoulder,” Mortiger ordered, pressing the pearl to his chest.

The wind hit my face. The witch's cloak, inflated with a sail, rushed them so fast that everything they flew over merged into one dark stripe.

A round lake flashed by. In it, swaying and gathering in folds, the reflection of the moon floated.

- Two moons! – Charon croaked enviously. “You could give me one moon, or at least its reflection.” If only I could illuminate the dead waves of the Styx...

- Don't you want too much? – Mortiger abruptly interrupted him.

Now they had descended and were flying over the damp tops of the forest. The smell of bitter night herbs came.

But a tall dark castle rose in front of them. From a distance he seemed a little ghostly. Motionless, petrified servants stood at the gate. The doors opened to greet the owner.

The precious carpets that covered the marble floor were covered with a crust of frost and crunched under Count Mortiger's feet. A chilly cold wafted from the frozen ceiling. Columns, columns, covered with snow from below.

Raven Charon huddled on Count Mortiger's shoulder, apparently sick of the cold.

Count Mortiger entered a high hall with a fireplace decorated with stone dragons. Pale tongues of cold flame danced over the frozen logs. The sparks flying into the chimney looked more like a swarm of snowflakes.

Poisonous salamanders curled up in the very heart of the fire. They wriggled, pushed each other, their backs shone with dull gold. Amber poison dripped from the forked tongues. On a snow-covered log, the queen of the salamanders, the largest of them, proudly reclined, with an elegant flat crown on her head sparkling with priceless emeralds.

Mortiger placed the pearl on the table covered with a petrified brocade tablecloth. Transparent icicles hung from its corners.

The salamanders craned their heads with curiosity, examining the pearl. Mortiger's hands trembled slightly as he opened the mother-of-pearl doors. He grabbed the pale haze tightly and carefully pulled it out of the pearl.

-Cut it, cut it in half! – Charon croaked, circling over the table.

- Master, master, give us at least a piece of this memory! – the salamander queen raised her head with a hiss. Her bulging eyes burned greedily. “For us there is nothing more delicious than sinful memory.” It's been a while since we've had a meal. Cut us off from the end where there are a couple of murders, a bloody knife and an ax. We're going to have a blast today! And take the rest for yourself. Do you hear, master?

- Wow, how wisely you all judged! – Count Mortiger grinned. – Yes, perhaps a small piece of this memory will be enough for me. Princess Melisende will be amazed when she remembers how she fought on the bridge and did not extend her hand to the drowning beggar!..

Barely visible shadows inside the pale haze, trembling, rushed about, not knowing where to hide.

But at that same moment, with one movement of his sword, Mortiger cut the cloud, which had shrunk in horror, in half.

Disdainfully, with two fingers, he grabbed a piece of memory, where several shadows interlocked and the ghosts of a bloody knife and an ax flashed. He casually tossed the piece of memory into the salamanders' fireplace. With squeals and hisses, they began to tear him apart.

Count Mortiger grinned:

- Well, eat and enjoy. Lots of tidbits here. There’s a noose, and a bottle of poison, and something tastier...

Count Mortiger carefully hid the remaining piece of memory in a pearl. There was a quiet splash of water, the creaking of a dilapidated wooden bridge, a muffled scream, and the pearl closed.

There was a well-fed silence in the fireplace. The salamanders collapsed with their bellies up, surrounding their queen. The cold fire hummed quietly. The salamander queen closed her eyes, pressing the ghost of a bloody knife to the log with her paw.

“I’ll save it for dinner,” she hissed sleepily.

- And what about me? – Charon asked with timid hope, revealing his beak, surrounded by a blood-red stripe. – Maybe to celebrate you will return me to my ancient appearance and let me go, huh? I miss my oar and boat so much...

“Shut up, you pathetic rogue,” Count Mortiger said indifferently. – You can still be useful to me. Now let's go!

Chapter 1
Missing Suitors