Little Brier-Rose

In a kingdom far away, there lived a king and queen who longed for a child. Each day, the queen would sit beside a clear pool in the palace gardens, watching the frogs leap and swim, sighing with the desire to hold a baby in her arms.

One day, as she bathed in the pool, a frog emerged from the water and spoke to her in a voice like rustling leaves. “Your wish shall be granted,” it said. “Before a year has passed, you will bring a daughter into the world.”

The frog’s prophecy came true, and within the year, the queen gave birth to a girl of such beauty that the king was overcome with joy. To celebrate her birth, he arranged a magnificent feast and invited not only his relatives, friends, and acquaintances but also the thirteen wise women of the kingdom, hoping they would bestow their good wishes upon the child.

Now, in this kingdom, the thirteen wise women possessed magical powers and were known for their blessings, which always came to pass. But because the king had only twelve golden plates for them to eat from, one of the wise women had to be excluded from the celebration.

The feast was held with great splendor, and as it drew to a close, the wise women came forward to present their magical gifts to the child. The first gave the gift of virtue, the second the gift of beauty, the third the gift of wealth, and so on with all manner of worldly happiness and good fortune.

After eleven of the wise women had spoken their blessings, suddenly the thirteenth wise woman—the one who had not been invited—entered the hall. Her face was dark with anger, and without greeting or acknowledgment, she cried out in a loud voice: “When the princess is fifteen years old, she will prick herself with a spindle and fall down dead!”

Without saying another word, she turned and left the hall. Everyone was shocked and dismayed. But the twelfth wise woman, who had not yet given her gift, stepped forward. Although she could not completely undo the evil spell, she could soften it. “The princess will not die,” she declared. “Instead, she will fall into a deep sleep that will last one hundred years.”

The king, desperate to protect his daughter from this fate, issued an order that all spindles in the kingdom should be destroyed. Meanwhile, the gifts of the wise women were fulfilled, and the princess grew to be beautiful, modest, kind, and intelligent—beloved by all who knew her.

On the day the princess turned fifteen, the king and queen were away from the castle on matters of state. Left to her own devices, the curious young woman explored parts of the castle she had never seen before. Climbing an old, winding staircase, she came to a small door with a rusty key in the lock.

She turned the key, and the door sprang open to reveal a small room where an old woman sat spinning flax on a spindle. The princess, who had never seen a spinning wheel or spindle before—as they had all been destroyed or hidden according to the king’s decree—was fascinated.

“Good day, old mother,” said the princess. “What are you doing there?”

“I am spinning,” said the old woman, nodding her head.

“What is that thing that jumps about so merrily?” asked the princess, reaching out to touch the spindle.

“Beware!” warned a small voice—a sparrow perched on the windowsill. But the princess did not hear or did not heed, and the moment she touched the spindle, she pricked her finger. Instantly, she fell upon a bed that stood in the corner and slipped into a deep sleep.

This sleep spread throughout the entire castle. The king and queen, having just returned home, fell asleep in the great hall. The royal council slumbered in mid-debate, courtiers dozed against pillars, and guards slept standing at attention. In the kitchen, the cook fell asleep as she was about to box the ears of the scullery boy, who slumbered with a plucked chicken in his hands. Even the fire in the hearth ceased to flicker and slept in mid-flame.

Outside, the wind died down, and not a leaf stirred on the trees. Around the castle, a hedge of thorns began to grow, thickening year by year until it surrounded the entire castle, growing higher and higher until nothing could be seen of the castle but the very tip of the highest tower.

Throughout the land, the legend of “Little Brier-Rose,” as the sleeping princess came to be called, spread far and wide. From time to time, princes from various kingdoms attempted to penetrate the thorny hedge, having heard tales of the beautiful princess within. But the thorns were as strong as iron and clung to the young men like hands, causing many to become stuck and perish miserably.

Years passed, and decades. The story of Brier-Rose became a cautionary tale told to children, then a legend, and finally, almost a myth. Few believed that behind the impenetrable wall of thorns lay an entire castle frozen in time, with a beautiful princess at its heart.

After a hundred years had passed, a young prince from a neighboring kingdom heard the tale of Little Brier-Rose from an old man he encountered on his travels.

“My grandfather told me,” said the old man, “that many princes have tried to break through the hedge of thorns, but all have met with misfortune. Behind those thorns sleeps a princess of unparalleled beauty, awaiting the one who can reach her.”

The young prince, moved by the story and filled with a desire to see if the legend was true, declared, “I am not afraid. I will go and find this Brier-Rose.”

The old man tried to dissuade him, recounting the fates of those who had tried before, but the prince was determined. He journeyed to the kingdom where the thorny hedge had become a fearsome landmark.

As he approached the hedge, a strange thing happened. The thorns, which had seized and held fast so many who came before, transformed before his eyes. The day that marked exactly one hundred years since Brier-Rose had fallen asleep had arrived, and the spell was ready to be broken.

Where once there had been cruel thorns, beautiful flowers bloomed, parting gently to create a path for the prince. As he passed through unharmed, the flowers closed behind him, forming a protective barrier against any who might follow.

The prince found himself in the castle courtyard, where dogs lay sleeping, horses stood motionless in the stables, and birds perched still and silent on the rooftops. Inside the castle, flies slept on the walls, servants slumbered at their posts, and courtiers dozed in mid-conversation.

In the great hall, the king and queen slept on their thrones, their hands frozen in gestures made a century before. The prince moved through the silent castle, ascending the winding staircase to the small tower room where, upon a simple bed, lay the princess.

So beautiful was she, even in sleep, that the prince could not look away. Her face, unmarked by time, was as fresh and lovely as if she had fallen asleep only moments ago. Drawn by an irresistible impulse, he knelt beside her and pressed his lips gently to hers.

With that kiss, Little Brier-Rose’s eyes fluttered open. She looked upon the prince and smiled, as if she had been expecting him all along. Throughout the castle, the spell was broken. The king and queen awoke and rose from their thrones, the courtiers continued their conversations, the cook boxed the ears of the scullery boy, and the fire flickered back to life.

The prince and Brier-Rose descended to the great hall, where the king and queen embraced their daughter with tears of joy, having no sense that a hundred years had passed in what seemed to them the blink of an eye.

The wedding of the prince and princess was celebrated with splendor. The wise women, still living due to their magical nature, attended the feast and bestowed new blessings upon the couple—blessings of love, harmony, wisdom, and joy that would last all the days of their lives.

As for the thorny hedge, it had completely transformed into a wall of roses that surrounded the castle with beauty and fragrance rather than danger. And so it was that the princess once called Little Brier-Rose because of her enchanted sleep behind the thorns became known instead as the Rose Queen, who brought beauty and renewal to a kingdom that had slumbered too long.

In villages throughout the land, people would plant roses around their homes in remembrance of the sleeping princess and her awakening, a reminder that even after the darkest, longest sleep, one can awaken to find the world transformed into a place of beauty, and that true love has the power to overcome even the strongest enchantment.