The reason for salt

[This one is long, but an easy read]

Let me tell you a story.

It’s not my story. It’s an old story. I just found it. It begins like this:

Once upon a time, a long time ago, there was a man. The man’s wife had died.

The man’s wife had died some time ago, and he had three daughters he loved very much. He was very rich, but, since his wife died, very unsure. He wanted to know if his daughters loved him back. So he asked his oldest, “How much do you love me, my dear?”

She said, quick as a flash, “As I love my life.”

He asked his middle daughter, “How much do you love me, my dear?”

She said, as fast as thought, “Better than everything in the world combined.”

He asked his youngest daughter, who was very pretty, “And how much do you love me, my dearest?”

Now the youngest daughter was not just very pretty, but was very clever. She thought for a moment, then slowly replied

“I love you as meat loves salt!”

Now when her father heard this, he was very angry, because he really loved her more than the others. Meat loves salt, he thought? What’s that to life, to the world?

“What!?” he said “After all I’ve given you, my hearth, my home, all of my riches!” So then and there (in some ways a different time) he turned her out of his house, and she wandered far and wide.

Not knowing where to go, she wandered on, until she came to a fen where the reeds grew so tall and the rushes swayed in the wind like a field of corn. There she sat down and weaved herself a dress of rushes and a cap, to hide her fine clothes and her beautiful hair. For it was a terrible country, full of robbers and thieves, who would as soon look at you as they would take everything you had.

The dress and the hat took a long time to make, and by the time she was finished, she was very hungry. She wandered on, until she came to a fine house in a village. The front door was embossed with silver, so she didn’t knock on the front door, but went around the back. There she found a rather plain woman washing pots and scrubbing pans.

“If I may have a night’s lodging, I’ll scrub the pots and pans for you.”

“Why! Here’s luck!” exclaimed the scullery maid, so happy. “I so wanted to go walking with my sweetheart. But mind you clean the pots well or the cook will be after me.”

By the next morning the pots and pans were scrubbed so clean that they were like mirrors, and the cook said to the scullery maid, “Who’s cleaned these pots? Not you, I’ll swear.” So the maid came up and told the truth. And the cook would have turned away the old maid and brought on the new, but the latter would not have it.

So they all worked together for a time. And after a time, the master’s son came of age, and there was to be a ball, for the young man loved to dance. After the meal, the servants would be allowed to ascent to the gallery and watch the revelries.

But the young woman with the dress and cap of rushes refused to go, because she loved to dance, and she was afraid that if she heard the fiddles play a jig, she’s be unable to stop herself. So she excused herself, saying here were too many pots to wash and pans to clean and she was tired from her labour.

But, alas for her, the door was left open, and as she lay on her bed, the sounds of the jig crept up through the halls and down the stairs and through the door and into her ears.

She upped from her bed and doffed her dress and cap of rushes and there she was, as fine and pretty as the day she’d left her father’s house. She was in the ballroom and in the dance no sooner than you could blink. And on the floor there was no better dancer nor no lovelier person than she.

The master’s son singled her out at once, and engaged her with a bow, and they danced all the night long. Everyone whispered about them, about who was this mystery girl whom no one knew, for no one recognised her without the dress and cap of rushes. But before the night was through, she made her excuse, and slipped away, and by the time the other servants arrived back, she was in her bed in the dress and cap of rushes.

They all talked about the mystery woman who had appeared and danced all night with the master’s son and her eyes twinkled but all she said was “I should like to see her, but I don’t think I ever shall.”

And they said to her, “Surely you will, for the master’s son has ordered another ball tomorrow, in hope that he shall meet her again.”

And that evening, again she refused to go to the ball, saying there were too many pots to wash and pans to clean and she was tired from her labour. But again the music crept down the halls and through the door and into her ear and she thought, perhaps I can have one dance – the young master dances so well.

And sure enough, as soon as she entered the hall, the master’s son was waiting at the door, and upon seeing her, had only eyes for her. She took his hand, and they danced the whole night. Every eye was fixed upon them! Every couple made way for them to move through! But before the evening was finished, she made her excuses and fled. And when the servants came back, they found her in her dress and cap of rushes in her bed. Her breath was fast and her cheeks were flushed, and as they looked upon her they said “She’s dreaming. Let us hope her dreams are good.”

In the morning, the servants again spoke of the mystery woman dancing with the master’s son, and the woman only stood aside and said “I should like to see her; but I’m sure I never shall!”

“Oh!” they replied, “If you come tonight, you are sure to see her, for the young master has ordered another ball in the single hope that he meets her again! It is easy to see he is madly in love with her.”

The she told herself she would never dance again, for it was not fit for a young master to be in love with someone so low. But as soon as she heard the music, her feet decided for her, throwing off the cap and dress of rushes, she ran into the ballroom. And waiting at the entrance was the master’s son, and seeing her, he took her by the hand and they danced all night.

Again, at the end of the evening, she left promptly, but the young master knew her ways and grasped her hand. As she slipped away, his ring came off in her hand.

The next morning, all the servants talked about was the mystery woman and the young master. After the ball, the young master had fallen sick, couldn’t eat and hadn’t left his bed. All were concerned that he might die. The young woman laughed and said “Young men don’t die of love”.

And for weeks he didn’t leave his bed, eating nothing. He slowly wasted away.

The master’s servants served him feasts: roast goose, jellied eels, fine hams, sides of beef, and soups, and creams. But the young man ate nothing.

Then the maid came back crying and said “Perhaps if he will eat nothing, he may at least eat some gruel”.

And the cook prepared some gruel, and the young woman stirred the gruel, and while she did so, slipped the young master’s ring into it.

The young man waved away the gruel, but the butler started to cry, and the young man, embarrassed, stirred the bowl. And while he stirred it, the spoon clanked against something metal. The young man, fishing it up, found it was his own ring! Instantly he sat up in bed and called for the cook.

“Did you make this gruel?” he asked quickly.

“I did”, she said, half pleased and half frightened.

“You didn’t, for you look nothing like her!” he said, waving her away.

“I made it, but another stirred the pot” she cried out.

“Send her up” he called as he collapsed back on the pillow, for he was very near death.

So the young woman came up and presented herself to the young master. And he looked at her cap of rushes and gown of reeds and did not recognise her.

“From whom did you get this ring?”

And she replied, taking pity on him “From him that gave it to me.” And throwing off the cap and the gown, she was as beautiful as the day she’d left her father’s house, with her hair caught up with pearls.

And the young man saw her for who she was and sat up in bed with all his former strength, leaping out and catching her with a kiss.

So, of course, they married.

Everyone was invited to the wedding feast. Amongst the guests was the young woman’s father, now blind with grief at losing his favourite daughter.

Now the young woman said to the cook “Please, leave out all the salt from the food.” And the cook, although she didn’t understand, knew enough of the young woman that she agreed and left all the food without salt.

And on the day of the wedding feast all the guests arrived and saw the beautiful food sat prepared for them. And they sat down and tasted the food, and at the first bite were bemused, for nothing can be tasty without salt.

And the daughter’s father, upon tasting the food, burst out crying.

“What’s the matter?” the guests called out.

“I had a daughter whom I loved dearly, so dearly. And I asked her how she loved me, and she replied “As meat loves salt”. And I was angry with her and turned her out of my home, for I thought she didn’t love me at all. But now I see she loved me best of all.”

And as he said the words his eyes were opened, and these beside him was his daughter, lovelier than ever.

And she gave him one hand, and the young master the other, and laughed saying

"I love you both as meat loves salt."

And they all were happy forevermore.