There was - once upon a time - a king who had a great forest near his palace, full of all kinds of wild animals. One day he sent out a huntsman to shoot him a roebuck, but he did not come back.

“Perhaps some accident has befallen him,” said the king.

Next day he sent out a hunting party of two huntsmen who were to search for the first, but they too stayed away.

On the third day, the king sent for all his huntsmen, and said: “Scour the whole forest through, and do not give up until you have found all three.”

None of these hunstmen came home again, and as for the pack of hounds that had gone with them, none were seen again. From that time forth, no one would any longer venture into the forest, and it lay there in deep stillness and solitude, and nothing was seen of it. Sometimes an eagle or a hawk flying over it would be espied flying over it, but that was all the life that was ever seen about it.

This state of affairs lasted for many years. Then, one early spring morning, an unknown huntsman announced himself to the king.

“I am seeking a situation, and in order to prove my woodskills, I am prepared to go into the forest.

The king, however, shook his head, and said:

“I have nothing against you that I should want to sentence you to death. It is not safe in there. Why should I presume that you can succeed where so many others have failed?”

The huntsman replied, “Lord King, I will venture it at my own risk. Fear is only a word to me.”

The huntsman therefore took himself with his dog to the forest. It was not long before the dog fell in with some game on the way, and wanted to pursue it. Hardly had the dog run two steps when it stood before a deep pool. The dog could go no further, and before it could draw back - a naked arm stretched itself out of the water, seized it, and drew it under.

When the huntsman saw that, he went back and fetched three men to come with buckets and bale out the water. When they could see to the bottom there lay a wild man whose body was brown like rusty iron, and whose hair hung over his face down to his knees. They bound him with cords, and led him away to the castle.

There was great astonishment over the wild man. The king, however, ordered an iron cage for his courtyard. There the wild man was locked up. The king forbade the door to be opened on pain of death, and the queen herself was to take the key into her keeping.

From this day forth everyone could go into the forest with safety.

The king had a son of eight years, who was once playing in the courtyard, and while he was playing, his golden ball fell into the cage.

The boy ran up to the cage and said, “Give me my ball.”

“Not till you have opened the door for me,” answered the hairy man.

“No,” said the boy. “I would never do that. My father, the king has forbidden it.”

With these words, the boy turned on his heel and ran off.

The next day he again went and asked for his ball.

The wild man said, “Open the door.”

The boy again refused. “Why should I? I don’t even know your name!”

“My name is Eisen Járn.”

On the third day the king rode out hunting. The boy went once more to the cage and said, “I cannot open the door even if I wished, for I don’t have the key.”

Then Eisen Járn said, “It lies under your mother's pillow in her bedroom. You’re her son, you can get in there and fetch it here for me.”

The boy wanted his ball back so badly that he cast all thought to the winds, and brought the key. The door opened with difficulty, and the boy pinched his fingers.

When it swung open Eisen Járn stepped out, gave him the golden ball, and hurried away.

The boy was suddenly afraid. He called and cried after him, “Oh, Eisen Járn, do not go away, or I shall be beaten.!”

Eisen Járn turned back, took him up, set him on his shoulder, and hurried away into the forest.

When the king came home, his eye lit on the empty cage. He asked the queen, “How has that cage been opened, when you are the only one with the key?”

The queen replied, “The key hasn’t moved as far as I know.” She went to her bedroom and sought the key, but it was gone.

The only other person permitted to enter this room was her son. She called for him, but there was no answer.

The king sent people to seek for him in the fields, but they did not find him.

When they came back empty-handed, the king groaned:

“I can guess what has happened.”

His wife put her hand on his shoulder to staunch his grief, but the whole kingdom was darkened for the loss of the boy.

When Eisen Járn reached the dark forest, he took the boy down from his shoulder, and said to him:

“You will never see your father and mother again. I will keep you with me, for you have set me free, and I have compassion on you. If you do all I bid you, you shall fare well. Of treasure and gold have I enough, and more than anyone in the world.”

He made a bed of moss for the boy on which he slept, and the next morning the man took him to a well, and said: “Behold, this is the gold well. It’s as bright and clear as crystal. You shall sit beside it, to take care that nothing falls into it, or it will be polluted. I will come every evening to see if you have obeyed my order.”

The boy placed himself by the brink of the well, and often saw a golden fish or a golden snake in the clear waters. He took great care that nothing fell in.

As he kept his vigil, his finger throbbed from where he had pinched it in the lock. It hurt him so violently that he involuntarily put it in the water. He drew it quickly out again, but saw that it was quite gilded, and no matter what pains he took to wash the gold off again, it all was to no purpose.

In the evening Eisen Járn came back, looked at the boy, and said: “What happened to the well?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he answered, and held his finger behind his back, that it might not be seen.

Eisen Járn grabbed his arm from behind his back and held up the gilded finger. “You have dipped your finger into the water. I’ll let it pass - this time - but make sure you don’t let anything go in again.”

By daybreak the boy was already sitting by the well and watching it. His finger hurt him once again and he passed it over his head, and then – wouldn’t you know it! - a hair fell down into the well.

He quickly fished it out, but it was already quite gilded.

Eisen Járn came again, and already knew what had happened. “You have let a hair fall into the well. I will allow you to watch by it once more, but if this happens for the third time then the well is polluted, and you can no longer remain with me.”

On the third day, the boy sat by the well, and did not stir his finger, however much it hurt him. But the time was long to him, and he looked at the reflection of his face on the surface of the water. And as he still bent down more and more while he was doing so, and trying to look straight into the eyes, his long hair fell down from his shoulders into the water. He raised himself up quickly, but the whole of the hair of his head was already golden and shone like the sun.

You can imagine how terrified the poor boy was.

He took out his pocket-handkerchief and tied it round his head, in order that Eisen Járn might not see it. When the wild man came he already knew everything, and said: “Take off that handkerchief!”

Then the golden hair streamed forth, and no matter what the boy said in the way of excuse, it was no use.

“You have not stood the trial, and may stay here no longer. Go forth into the world. There you will learn what poverty is. But as you have not a bad heart, and as I mean well by you, there is one thing I will grant you. If you fall into any difficulty, come to the forest and cry, ‘Eisen Járn’, and then I will come and help you. My power is great, greater than you think, and I have gold and silver in abundance.”

Then the king’s son left the forest, and walked by beaten and unbeaten paths ever onwards until at length he reached a great city. There he looked for work, but could find none, and he had learnt nothing by which he could help himself.

At length he went to the palace, and asked if they would take him in. The people about the court didn’t know what use they could make of him, but they liked him, and told him to stay.

Finally the cook took him into his service, and said he could carry wood and water, and rake the cinders out each morning.

So time passed by and the boy fitted into his new life.

Then it just so happened that one day the cook needed a servant to carry some food to the king’s table. As the boy did not like to let his golden hair be seen, he kept his little cap on. Such an act of disrespect as that had never yet come under the king's notice, and he said:

“When you come to the royal table you must take your hat off.”

He answered, “Ah, lord, I cannot. I have a weeping sore on my head.”

The king was disgusted at this and called the cook before him for a scolding. “Call yourself a royal cook? How could you take such a boy into service!”

The cook trembled and feared for his life.

The king added: “You are to send him away at once!”

The cook, however, took pity on him, and exchanged him for the gardener's boy.

Now the boy had to plant and water the garden, hoe and dig, and bear the wind and bad weather.

Once in summer when he was working alone in the garden, the day was so warm he took his little cap off that the air might cool him. As the sun shone on his hair it glittered and flashed so that the rays fell into the bedroom of the king's daughter. Up she sprang to see what was shining so brightly.

Looking out she saw the boy, and cried to him, “Boy, bring me a posy of flowers!”

He put his cap on with all haste, and gathered wild field-flowers and bound them together. When he was ascending the stairs with them, the gardener met him, and said, “How can you take the king's daughter a garland of such common flowers! Go quickly, and get another, and seek out the prettiest and rarest.”

“Oh, no,” replied the boy, “the wild ones have more scent, and will please her better.”

When he got into the room, the king's daughter said, “Take your cap off, boy. It is not seemly to keep it on in my presence.”

Again he said, “I may not. I have a weeping sore on my head.”

The king’s daughter, however, knew better. She caught at his cap and pulled it off, and then his golden hair rolled down on his shoulders, and it was splendid to behold. He wanted to run out, but she held him by the arm, and gave him a handful of gold arm-rings. With these he departed, but he cared nothing for the gold arm-rings.

He took them to the gardener, and said, “Give these to your children. They are bright and shiny and they can roll around like little wheels. Your children can have a great time playing with them.”

The following day the king's daughter again called to him that he was to bring her a posy of field-flowers, and when he went in with it, she instantly snatched at his cap, and wanted to take it away from him, but he held it fast this time with both hands.

Once again she gave him a handful of gold arm-rings, but he would not keep them, and gave them to the gardener for playthings for his children.

On the third day things went just the same. She could not get his cap away from him, and he would not have her money.

Not long afterwards, the country was overrun by war. The king gathered together his people, and did not know whether or not he could offer any opposition to the enemy, who was superior in strength and had a mighty army.

Then said the gardener's boy, “I am grown up, and will go to the wars also. Give me a horse.”

The others laughed, and said, “Seek one for yourself when we are gone. We will leave one behind us in the stable for you.”

When they had gone forth, he went into the stable, and led the horse out. It was lame of one foot, and limped hobblety jig, hobblety jig. Nevertheless he mounted it, and rode away to the dark forest.

When he came to the outskirts, he called “Eisen Járn” three times so loudly that it echoed through the trees.

The wild man appeared immediately, and said, “What do you desire?”

“I want a strong steed, for I am going to the wars.”

“You don’t want much, do you? But I like a boy who wants a man’s things. I can get you a suitable warhorse.”

Eisen Járn went back into the forest, and it was not long before a stable-boy came out of it, leading a horse that snorted with its nostrils, and could hardly be restrained. Behind them followed a great troop of warriors entirely equipped in iron, and their swords flashed in the sun.

The youth made over his three-legged horse to the stable-boy, mounted the other, and rode at the head of the soldiers. When he got near the battle-field a great part of the king's men had already fallen, and the rest were on the verge of surrender.

Then the youth galloped thither with his iron soldiers, broke like a hurricane over the enemy, and beat down all who opposed him. They began to flee, but the youth pursued, and never stopped, until there was not a single man left.

Instead of returning to the king, however, he conducted his troop by byways back to the forest, and called forth Eisen Járn.

“What do you desire?” asked the wild man.

“Take back your horse and your troops, and give me my three-legged horse again.”

All that he asked was done, and soon he was riding on his three-legged horse. When the king returned to his palace, his daughter went to meet him, and wished him joy on his victory.

“I am not the one who carried away the victory,” said the king. “A strange knight came to my assistance with his soldiers.”

The daughter wanted to hear all about the strange knight, but the king knew no more. He said, “He followed the enemy, and I did not see him again.”

The king’s daughter thought about this strange news. She found herself in the herb garden where she encountered the gardener, working away.

She inquired of him where his boy was, but he smiled, and said, “He has just come home on his three-legged horse, and the others have been mocking him, and crying, ‘Here comes our hobblety jig back again!’ They also asked, ‘Have you been sleeping under the hedge all this time?’ So he said, ‘I did the best of all, and it would have gone badly without me!’ And of course that only meant more ridicule.”

“That is strange and silly,” said the king’s daughter. She sighed. “If only there were some way of finding out more about this strange warrior who saved the day.”

The gardener stretched up and pulled down an apple. “Those are affairs of state, young maid. Don’t you worry your pretty head about mighty matters of kings. Here, take this apple. It’s the first from this tree this season, and it’ll be right tasty.”

The king’s daughter returned with the apple, casting it into the air and catching it again. Suddenly an enormous clash of metal made her jump and her father came storming out of his conference room.

The apple bounced along the ground and came to the king’s feet.

The king bent and picked it up and looked at his daughter with shrewd eyes.

“You have just given me an idea, my dear. I will proclaim a great feast that shall last for three days, and each day you shall throw a golden apple. Perhaps the unknown man will show himself.”

With that he tossed the apple back to his daughter. She caught it out of the air and stood watching as her father stormed off to plot his policies.

When the feast was announced, the youth went out to the forest, and called Eisen Járn.

“What do you desire?” asked the hairy man.

“I want to be able to catch the king's daughter's golden apple.”

“It is as safe as if you had it already,” said Eisen Járn. “You shall have a special suit of red armour for the occasion, and ride on a spirited chestnut-horse.”

When the big day arrived, the youth galloped to the spot, took his place amongst the knights, and was recognized by no one.

The king's daughter came forward, and threw a golden apple to the knights. Not one of them caught it but he. As soon as he had it he galloped away.

On the second day Eisen Járn equipped him as a white knight, and gave him a white horse.

Again he was the only one who caught the apple, and he did not linger an instant, but galloped off with it.

The king grew angry, and said, “That is not allowed. He must appear before me and tell his name.”

He gave the order that if the knight who caught the apple, should go away again they should pursue him, and if he would not come back willingly, they were to cut him down and stab him.

Later, after the councillors had departed, the king’s daughter crept up to her father as he brooded on his throne. “You can’t mean that, father. The bit about wounding him.”

The king stroked her hair and gazed fondly on her. “You are so like your mother.” He sighed. “Sometimes a king must be the one to call for the death of a man. I have sent forth my word. It must be carried out.”

On the third day, he received from Eisen Járn a suit of black armour and a black horse, and again he caught the apple. When he was riding off with it, the king's attendants pursued him, and one of them got so near him that he wounded the youth's leg with the point of his sword.

The youth nevertheless escaped from them, but his horse leapt so violently that the helmet fell from the youth's head, and they could see that he had golden hair.

They rode back and announced this to the king.

The following day the king's daughter asked the gardener about his boy.

The gardener stood up stiffly, fingering his sore back. “He is at work in the garden. The queer creature has been at the festival too, and only returned home yesterday evening. He has shown my children the three golden apples which he won.”

The king’s daughter hurried back to tell her father. The king had the gardener’s boy summoned into his presence, and he came and again had his little cap on his head.

The king's daughter went up to him and took it off, and then his golden hair fell down over his shoulders, and he was so handsome that all were amazed.

“Are you the knight who came every day to the festival, always in different colours, and who caught the three golden apples?” asked the king.

“Yes,” answered he, “and here are the apples.”

He took them out of his pocket, and returned them to the king.

“If you desire further proof, you may see the wound which your people gave when they followed me. I am also the knight who helped you to victory over your enemies.”

“If you can perform such deeds, you are no gardener's boy! Tell me, who is your father?”

“My father is a mighty king, and gold have I in plenty - as great as I require.”

“I see,” said the king, “that I owe thanks to you. Can I do anything to please you?”

“Yes,” he answered, “you can. Give me your daughter to wife.”

The maiden laughed, and said, “He does not stand much on ceremony, but I have already seen by his golden hair that he is no gardener's boy!”

Then she went and tenderly kissed him.

His father and mother came to the wedding, and were in great delight, for they had given up all hope of ever seeing their dear son again.

As they were sitting at the marriage-feast, the music suddenly stopped, the doors opened, and a stately king came in with a great retinue. He went up to the youth, embraced him and said, “I am Eisen Járn, and was by enchantment a wild man, a hairy man, a creature of the forest. You were the one to set me free. All the treasures I possess shall be your property!”

And they all lived happily ever after.

A note

Eisen Járn = this is the German word for iron coupled with the Old Norse word for iron. If we can have the word ouija coined from the French and German words (respectively) for yes, then I don’t see why we can’t rename Iron John (or Hans) with a suitably doubled epithet. I chose to remove John (and Hans) from the story purely on linguistic grounds. The name is a foreign import from Greek and Hebrew cultures. I’m presuming that Járn is pronounced with a y sound at the beginning, which gives another layer of meaning to the name: The Iron Yarn, or The Iron Tale; yarn is a colloquial term for a story which often involves fantastic elements.

In passing, the colours of the armours lent by Eisen Járn to the youth are red, white and black. I’m not sure from which culture I’m dredging up this piece of lore (possibly Graves’ The White Goddess, which would make it Celtic, or possibly UPG), but this strikes me as the colours of the moon in her various aspects. When these colours came to be associated with the tale would be of interest. An alternative ‘code’ for the colours could arise from the colours of iron in the forge as it undergoes its transformation from ingot to weapon.

The roebuck (which gets mentioned at the very beginning) is a Gravesian animal, which he equates with ‘Hide the secret’.

Based on Iron John