Legend of Princess Anya

Легенда о Принцессе Анье

We dedicate this page to Princess Anya and her yeoman swain Güerick, and to the legend of their undying love – that births the ANYA line of Molded Porcelain, cast in fire, and even today individually crafted in clay and hand-finished by Transcarpathian Potters, in the little mediaeval hamlets around Vorokhta and Verkhovyna, hidden away in the Carpathian mountains and enchanted forests of unforgettable Northern Transylvania and Far Western Ukraine – a beautiful land of breathtaking castles and forgotten kingdoms, gallant knights and porcelain princesses, spun from fairy-tales and woven together with its richness of history and lore.

thousand years ago, in the valley of the Upper Pruth (or Pyretus) river in the mountains of Transcarpathia, in the Zamkova Stariihutsulshchyna castle of Vorokhta – or Vorogda as it is called in Ruthenian – hidden away in the misty shadows of the rugged Carpathian Mountains, there lived a beautiful Saxon princess. Her name was Anya Von Preusenwald.

Anya had a beautiful mane of raven-black hair that cascaded from her head like a waterfall, tumbling almost down to her slim waist, and a pair of enchanting ice-blue eyes that stood out in glorious contrast, like Blue Topaz mountain pools on a hot summer's day. She was so lovely and desirable that all the princes of Europe of her time wanted to woo her. They came, one and all, bearing gifts of gold and ivory and silk, ere they may catch a glimpse of the mien of their moon-goddess, or a solitary rose from her hair. But our fair Anya had not eyes for any of these princely suitors. And yet, her beauty shined liked the Sun upon all Transcarpathia – for she was in love.

But the apple of Anya’s beautiful doe-eyes was no prince – he was a common man. He was the reclusive dark-skinned young gypsy Güerick, 'Ochi-Chyornii' (Black-Eyes) to the local Hutsul highlanders, who lived in the woods of Nesamovyte. His people were nomads, wanderers who travelled around from country to country making their livelihood as potters, making and selling their ceramic and porcelainwares wherever they went, and made the most beautiful clay images that you could find.

Güerick Von Hergé was a common man, and yet he had the fingers of an artist, and the heart of a lover. Anya had met him in the woods around Lake Nesamovyte, working with his hands with ceramic clay beside a glorious patch of flowers, and he had made her a porcelain rose. However, he worked with his heart and the love that was within him, and the clay rose was more beautiful than any real rose, and to Princess Anya, even smelt more sweet. The blushing Anya had flushingly accepted her rose, shyly given, and had run home to her castle tower, but she had left her heart behind. She had also taken with her not only Güerick’s rose, but also his heart, for they were two innocent young people whose hearts and souls had been joined to each others’, tied together by the eternal bonds of true love.

In the glorious sunlit days of the Transcarpathian summer that followed, they met again and again, to lose themselves in each others’ eyes each time. And each time Güerick would give her something he had made for her at his potter’s wheel. Anya would take her gift to her boudoir to love, admire and dote over, as she did her Güerick, until her walls and chambers were filled his works. He had made each gift with his hands and his heart, and there was a part of him in each piece of clay. They kept her company and brought her Güerick to Anya all the time when he was not with her.

So continued a long summer of love, until one day the cold winds of fall started to blow.

As all good things must, Anya’s days of happiness were coming to an end.

One day, the king, her father Waldymar, found out about Güerick, and that he was a gypsy, a despised race, a dark-skinned foreigner from some faraway Eastern land. The king was furious. He ordered Anya to her room in the castle tower, and put a lock on her door.

He then quickly invited Serhyei, the king of Bukovina (in modern-day Ukraine) – one of Anya’s luckless suitors – to come quickly to Vorokhta to marry Anya.

The old king also sent his soldiers to capture Güerick, who was found, chained and brought to the king’s court. The king charged him with treason, and sentenced him to banishment for life – exile from the enchanted kingdom of Transcarpathia.

However, as a last request, Anya was allowed to see Güerick for one last time. When she saw him, she held him to her bosom, and with tearful eyes, bid him to make for her one last immortal gift of clay. Güerick made her his last gift, a beautiful ceramic image of the princess herself, captured in the days of their joyful love, with the wind in her hair, and the sun on her lips, and the stars in her eyes. Giving her this last gift, Güerick bid her good-bye, and left the castle.

Güerick then left Transcarpathia forever, with a heavy heart and sad memories of love and of his sweet princess Anya. But he vowed to spend all of eternity making with his hands and his heavy heart porcelain gifts for his sweet Anya, lest one day – perhaps in a kinder future lifetime – she could have them and know his love again.

No one knows whence he went, and nought was he heard from again.

After Güerick had departed, the king and Serhyei went to Anya’s chamber to look for her.

But when they went there, Anya was nowhere to be found. They looked in her bedchamber, and then in the other chambers, and then all over the palace, and the castle grounds. And then they looked all over the town, the surrounding Hutsul villages and in the forest, ... and in all Transcarpathia and Ruthenia. But Anya too was gone forever.

Monica Banerjee Only, in her bedchamber – her porcelain statue was found. But no longer did it laugh as Güerick had made it laugh. There were now tears in the eyes of the porcelain Anya, and nothing could stop them from flowing.

The legend was born that Anya had not wanted to live any more, without her Güerick, and had entered the statue herself, to be imprisoned for an eternity in the porcelain clay that had once known, as she had, the touch of his strong yeoman potter’s hands.

The story goes that the only way Anya would return, would be if her fateful swain Güerick were to be found again and brought back to the castle. If he should kiss the tearful rose-petal lips of the porcelain princess, Anya would come back to life again and smile.

The old king was brokenhearted and wished for all the world that he could make amends, but there was nought that he could do. He spent the rest of his years searching for Güerick all over the world and waiting for his darling Anya to be brought back to life.

Güerick was never found.

But from time to time, one still finds here and there an odd piece of pottery bearing the marking, “for my Anya”. If you should come upon one of these, mark well where you got it, for you may have come upon the secret of the whereabouts of the illusive and handsome Transcarpathian potter, and you may hold the key to the lost smile of Anya.

A (completely fictional) Story by Gairik Banerjee

A (полностью вымышленная) Рассказ Гайрика Банерджей