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Title: The Swedish Fairy Book

Editor: Klara Stroebe

Illustrator: George Hood

Translator: Frederick Herman Martens

Release date: August 24, 2011 [eBook #37193]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by David Edwards, Matthew Wheaton and the Online
        Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
        file was produced from images generously made available
        by The Internet Archive)


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SWEDISH FAIRY BOOK ***




Produced by David Edwards, Matthew Wheaton and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)









THE SWEDISH FAIRY BOOK


    [Illustration: "NO SOONER HAD HE SPOKEN THE WORDS THAN HE WAS
    LYING IN THE MOST MAGNIFICENT ROOM HE HAD EVER SEEN."]




    THE SWEDISH FAIRY BOOK

    EDITED BY
    CLARA STROEBE

    TRANSLATED BY
    FREDERICK H. MARTENS

    WITH EIGHT ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR BY
    GEORGE W. HOOD

    NEW YORK
    FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
    PUBLISHERS


    _Copyright, 1921, by_

    FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY

    _All Rights Reserved_

    _Printed in the United States of America_




PREFACE


The following volume of Swedish fairy-tales represents a careful
choice, after the best original sources, of those examples of their
kind which not only appeared most colorful and entertaining, but also
most racially Swedish in their flavor. For the fairy-tales of each of
the three Scandinavian countries, Sweden, Denmark and Norway, have a
distinct local color of their own. The wealth of material available
has made it possible to give due representation to most types of
fairy-tales, from the stories of older origin, the tales of giant,
troll, and werewolf, to such delightful tales as "Lasse, My Thrall",
and "The Princess and the Glass Mountain," colored with the rich and
ornate stylistic garb of medieval chivalric poesy. There has been no
attempt to "rewrite" these charming folk-and fairy-tales in the
translation. They have been faithfully narrated in the simple, naive
manner which their traditional rendering demands. And this is one
reason, perhaps, why they should appeal to young American readers--for
young America by instinct takes kindly to that which is straightforward
and sincere, in the realm of fairy-tale as in life itself.

                                                 FREDERICK H. MARTENS




CONTENTS


           CHAPTER

         I KNÖS
        II LASSE, MY THRALL!
       III FINN, THE GIANT, AND THE MINSTER OF LUND
        IV THE SKALUNDA GIANT
         V YULETIDE SPECTERS
        VI SILVERWHITE AND LILLWACKER
       VII STOMPE PILT
      VIII THE GIRL AND THE SNAKE
        IX FAITHFUL AND UNFAITHFUL
         X STARKAD AND BALE
        XI THE WEREWOLF
       XII FIRST BORN, FIRST WED
      XIII THE LAME DOG
       XIV THE MOUNT OF THE GOLDEN QUEEN
        XV OLD HOPGIANT
       XVI THE PRINCESS AND THE GLASS MOUNTAIN
      XVII QUEEN CRANE
     XVIII TALES OF THE TROLLS
       XIX CHARCOAL NILS AND THE TROLL-WOMAN
        XX THE THREE DOGS
       XXI THE POOR DEVIL
      XXII HOW SMALAND AND SCHONEN CAME TO BE
     XXIII THE EVIL ONE AND KITTA GRAU
      XXIV THE LADY OF PINTORP
       XXV THE SPECTER IN FJELKINGE
      XXVI THE ROOSTER, THE HAND-MILL AND THE SWARM OF HORNETS
     XXVII TORRE JEPPE
    XXVIII THE MAN WHO DIED ON HOLY INNOCENTS' DAY




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS


    "No sooner had he spoken the words than he was lying in the most
    magnificent room he had ever seen"

    "Then Silverwhite drew his sword with a great sweep, and rushed
    upon the sea-troll"

    "The pike rose to the surface with the golden keys in his mouth"

    "So heartfelt was her happiness that she forgot everything else
    in the world"

    "A shrine adorned with gold and precious stones appeared"

    "The lion turned into a handsome young prince"

    "The rich man had to go along hanging to him like a hawser"

    "He saw a girl sitting in the mountain hall, weaving a web of
    gold"




THE SWEDISH FAIRY BOOK




Swedish Fairy Book




I

KNÖS


Once upon a time there was a poor widow, who found an egg under a pile
of brush as she was gathering kindlings in the forest. She took it and
placed it under a goose, and when the goose had hatched it, a little
boy slipped out of the shell. The widow had him baptized Knös, and
such a lad was a rarity; for when no more than five years old he was
grown, and taller than the tallest man. And he ate in proportion, for
he would swallow a whole batch of bread at a single sitting, and at
last the poor widow had to go to the commissioners for the relief of
the poor in order to get food for him. But the town authorities said
she must apprentice the boy at a trade, for he was big enough and
strong enough to earn his own keep.

So Knös was apprenticed to a smith for three years. For his pay he
asked a suit of clothes and a sword each year: a sword of five
hundredweights the first year, one of ten hundredweights the second
year, and one of fifteen hundredweights the third year. But after he
had been in the smithy only a few days, the smith was glad to give him
all three suits and all three swords at once; for he smashed all his
iron and steel to bits.

Knös received his suits and swords, went to a knight's estate, and
hired himself out as a serving-man. Once he was told to go to the
forest to gather firewood with the rest of the men, but sat at the
table eating long after the others had driven off and when he had at
last satisfied his hunger and was ready to start, he saw the two young
oxen he was to drive waiting for him. But he let them stand and went
into the forest, seized the two largest trees growing there, tore them
out by the roots, took one tree under each arm, and carried them back
to the estate. And he got there long before the rest, for they had to
chop down the trees, saw them up and load them on the carts.

On the following day Knös had to thresh. First he hunted up the
largest stone he could find, and rolled it around on the grain, so
that all the corn was loosened from the ears. Then he had to separate
the grain from the chaff. So he made a hole in each side of the roof
of the barn, and stood outside the barn and blew, and the chaff and
straw flew out into the yard, and the corn remained lying in a heap on
the floor. His master happened to come along, laid a ladder against
the barn, climbed up and looked down into one of the holes. But Knös
was still blowing, and the wind caught his master, and he fell down
and was nearly killed on the stone pavement of the court.

"He's a dangerous fellow," thought his master. It would be a good
thing to be rid of him, otherwise he might do away with all of them;
and besides, he ate so that it was all one could do to keep him fed.
So he called Knös in, and paid him his wages for the full year, on
condition that he leave. Knös agreed, but said he must first be
decently provisioned for his journey.

So he was allowed to go into the store-house himself, and there he
hoisted a flitch of bacon on each shoulder, slid a batch of bread
under each arm, and took leave. But his master loosed the vicious bull
on him. Knös, however, grasped him by the horns, and flung him over
his shoulder, and thus he went off. Then he came to a thicket where he
slaughtered the bull, roasted him and ate him together with a batch of
bread. And when he had done this he had about taken the edge off his
hunger.

Then he came to the king's court, where great sorrow reigned because,
once upon a time, when the king was sailing out at sea, a sea troll
had called up a terrible tempest, so that the ship was about to sink.
In order to escape with his life, the king had to promise the sea
troll to give him whatever first came his way when he reached shore.
The king thought his hunting dog would be the first to come running
to meet him, as usual; but instead his three young daughters came
rowing out to meet him in a boat. This filled the king with grief, and
he vowed that whoever delivered his daughters should have one of them
for a bride, whichever one he might choose. But the only man who
seemed to want to earn the reward was a tailor, named Red Peter.

Knös was given a place at the king's court, and his duty was to help
the cook. But he asked to be let off on the day the troll was to come
and carry away the oldest princess, and they were glad to let him go;
for when he had to rinse the dishes he broke the king's vessels of
gold and silver; and when he was told to bring firewood, he brought in
a whole wagon-load at once, so that the doors flew from their hinges.

The princess stood on the sea-shore and wept and wrung her hands; for
she could see what she had to expect. Nor did she have much confidence
in Red Peter, who sat on a willow-stump, with a rusty old sabre in his
hand. Then Knös came and tried to comfort the princess as well as he
knew how, and asked her whether she would comb his hair. Yes, he might
lay his head in her lap, and she combed his hair. Suddenly there was a
dreadful roaring out at sea. It was the troll who was coming along,
and he had five heads. Red Peter was so frightened that he rolled off
his willow-stump. "Knös, is that you?" cried the troll. "Yes," said
Knös. "Haul me up on the shore!" said the troll. "Pay out the cable!"
said Knös. Then he hauled the troll ashore; but he had his sword of
five hundredweights at his side, and with it he chopped off all five
of the troll's heads, and the princess was free. But when Knös had
gone off, Red Peter put his sabre to the breast of the princess, and
told her he would kill her unless she said he was her deliverer.

Then came the turn of the second princess. Once more Red Peter sat on
the willow-stump with his rusty sabre, and Knös asking to be let off
for the day, went to the sea-shore and begged the princess to comb his
hair, which she did. Then along came the troll, and this time he had
ten heads. "Knös, is that you?" asked the troll. "Yes," said Knös.
"Haul me ashore!" said the troll. "Pay out the cable!" said Knös. And
this time Knös had his sword of ten hundredweights at his side, and he
cut off all ten of the troll's heads. And so the second princess was
freed. But Red Peter held his sabre at the princess' breast, and
forced her to say that he had delivered her.

Now it was the turn of the youngest princess. When it was time for the
troll to come, Red Peter was sitting on his willow-stump, and Knös
came and begged the princess to comb his hair, and she did so. This
time the troll had fifteen heads.

"Knös, is that you?" asked the troll. "Yes," said Knös. "Haul me
ashore!" said the troll. "Pay out the cable," said Knös. Knös had his
sword of fifteen hundredweights at his side, and with it he cut off
all the troll's heads. But the fifteen hundredweights were
half-an-ounce short, and the heads grew on again, and the troll took
the princess, and carried her off with him.

One day as Knös was going along, he met a man carrying a church on his
back. "You are a strong man, you are!" said Knös. "No, I am not
strong," said he, "but Knös at the king's court, he is strong; for he
can take steel and iron, and weld them together with his hands as
though they were clay." "Well, I'm the man of whom you are speaking,"
said Knös, "come, let us travel together." And so they wandered on.

Then they met a man who carried a mountain of stone on his back. "You
are strong, you are!" said Knös. "No, I'm not strong," said the man
with the mountain of stone, "but Knös at the king's court, he is
strong; for he can weld together steel and iron with his hands as
though they were clay."

"Well, I am that Knös, come let us travel together," said Knös. So all
three of them traveled along together. Knös took them for a sea-trip;
but I think they had to leave the church and the hill of stone ashore.
While they were sailing they grew thirsty, and lay alongside an
island, and there on the island stood a castle, to which they decided
to go and ask for a drink. Now this was the very castle in which the
troll lived.

First the man with the church went, and when he entered the castle,
there sat the troll with the princess on his lap, and she was very
sad. He asked for something to drink. "Help yourself, the goblet is on
the table!" said the troll. But he got nothing to drink, for though he
could move the goblet from its place, he could not raise it.

Then the man with the hill of stone went into the castle and asked for
a drink. "Help yourself, the goblet is on the table!" said the troll.
And he got nothing to drink either, for though he could move the
goblet from its place, he could not raise it.

Then Knös himself went into the castle, and the princess was full of
joy and leaped down from the troll's lap when she saw it was he. Knös
asked for a drink. "Help yourself," said the troll, "the goblet is on
the table!" And Knös took the goblet and emptied it at a single
draught. Then he hit the troll across the head with the goblet, so
that he rolled from the chair and died.

Knös took the princess back to the royal palace, and O, how happy
every one was! The other princesses recognized Knös again, for they
had woven silk ribbons into his hair when they had combed it; but he
could only marry one of the princesses, whichever one he preferred, so
he chose the youngest. And when the king died, Knös inherited the
kingdom.

As for Red Peter, he had to go into the nail-barrel.

And now you know all that I know.


NOTE

     The leading personage of our first story, Knös (_Tecknigar og
     Toner ur skanska allmogenslif_, Lund, 1889, p. 14. From
     Gudmundstorp, Froste Harad) is one of those heroes of gigantic
     build, beloved of the North, who even when he eats,
     accomplishes deeds such as the old Norsemen told of their god
     Thor: the motive of the goblet with which the hero slays the
     giant, has been used in the _Hymiskvida_. (Comp. with v. d.
     Leyen, _Märchen in den Göttsagen der Edda_, p. 40.)




II

LASSE, MY THRALL!


Once upon a time there was a prince or a duke or whatever you choose
to call him, but at any rate a noble tremendously high-born, who did
not want to stay at home. And so he traveled about the world, and
wherever he went he was well received, and hobnobbed with the very
finest people; for he had an unheard of amount of money. He at once
found friends and acquaintances, no matter where he came; for whoever
has a full trough can always find pigs to thrust their snouts into it.
But since he handled his money as he did, it grew less and less, and
at last he was left high and dry, without a red cent. And there was an
end to all his many friends; for they did just as the pigs do. When he
had been well fleeced, they began to snivel and grunt, and soon
scattered, each about his own business. And there he stood, after
having been led about by the nose, abandoned by all. All had been glad
to help him get rid of his money; but none were willing to help him
regain it, so there was nothing left for him to do but to wander back
home again like a journeyman apprentice, and beg his way as he went.

Late one evening he found himself in a big forest, without any idea as
to where he might spend the night. And as he was looking around, his
glance happened to fall on an old hut, peeping out from among the
bushes. Of course an old hut was no lodging for such a fine gentleman;
but when we cannot have what we want, we must take what we can get,
and since there was no help for it, he went into the hut. There was
not even a cat in it, not even a stool to sit on. But against one wall
there was a great chest. What might there be in the chest? Suppose
there were a few moldy crusts of bread in it? They would taste good to
him, for he had not been given a single thing all day long, and he was
so hungry that his inwards stuck to his ribs. He opened the chest. But
within the chest was another chest, and in that chest still another
chest, and so it went, one always smaller than the other, until they
were nothing but little boxes. And the more there were of them the
more trouble he took to open them; for whatever was hidden away so
carefully must be something exceptionally beautiful, thought he.

At last he came to a tiny box, and in the tiny box was a slip of
paper--and that was all he had for his pains! At first he was much
depressed. But all at once, he saw that something was written on the
piece of paper, and on closer examination he was even able to spell
out the words, though they had a strange appearance. And he read:

"Lasse, my thrall!"

No sooner had he spoken these words than something answered, close to
his ear:

"What does my master command?"

He looked around, but saw no one. That's strange, thought he, and once
more read aloud:

"Lasse, my thrall!"

And just as before came the answer:

"What does my master command?"

"If there be some one about who hears what I say, he might be kind
enough to get me a little something to eat," said he; and at that very
moment a table, covered with all the good things to eat that one could
imagine, was standing in the hut. He at once began to eat and drink
and did well by himself. I have never had a better meal in my life,
thought he. And when his hunger was completely satisfied, he grew
sleepy and took up his scrap of paper again.

"Lasse, my thrall!"

"What does my master command?"

"Now that you have brought me food and drink, you must also bring me a
bed in which to sleep. But it must be a very fine bed," said he; for
as you may well imagine, his ideas were more top-lofty now that he had
eaten well. His command was at once obeyed; and a bed so fine and
handsome stood in the hut, that a king might have been glad to have
found such sleeping accommodations. Now this was all very well and
good; but the good can always be bettered, and when he had lain down,
he decided that, after all, the hut was far too wretched for such a
fine bed. He took up the scrap of paper:

"Lasse, my thrall!"

"What does my master command?"

"If you can produce such a meal, and such a bed here in the wild wood,
you must surely be able to give me a better room; for you know I am
one of those who are used to sleeping in a castle, with golden mirrors
and rugs of gold brocade and luxuries and conveniences of every kind,"
said he. And no sooner had he spoken the words, than he was lying in
the most magnificent room he had ever seen.

Now matters were arranged to suit him, and he was quite content as he
turned his face to the wall and closed his eyes.

But the room he had slept in was not the end of his magnificence. When
he woke the following morning and looked around, he saw that he had
been sleeping in a great castle. There was one room after another, and
wherever he went walls and ceilings were covered with ornaments and
decorations of every kind, all glittering so splendidly when the rays
of the sun fell on them that he had to put his hand to his eyes; for
wherever he looked everything sparkled with gold and silver. Then he
glanced out of the window and first began to realize how really
beautiful everything was. Gone were the fir-trees and juniper bushes,
and in their place showed the loveliest garden one might wish to see,
filled with beautiful trees and roses of every variety, in bush and
tree form. But there was not a human being in sight, not even a cat.
Yet he found it quite natural that everything should be so fine, and
that he should once more have become a great lord.

He took up the scrap of paper:

"Lasse, my thrall!"

"What does my master command?"

"Now that you have provided me with food and a castle in which to
dwell, I am going to stay here, because it suits me," said he, "but I
cannot live here all alone in this fashion. I must have serving-men
and serving-maids, at my command." And so it was. Servants and lackeys
and maids and serving-women of every description arrived, and some of
them bowed and others courtseyed, and now the duke really began to
feel content.

Now it happened that another great castle lay on the opposite side of
the forest, in which dwelt a king who owned the forest, and many broad
acres of field and meadow round about. And when the king came and
happened to look out of his window, he saw the new castle, on whose
roof the golden weathercocks were swinging to and fro, from time to
time, shining in his eyes.

"This is very strange," thought he, and sent for his courtiers. They
came without delay, bowing and scraping.

"Do you see the castle yonder?" said the king.

Their eyes grew as large as saucers and they looked.

Yes, indeed, they saw the castle.

"Who has dared to build such a castle on my ground?"

The courtiers bowed and scraped, but did not know. So the king sent
for his soldiers. They came tramping in and presented arms.

"Send out all my soldiers and horsemen," said the king, "tear down the
castle instantly, hang whoever built it, and see to this at once."

The soldiers assembled in the greatest haste and set forth. The
drummers beat their drums and the trumpeters blew their trumpets, and
the other musicians practiced their art, each in his own way; so that
the duke heard them long before they came in sight. But this was not
the first time he had heard music of this sort, and he knew what it
meant, so once more he took up the scrap of paper:

"Lasse, my thrall!"

"What does my master command?"

"There are soldiers coming," said he, "and now you must provide me
with soldiers and horsemen until I have twice as many as the folk on
the other side of the forest. And sabers and pistols and muskets and
cannon, and all that goes with them--but you must be quick about it!"

Quick it was, and when the duke looked out there was a countless host
of soldiers drawn up around the castle.

When the king's people arrived, they stopped and did not dare advance.
But the duke was by no means shy. He went at once to the king's
captain and asked him what he wanted.

The captain repeated his instructions.

"They will not gain you anything," said the duke. "You can see how
many soldiers I have, and if the king chooses to listen to me, we can
agree to become friends, I will aid him against all his enemies, and
what we undertake will succeed." The captain was pleased with this
proposal, so the duke invited him to the castle, together with all his
officers, and his soldiers were given a swallow or two of something
wet and plenty to eat along with it. But while the duke and the
officers were eating and drinking, there was more or less talk, and
the duke learned that the king had a daughter, as yet unmarried and so
lovely that her like had never been seen. And the more they brought
the king's officers to eat, the stronger they inclined to the opinion
that the king's daughter would make a good wife for the duke. And as
they talked about it, the duke himself began to think it over. The
worst of it was, said the officers, that she was very haughty, and
never even deigned to look at a man. But the duke only laughed. "If it
be no worse than that," he said, "it is a trouble that may be cured."

When at last the soldiers had stowed away as much as they could hold,
they shouted hurrah until they woke the echoes in the hills, and
marched away. One may imagine what a fine parade march it was, for
some of them had grown a little loose-jointed in the knees. The duke
charged them to carry his greetings to the king, and say that he would
soon pay him a visit.

When the duke was alone once more, he began to think of the princess
again, and whether she were really as beautiful as the soldiers had
said. He decided he would like to find out for himself. Since so many
strange things had happened that day, it was quite possible, thought
he.

"Lasse, my thrall!"

"What does my master command?"

"Only that you bring the king's daughter here, as soon as she has
fallen asleep," said he. "But mind that she does not wake up, either
on her way here, or on her way back." And before long there lay the
princess on the bed. She was sleeping soundly, and looked charming as
she lay there asleep. One had to admit that she was as sweet as sugar.
The duke walked all around her; but she appeared just as beautiful
from one side as from the other, and the more the duke looked at her,
the better she pleased him.

"Lasse, my thrall!"

"What does my master command?"

"Now you must take the princess home again," said he, "because now I
know what she looks like and to-morrow I shall sue for her hand."

The following morning the king stepped to the window. "Now I shall not
have to see that castle across the way," he thought to himself. But
the evil one must have had a hand in the matter--there stood the
castle just as before, and the sun was shining brightly on its roof,
and the weather-vanes were sending beams into his eyes.

The king once more fell into a rage, and shouted for all his people,
who hurried to him with more than usual rapidity. The courtiers bowed
and scraped and the soldiers marched in parade step and presented
arms.

"Do you see that castle there?" roared the king.

They stretched their necks, their eyes grew large as saucers and they
looked.

Yes, indeed, they saw it.

"Did I not order you to tear down that castle and hang its builder?"
he said.

This they could not deny; but now the captain himself stepped forward
and told what had occurred, and what an alarming number of soldiers
the duke had, and how magnificent his castle was.

Then he also repeated what the duke had said, and that he had sent his
greetings to the king.

All this made the king somewhat dizzy, and he had to set his crown on
the table and scratch his head. It was beyond his comprehension--for
all that he was a king; since he could have sworn that it had all come
to pass in the course of a single night, and if the duke were not the
devil himself, he was at least a magician.

And as he sat there and thought, the princess came in.

"God greet you, father," she said, "I had a most strange and lovely
dream last night."

"And what did you dream, my girl?" said the king.

"O, I dreamt that I was in the new castle over yonder, and there was a
duke, handsome and so splendid beyond anything I could have imagined,
and now I want a husband."

"What, you want a husband, and you have never even deigned to look at
a man; that is very strange!" said the king.

"Be that as it may," said the princess, "but that is how I feel now;
and I want a husband, and the duke is the husband I want," she
concluded.

The king simply could not get over the astonishment the duke had
caused him.

Suddenly he heard an extraordinary beating of drums, and sounding of
trumpets and other instruments of every kind. And a message came that
the duke had arrived with a great retinue, all so magnificently
attired that every seam of their dresses was sparkling with gold and
silver. The king, in his crown and finest robe of state, stood looking
down the stairway, and the princess was all the more in favor of
carrying out her idea as quickly as possible.

The duke greeted the king pleasantly, and the king returned his
greeting in the same way, and discussing their affairs together they
became good friends. There was a great banquet, and the duke sat
beside the princess at the table. What they said to each other I do
not know, but the duke knew so well how to talk that, no matter what
he said, the princess could not say no, and so he went to the king and
begged for her hand. The king could not exactly refuse it, for the
duke was the kind of a man whom it was better to have for a friend
than for an enemy; but he could not give his answer out of hand,
either. First he wished to see the duke's castle, and know how matters
stood with regard to this, that and the other--which was natural.

So it was agreed that they should pay the duke a visit and bring the
princess with them, in order that she might examine his possessions,
and with that they parted.

When the duke reached home, Lasse had a lively time of it, for he was
given any number of commissions. But he rushed about, carrying them
out, and everything was arranged so satisfactorily that when the king
arrived with his daughter, a thousand pens could not have described
it. They went through all the rooms and looked around, and everything
was as it should be, and even better thought the king, who was very
happy. Then the wedding was celebrated and when it was over, and the
duke returned home with his young wife, he, too, gave a splendid
banquet, and that is how it went.

After some time had passed, the duke one evening heard the words:

"Is my master content now?" It was Lasse, though the duke could not
see him.

"I am well content," answered the duke, "for you have brought me all
that I have."

"But what did I get for it?" said Lasse.

"Nothing," replied the duke, "but, heaven above, what was I to give
you, who are not flesh and blood, and whom I cannot even see," said
he. "Yet if there be anything I can do for you, why let me know what
it is, and I will do it."

"I would very much like to have the little scrap of paper that you
keep in the box," said Lasse.

"If that is all you want, and if such a trifle is of any service to
you, your wish shall be granted, for I believe I know the words by
heart now," said the duke.

Lasse thanked him, and said all the duke need do, would be to lay the
paper on the chair beside his bed, when he went to sleep, and that he
would fetch it during the night.

This the duke did, and then he went to bed and fell asleep.

But toward morning the duke woke up, freezing so that his teeth
chattered, and when he had fully opened his eyes, he saw that he had
been stripped of everything, and had scarcely a shirt to his name. And
instead of lying in the handsome bed in the handsome bed-room in the
magnificent castle, he lay on the big chest in the old hut. He at once
called out:

"Lasse, my thrall!" But there was no answer.

Then he cried again:

"Lasse, my thrall!" Again there was no answer. So he called out as
loudly as he could:

"Lasse, my thrall!" But this third call was also in vain.

Now he began to realize what had happened, and that Lasse, when he
obtained the scrap of paper, no longer had to serve him, and that he
himself had made this possible. But now things were as they were, and
there stood the duke in the old hut, with scarcely a shirt to his
name. The princess herself was not much better off, though she had
kept her clothes; for they had been given her by her father, and Lasse
had no power over them.

Now the duke had to explain everything to the princess, and beg her to
leave him, since it would be best if he tried to get along as well as
he could himself, said he. But this the princess would not do. She had
a better memory for what the pastor had said when he married them, she
told him, and that she was never, never to leave him.

At length the king awoke in his castle, and when he looked out of the
window, he saw not a single stone of the other castle in which his
son-in-law and his daughter lived. He grew uneasy and sent for his
courtiers.

They came in, bowing and scraping.

"Do you see the castle there, on the other side of the forest?" he
asked. They stretched their necks and opened their eyes. But they
could see nothing.

"What has become of it?" said the king. But this question they were
unable to answer.

In a short time the king and his entire court set out, passed through
the forest, and when they came to the place where the castle, with its
great gardens, should have been standing, they saw nothing but
juniper-bushes and scrub-pines. And then they happened to see the
little hut amid the brush. He went in and--O the poor king!--what did
he see?

There stood his son-in-law, with scarcely a shirt to his name, and his
daughter, and she had none too much to wear, and was crying and
sniveling at a fearful rate. "For heaven's sake, what is the trouble
here?" said the king. But he received no answer; for the duke would
rather have died than have told him the whole story.

The king urged and pressed him, first amiably, then in anger; but the
duke remained obstinate and would have nothing to say. Then the king
fell into a rage, which is not very surprising, for now he realized
that this fine duke was not what he purported to be, and he therefore
ordered him to be hung, and hung on the spot. It is true that the
princess pleaded earnestly for him, but tears and prayers were useless
now, for he was a rascal and should die a rascal's death--thus spake
the king.

And so it was. The king's people set up a gallows and put a rope
around the duke's neck. But as they were leading him to the gallows,
the princess got hold of the hangman and gave him a gratuity, for
which they were to arrange matters in such wise that the duke need not
die. And toward evening they were to cut him down, and he and the
princess would disappear. So the bargain was made. In the meantime
they strung him up and then the king, together with his court and all
the people, went away.

Now the duke was at the end of his rope. Yet he had time enough to
reflect about his mistake in not contenting himself with an inch
instead of reaching out at once for an ell; and that he had so
foolishly given back the scrap of paper to Lasse annoyed him most of
all. If I only had it again, I would show every one that adversity has
made me wise, he thought to himself. But when the horse is stolen we
close the stable door. And that is the way of the world.

And then he dangled his legs, since for the time being there was
nothing else for him to do.

It had been a long, hard day for him, and he was not sorry when he saw
the sun sinking behind the forest. But just as the sun was setting he
suddenly heard a most tremendous Yo ho! and when he looked down there
were seven carts of worn-out shoes coming along the road, and a-top
the last cart was a little old man in gray, with a night-cap on his
head. He had the face of some horrible specter, and was not much
better to look at in other respects.

He drove straight up to the gallows, and stopped when he was directly
beneath them, looked up at the duke and laughed--the horrible old
creature!

"And is this the measure of your stupidity?" he said, "but then what
is a fellow of your sort to do with his stupidity, if he does not put
it to some use?"--and then he laughed again. "Yes, there you hang, and
here I am carting off all the shoes I wore out going about on your
silly errands. I wonder, sometimes, whether you can actually read what
is written on that scrap of paper, and whether you recognize it," said
he, laughing again, indulging in all sorts of horse-play, and waving
the scrap of paper under the duke's nose.

But all who are hanging on the gallows are not dead, and this time
Lasse was the greater fool of the two.

The duke snatched--and tore the scrap of paper from his hand!

"Lasse, my thrall!"

"What does my master command?"

"Cut me down from the gallows at once, and restore the castle and
everything else just as it was before, then when it is dark, bring the
princess back to it."

Everything was attended to with alarming rapidity, and soon all was
exactly as it had been before Lasse had decamped.

When the king awoke the following morning, he looked out of the window
as usual, and there the castle was standing as before, with its
weathercocks gleaming handsomely in the sunlight. He sent for his
courtiers, and they came in bowing and scraping.

"Do you see the castle over yonder?" asked the king.

They stretched their necks, and gazed and stared. Yes, indeed, they
could see the castle.

Then the king sent for the princess; but she was not there. Thereupon
the king set off to see whether his son-in-law was hanging in the
appointed spot; but no, there was not a sign of either son-in-law or
gallows.

Then he had to take off his crown and scratch his head. Yet that did
not change matters, and he could not for the life of him understand
why things should be as they were. Finally he set out with his entire
court, and when they reached the spot where the castle should have
been standing, there it stood.

The gardens and the roses were just as they had been, and the duke's
servitors were to be seen in swarms beneath the trees. His son-in-law
in person, together with his daughter, dressed in the finest clothes,
came down the stairs to meet him.

The devil has a hand in it, thought the king; and so strange did all
seem to him that he did not trust the evidence of his own eyes.

"God greet you and welcome, father!" said the duke. The king could
only stare at him. "Are you, are you my son-in-law?" he asked.

"Why, of course," said the duke, "who else am I supposed to be?"

"Did I not have you strung up yesterday as a thief and a vagabond?"
inquired the king.

"I really believe father has gone out of his mind on the way over to
us," said the duke and laughed.

"Does father think that I would allow myself to be hanged so easily?
Or is there any one present who dare suppose such a thing?" he said,
and looked them straight in the eye, so that they knew he was looking
at them. They bent their backs and bowed and scraped.

"And who can imagine any such thing? How could it be possible? Or
should there be any one present who dare say that the king wishes me
ill, let him speak out," said the duke, and gazed at them with even
greater keenness than before. All bent their backs and bowed and
scraped.

How should any of them come to any such conclusion? No, none of them
were foolish to such a degree, they said.

Now the king was really at a loss to know what to think. When he
looked at the duke he felt sure that he could never have wished to
harm him, and yet--he was not quite sure.

"Was I not here yesterday, and was not the whole castle gone, and had
not an old hut taken its place, and did I not enter the hut and see
you standing there with scarcely a shirt to your name?" he asked.

"How father talks," said the duke. "I am afraid, very much afraid,
that trolls have blinded you, and led you astray in the forest. What
do you think?" he said and turned to the courtiers.

They at once bowed and cringed fifty times in succession, and took the
duke's side, as stands to reason.

The king rubbed his eyes and looked around.

"It must be as you say," he told the duke, "and I believe that I have
recovered my reason, and have found my eyes again. And it would have
been a sin and shame had I had you hung," said he. Then he grew joyful
and no one gave the matter further thought.

But adversity teaches one to be wise, so people say, and the duke now
began to attend to most things himself, and to see to it that Lasse
did not have to wear out so many pairs of shoes. The king at once
bestowed half the kingdom upon him, which gave him plenty to do, and
people said that one would have to look far in order to find a better
ruler.

Then Lasse came to the duke one day, and though he did not look much
better than before, he was more civil and did not venture to grin and
carry on.

"You no longer need my help," said he, "for though formerly I used to
wear out all my shoes, I now cannot even wear out a single pair, and I
almost believe my legs are moss-grown. Will you not discharge me?"

The duke thought he could. "I have taken great pains to spare you, and
I really believe that I can get along without you," he replied. "But
the castle here and all the other things I could not well dispense
with, since I never again could find an architect like yourself, and
you may take for granted that I have no wish to ornament the
gallows-tree a second time. Therefore I will not, of my own free will,
give you back the scrap of paper," said he.

"While it is in your possession I have nothing to fear," answered
Lasse.

"But should the paper fall into other hands, then I should have to
begin to run and work all over again and that, just that, is what I
would like to prevent. When a fellow has been working a thousand
years, as I have, he is bound to grow weary at last."

So they came to the conclusion that the duke should put the scrap of
paper in its little box and bury it seven ells underground, beneath a
stone that had grown there and would remain there as well. Then they
thanked each other for pleasant comradeship and separated. The duke
did as he had agreed to do, and no one saw him hide the box. He lived
happily with his princess, and was blessed with sons and daughters.
When the king died, he inherited the whole kingdom and, as you may
imagine, he was none the worse off thereby, and no doubt he is still
living and ruling there, unless he has died.

As to the little box containing the scrap of paper, many are still
digging and searching for it.


NOTE

     Extremely popular in Sweden, and delightfully told is "Lasse,
     my thrall." (Djurklau, _Sagor och Aefventyr pa Svenska
     Landsmal_. Stockholm, 1883. Set down in the dialect of Nerike).
     It is the old story of Aladdin and the wonderful lamp, but
     recounted in quite an original form.




III

FINN, THE GIANT, AND THE MINSTER OF LUND


There stands in the university town of Schonen, the town of Lund, the
seat of the first archbishopric in all Scandinavia, a stately Romanic
minster, with a large, handsome crypt beneath the choir. The opinion
is universal that the minster will never be altogether finished, but
that something will always be lacking about the structure. The reason
is said to be as follows:

When St. Lawrence came to Lund to preach the Gospel, he wanted to
build a church; but did not know how he was to obtain the means to do
so.

While he was cudgelling his brains about it, a giant came to him and
offered to build the church on condition that St. Lawrence tell him
his name before the church was completed. But should St. Lawrence be
unable to do so, the giant was to receive either the sun, the moon or
St. Lawrence's eyes. The saint agreed to his proposal.

The building of the church made rapid progress, and ere long it was
nearly finished. St. Lawrence thought ruefully about his prospects,
for he did not know the giant's name; yet at the same time he did not
relish losing his eyes. And it happened that while he was walking
without the town, much concerned about the outcome of the affair, he
grew weary, and sat down on a hill to rest. As he sat there he heard a
child crying within the hill, and a woman's voice began to sing:

    "Sleep, sleep, my baby dear,
    To-morrow your father, Finn, will be here;
    Then sun and moon you shall have from the skies
    To play with, or else St. Lawrence's eyes."

When St. Lawrence heard that he was happy; for now he knew the giant's
name. He ran back quickly to town, and went to the church. There sat
the giant on the roof, just about to set the last stone in place, when
at that very moment the saint called out:

    "Finn, Finn,
    Take care how you put the stone in!"

Then the giant flung the stone from him, full of rage, said that the
church should never be finished, and with that he disappeared. Since
then something has always been missing from the church.

Others say that the giant and his wife rushed down into the crypt in
their rage, and each seizing a column were about to tear down the
church, when they were turned into stone, and may be seen to this day
standing beside the columns they had grasped.


NOTE

     "Finn, the Giant, and the Minster of Lund" (retold by Dr. v.
     Sydow-Lund, after variants in his collection), is the
     world-famous tale of the giant master-builder, which appears
     here as a legend, and is connected with various celebrated
     churches, as for instance the Minster of Drontheim. Its close
     is an inversion of the motive of guessing a name, which we have
     already encountered in the Danish fairy-tale "Trillevip."




IV

THE SKALUNDA GIANT


In the Skalunda mountain, near the church, there once lived a giant in
the early days, who no longer felt comfortable after the church had
been built there. At length he decided that he could no longer stand
the ringing of the church bells; so he emigrated and settled down on
an island far out in the North Sea. Once upon a time a ship was
wrecked on this island, and among those saved were several people from
Skalunda.

"Whence do you hail?" asked the giant, who by now had grown old and
blind, and sat warming himself before a log fire.

"We are from Skalunda, if you wish to know," said one of the men
saved.

"Give me your hand, so that I may feel whether there is still warm
blood to be found in the Swedish land," said the giant.

The man, who feared to shake hands with the giant, drew a red-hot bar
of iron from the fire and handed it to him. He seized it firmly, and
pressed it so hard that the molten iron ran down between his fingers.

"Yes, there is still warm blood to be found in Sweden," said he. "And
tell me," he continued, "is Skalunda mountain still standing?"

"No, the hens have scratched it away," the man answered.

"How could it last?" said the giant. "My wife and daughter piled it up
in the course of a single Sunday morning. But surely the Hallenberg
and the Hunneberg are still standing, for those I built myself."

When the man had confirmed this, the giant wanted to know whether
Karin was still living in Stommen. And when they told him that she
was, he gave them a girdle, and with it the message that Karin was to
wear it in remembrance of him.

The men took the girdle and gave it to Karin upon their return home;
but before Karin put it on, she clasped it around the oak-tree that
grew in the court. No sooner had she done so than the oak tore itself
out of the ground, and flew to the North, borne away by the
storm-wind. In the place where it had stood was a deep pit, and the
roots of the tree were so enormous that one of the best springs in
Stommen flows from one of the root-holes to this very day.


NOTE

     "The Skalunda Giant" (Hofberg, _Svenska Folksagner_, Stockholm,
     1882, p. 98) has a near relative in the Norwegian mountain
     giant of Mesingeberg, of whom Asbjörnsen tells.




V

YULETIDE SPECTERS


Once upon a time there lived two peasants on a homestead called
Vaderas, just as there are two peasants living on it now. In those
days the roads were good, and the women were in the habit of riding
when they wanted to go to church.

One Christmas the two women agreed that they would ride to Christmas
night mass, and whichever one of them woke up at the right time was to
call the other, for in those days there was no such thing as a watch.
It was about midnight when one of the women thought she heard a voice
from the window, calling: "I am going to set out now." She got up
hurriedly and dressed herself, so that she might be able to ride with
the other woman; but since there was no time to eat, she took a piece
of bread from the table along with her. In those times it was
customary to bake the bread in the shape of a cross. It was a piece of
this kind that the woman took and put in her pocket, in order to eat
it underway. She rode as fast as she could, to catch up with her
friend, but could not overtake her. The way led over a little stream
which flows into Vidostern Lake, and across the stream was a bridge,
known as the Earth Bridge, and on the bridge stood two witch trolls,
busy washing. As the woman came riding across the bridge, one of the
witch trolls called out to the other, "Hurry, and tear her head from
her shoulders!"

"That I cannot do" returned the other, "because she has a bit of bread
in the form of a cross in her pocket."

The woman, who had been unable to catch up with her neighbor, reached
the church at Hanger alone.

The church was full of lights, as was always the case when the
Christmas mass was said. As quickly as ever she could the woman tied
up her horse, and hurriedly entered the church. It seemed to her that
the church was crowded with people; but all of them were headless, and
at the altar stood the priest, in full canonicals but without a head.
In her haste she did not at once see how things were; but sat down in
her accustomed place. As she sat down it seemed to her that some one
said: "If I had not stood godfather to you when you were christened, I
would do away with you as you sit there, and now hurry and make
yourself scarce, or it will be the worse for you!" Then she realized
that things were not as they should be, and ran out hastily.

When she came into the church-yard, it seemed to her as though she
were surrounded by a great crowd of people. In those days people wore
broad mantles of unbleached wool, woven at home, and white in color.
She was wearing one of these mantles and the specters seized it. But
she flung it away from her and managed to escape from the church-yard,
and run to the poor-house and wake the people there. It is said it was
then one o'clock at night.

So she sat and waited for the early mass at four o'clock in the
morning. And when day finally dawned, they found a little piece of her
mantle on every grave in the church-yard.

A similar experience befell a man and his wife who lived in a hut
known as Ingas, below Mosled.

They were no more than an hour ahead of time; but when they reached
the church at Hanger, they thought the service had already begun, and
wanted to enter at once; but the church was barred and bolted, and the
phantom service of the dead was nearing its end. And when the actual
mass began, there was found lying at every place some of the earth
from the graves of those who shortly before had been worshiping. The
man and his wife thereupon fell grievously ill, because they had
disturbed the dead.


NOTE

     "Yuletide Spectres." The tale of the weird service of the dead
     on Christmas night is common throughout Scandinavia. (From an
     mss. communicated by Dr. v. Sydow-Lund).




VI

SILVERWHITE AND LILLWACKER


Once upon a time there was a king, who had a queen whom he loved with
a great love. But after a time the queen died, and all he had left was
an only daughter. And now that the king was a widower, his whole heart
went out to the little princess, whom he cherished as the apple of his
eye. And the king's young daughter grew up into the most lovely maiden
ever known.

When the princess had seen the snows of fifteen winters, it happened
that a great war broke out, and that her father had to march against
the foe.

But there was no one to whom the king could entrust his daughter while
he was away at war; so he had a great tower built out in the forest,
provided it with a plenteous store of supplies, and in it shut up his
daughter and a maid. And he had it proclaimed that every man, no
matter who he might be, was forbidden to approach the tower in which
he had placed his daughter and the maid, under pain of death.

Now the king thought he had taken every precaution to protect his
daughter, and went off to war. In the meantime the princess and her
maid sat in the tower. But in the city there were a number of brave
young sons of kings, as well as other young men, who would have liked
to have talked to the beautiful maiden. And when they found that this
was forbidden them, they conceived a great hatred for the king. At
length they took counsel with an old woman who was wiser than most
folk, and told her to arrange matters in such wise that the king's
daughter and her maid might come into disrepute, without their having
anything to do with it. The old hag promised to help them, enchanted
some apples, laid them in a basket, and went to the lonely tower in
which the maidens lived.

When the king's daughter and her maid saw the old woman, who was
sitting beneath the window, they felt a great longing to try the
beautiful apples.

So they called out and asked how much she wanted for her precious
apples; but the old woman said they were not for sale. Yet as the
girls kept on pleading with her, the old woman said she would make
each of them a present of an apple; they only need let down a little
basket from the tower. The princess and her maid, in all innocence,
did as the troll-woman told them, and each received an apple. But the
enchanted fruit had a strange effect, for in due course of time heaven
sent them each a child. The king's daughter called her son
Silverwhite, and the son of her maid received the name of Lillwacker.

The two boys grew up larger and stronger than other children, and were
very handsome as well. They looked as much alike as one cherry-pit
does to another, and one could easily see that they were related.

Seven years had passed, and the king was expected home from the war.
Then both girls were terrified, and they took counsel together as to
how they might hide their children. When at length they could find no
other way out of the difficulty, they very sorrowfully bade their
children farewell, and let them down from the tower at night, to seek
their fortune in the wide, wide world. At parting the king's daughter
gave Silverwhite a costly knife; but the maid had nothing to give her
son.

The two foster-brethren now wandered out into the world. After they
had gone a while, they came to a dark forest. And in this forest they
met a man, strange-looking and very tall. He wore two swords at his
side, and was accompanied by six great dogs. He gave them a friendly
greeting:

"Good-day, little fellows, whence do you come and whither do you go?"
The boys told him they came from a high tower, and were going out into
the world to seek their fortune. The man replied:

"If such be the case, I know more about your origin than any one else.
And that you may have something by which to remember your father, I
will give each of you a sword and three dogs. But you must promise me
one thing, that you will never part from your dogs; but take them with
you wherever you go." The boys thanked the man for his kind gifts, and
promised to do as he had told them. Then they bade him farewell and
went their way.

When they had traveled for some time they reached a cross-road. Then
Silverwhite said:

"It seems to me that it would be the best for us to try our luck
singly, so let us part." Lillwacker answered: "Your advice is good;
but how am I to know whether or not you are doing well out in the
world?"

"I will give you a token by which you may tell," said Silverwhite, "so
long as the water runs clear in this spring you will know that I am
alive; but if it turns red and roiled, it will mean that I am dead."
Silverwhite then drew runes in the water of the spring, said farewell
to his brother, and each of them went on alone. Lillwacker soon came
to a king's court, and took service there; but every morning he would
go to the spring to see how his brother fared.

Silverwhite continued to wander over hill and dale, until he reached a
great city. But the whole city was in mourning, the houses were hung
in black, and all the inhabitants went about full of grief and care,
as though some great misfortune had occurred.

Silverwhite went though the city and inquired as to the cause of all
the unhappiness he saw. They answered: "You must have come from far
away, since you do not know that the king and queen were in danger of
being drowned at sea, and he had to promise to give up their three
daughters in order to escape. To-morrow morning the sea-troll is
coming to carry off the oldest princess." This news pleased
Silverwhite; for he saw a fine opportunity to wealth and fame, should
fortune favor him.

The next morning Silverwhite hung his sword at his side, called his
dogs to him, and wandered down to the sea-shore alone. And as he sat
on the strand he saw the king's daughter led out of the city, and with
her went a courtier, who had promised to rescue her. But the princess
was very sad and cried bitterly. Then Silverwhite stepped up to her
with a polite greeting. When the king's daughter and her escort saw
the fearless youth, they were much frightened, because they thought he
was the sea-troll. The courtier was so alarmed that he ran away and
took refuge in a tree. When Silverwhite saw how frightened the
princess was, he said: "Lovely maiden, do not fear me, for I will do
you no harm." The king's daughter answered:

"Are you the troll who is coming to carry me away?" "No," said
Silverwhite, "I have come to rescue you." Then the princess was glad
to think that such a brave hero was going to defend her, and they
had a long, friendly talk. At the same time Silverwhite begged the
king's daughter to comb his hair. She complied with his request, and
Silverwhite laid his head in her lap; but when he did so the princess
drew a golden ring from her finger and, unbeknown to him, wound it
into his locks.

[Illustration: "THEN SILVERWHITE DREW HIS SWORD WITH A GREAT SWEEP
AND RUSHED UPON THE SEA-TROLL."]

Suddenly the sea-troll rose from the deeps, setting the waves whirling
and foaming far and near. When the troll saw Silverwhite, he grew
angry and said: "Why do you sit there beside my princess?" The youth
replied: "It seems to me that she is my princess, not yours." The
sea-troll answered: "Time enough to see which of us is right; but
first our dogs shall fight." Silverwhite was nothing loath, and set
his dogs at the dogs of the troll, and there was a fierce struggle.
But at last the youth's dogs got the upper hand and bit the dogs of
the sea-troll to death. Then Silverwhite drew his sword with a great
sweep, rushed upon the sea-troll, and gave him such a tremendous blow
that the monster's head rolled on the sand. The troll gave a fearsome
cry, and flung himself back into the sea, so that the water spurted to
the very skies. Thereupon the youth drew out his silver-mounted knife,
cut out the troll's eyes and put them in his pocket. Then he saluted
the lovely princess and went away.

Now when the battle was over and the youth had disappeared, the
courtier crawled down from his tree, and threatened to kill the
princess if she did not say before all the people that he, and none
other, had rescued her. The king's daughter did not dare refuse, since
she feared for her life. So she returned to her father's castle with
the courtier, where they were received with great distinction.

And joy reigned throughout the land when the news spread that the
oldest princess had been rescued from the troll.

On the following day everything repeated itself. Silverwhite went down
to the strand and met the second princess, just as she was to be
delivered to the troll.

And when the king's daughter and her escort saw him, they were very
much frightened, thinking he was the sea-troll. And the courtier
climbed a tree, just as he had before; but the princess granted the
youth's petition, combed his hair as her sister had done, and also
wound her gold ring into his long curls.

After a time there was a great tumult out at sea, and a sea-troll rose
from the waves. He had three heads and three dogs. But Silverwhite's
dogs overcame those of the troll, and the youth killed the troll
himself with his sword. Thereupon he took out his silver-mounted
knife, cut out the troll's eyes, and went his way. But the courtier
lost no time. He climbed down from his tree and forced the princess
to promise to say that he, and none other, had rescued her. Then they
returned to the castle, where the courtier was acclaimed as the
greatest of heroes.

On the third day Silverwhite hung his sword at his side, called his
three dogs to him, and again wandered down to the sea-shore. As he was
sitting by the strand, he saw the youngest princess led out of the
city, and with her the daring courtier who claimed to have rescued her
sisters. But the princess was very sad and cried bitterly. Then
Silverwhite stepped up and greeted the lovely maiden politely. Now
when the king's daughter and her escort saw the handsome youth, they
were very much frightened, for they believed him to be the sea-troll,
and the courtier ran away and hid in a high tree that grew near the
strand. When Silverwhite noticed the maiden's terror, he said:

"Lovely maiden, do not fear me, for I will do you no harm." The king's
daughter answered: "Are you the troll who is coming to carry me away?"
"No," said Silverwhite, "I have come to rescue you." Then the princess
was very glad to have such a brave hero fight for her, and they had a
long, friendly talk with each other. At the same time Silverwhite
begged the lovely maiden to do him a favor and comb his hair. This the
king's daughter was most willing to do, and Silverwhite laid his head
in her lap. But when the princess saw the gold rings her sisters had
wound in his locks, she was much surprised, and added her own to the
others.

Suddenly the sea-troll came shooting up out of the deep with a
terrific noise, so that waves and foam spurted to the very skies. This
time the monster had six heads and nine dogs. When the troll saw
Silverwhite sitting with the king's daughter, he fell into a rage and
cried: "What are you doing with my princess?" The youth answered: "It
seems to me that she is my princess rather than yours." Thereupon the
troll said: "Time enough to see which of us is right; but first our
dogs shall fight each other." Silverwhite did not delay, but set his
dogs at the sea-dogs, and they had a battle royal. But in the end the
youth's dogs got the upper hand and bit all nine of the sea-dogs to
death. Finally Silverwhite drew out his bare sword, flung himself upon
the sea-troll, and stretched all six of his heads on the sand with a
single blow. The monster uttered a terrible cry, and rushed back into
the sea so that the water spurted to the heavens. Then the youth drew
his silver-mounted knife, cut out all twelve of the troll's eyes,
saluted the king's young daughter, and hastily went away.

Now that the battle was over, and the youth had disappeared, the
courtier climbed down from his tree, drew his sword and threatened to
kill the princess unless she promised to say that he had rescued her
from the troll, as he had her sisters.

The king's daughter did not dare refuse, since she feared for her
life. So they went back to the castle together, and when the king saw
that they had returned in safety, without so much as a scratch, he and
the whole court were full of joy, and they were accorded great honors.
And at court the courtier was quite another fellow from the one who
had hid away in the tree. The king had a splendid banquet prepared,
with amusements and games, and the sound of string music and dancing,
and bestowed the hand of his youngest daughter on the courtier in
reward for his bravey.

In the midst of the wedding festivities, when the king and his whole
court were seated at table, the door opened, and in came Silverwhite
with his dogs.

The youth stepped boldly into the hall of state and greeted the king.
And when the three princesses saw who it was, they were full of joy,
leaped up from their places, and ran over to him, much to the king's
surprise, who asked what it all meant. Then the youngest princess told
him all that had happened, from beginning to end, and that Silverwhite
had rescued them, while the courtier sat in a tree. To prove it beyond
any chance of doubt, each of the king's daughters showed her father
the ring she had wound in Silverwhite's locks. But the king still did
not know quite what to think of it all, until Silverwhite said: "My
lord king! In order that you need not doubt what your daughters have
told you, I will show you the eyes of the sea-trolls whom I slew."
Then the king and all the rest saw that the princesses had told the
truth. The traitorous courtier received his just punishment; but
Silverwhite was paid every honor, and was given the youngest daughter
and half of the kingdom with her.

After the wedding Silverwhite established himself with his young bride
in a large castle belonging to the king, and there they lived quietly
and happily.

One night, when all were sleeping, it chanced that he heard a knocking
at the window, and a voice which said: "Come, Silverwhite, I have to
talk to you!" The king, who did not want to wake his young wife, rose
hastily, girded on his sword, called his dogs and went out. When he
reached the open air, there stood a huge and savage-looking troll. The
troll said: "Silverwhite, you have slain my three brothers, and I have
come to bid you go down to the sea-shore with me, that we may fight
with one another." This proposal suited the youth, and he followed the
troll without protest. When they reached the sea-shore, there lay
three great dogs belonging to the troll. Silverwhite at once set his
dogs at the troll-dogs, and after a hard struggle the latter had to
give in. The young king drew his sword, bravely attacked the troll and
dealt him many a mighty blow. It was a tremendous battle. But when
the troll noticed he was getting the worst of it, he grew frightened,
quickly ran to a high tree, and clambered into it. Silverwhite and the
dogs ran after him, the dogs barking as loudly as they could. Then the
troll begged for his life and said: "Dear Silverwhite, I will take
wergild for my brothers, only bid your dogs be still, so that we may
talk." The king bade his dogs be still, but in vain, they only barked
the more loudly. Then the troll tore three hairs from his head, handed
them to Silverwhite and said: "Lay a hair on each of the dogs, and
then they will be as quiet as can be." The king did so and at once the
dogs fell silent, and lay motionless as though they had grown fast to
the ground. Now Silverwhite realized that he had been deceived; but it
was too late. The troll was already descending from the tree, and he
drew his sword and again began to fight. But they had exchanged no
more than a few blows, before Silverwhite received a mortal wound, and
lay on the earth in a pool of blood.

But now we must tell about Lillwacker. The next morning he went to the
spring by the cross-road and found it red with blood. Then he knew
that Silverwhite was dead. He called his dogs, hung his sword at his
side, and went on until he came to a great city. And the city was in
festal array, the streets were crowded with people, and the houses
were hung with scarlet cloths and splendid rugs. Lillwacker asked why
everybody was so happy, and they said: "You must hail from distant
parts, since you do not know that a famous hero has come here by the
name of Silverwhite, who has rescued our three princesses, and is now
the king's son-in-law." Lillwacker then inquired how it had all come
about, and then went his way, reaching the royal castle in which
Silverwhite dwelt with his beautiful queen in the evening.

When Lillwacker entered the castle gate, all greeted him as though he
had been the king. For he resembled his foster-brother so closely that
none could tell one from the other. When the youth came to the queen's
room, she also took him for Silverwhite. She went up to him and said:
"My lord king, where have you been so long? I have been awaiting you
with great anxiety." Lillwacker said little, and was very taciturn.
Then he lay down on a couch in a corner of the queen's room.

The young woman did not know what to think of his actions; for her
husband did not act queerly at other times. But she thought: "One
should not try to discover the secrets of others," and said nothing.

In the night, when all were sleeping, there was a knocking at the
window, and a voice cried: "Come, Lillwacker, I have to talk to you!"
The youth rose hastily, took his good sword, called his dogs and
went. When he reached the open air, there stood the same troll who had
slain Silverwhite. He said: "Come with me, Lillwacker, and then you
shall see your foster-brother!" To this Lillwacker at once agreed, and
the troll led the way. When they came to the sea-shore, there lay the
three great dogs whom the troll had brought with him. Somewhat further
away, where they had fought, lay Silverwhite in a pool of blood, and
beside him his dogs were stretched out on the ground as though they
had taken root in it. Then Lillwacker saw how everything had happened,
and thought that he would gladly venture his life, if he might in some
way call his brother back from the dead. He at once set his dogs at
the troll-dogs, and they had a hard struggle, in which Lillwacker's
dogs won the victory. Then the youth drew his sword, and attacked the
troll with mighty blows. But when the troll saw that he was getting
the worst of it, he took refuge in a lofty tree. Lillwacker and his
dogs ran after him and the dogs barked loudly.

Then the troll humbly begged for his life, and said: "Dear Lillwacker,
I will give you wergild for your brother, only bid your dogs be still,
so that we may talk." At the same time the troll handed him three
hairs from his head and added: "Lay one of these hairs on each of your
dogs, and then they will soon be quiet." But Lillwacker saw through
his cunning scheme, took the three hairs and laid them on the
troll-dogs, which at once fell on the ground and lay like dead.

When the troll saw that his attempt had failed, he was much alarmed
and said: "Dearest Lillwacker, I will give you wergild for your
brother, if you will only leave me alone." But the youth answered:

"What is there you can give me that will compensate for my brother's
life?" The troll replied: "Here are two flasks. In one is a liquid
which, if you anoint a dead man with it, it will restore him to life;
but as to the liquid in the other flask, if you moisten anything with
it, and some one touches the place you have moistened, he will be
unable to move from the spot. I think it would be hard to find
anything more precious than the liquid in these flasks." Lillwacker
said: "Your proposal suits me, and I will accept it. But there is
something else you must promise to do: that you will release my
brother's dogs." The troll agreed, climbed down from the tree,
breathed on the dogs and thus freed them. Then Lillwacker took the two
flasks and went away from the sea-shore with the troll. After they had
gone a while they came to a great flat stone, lying near the highway.
Lillwacker hastened on in advance and moistened it with liquid from
the second flask. Then, as he was going by, Lillwacker suddenly set
all six of his dogs at the troll, who stepped back and touched the
stone. There he stuck, and could move neither forward nor backward.
After a time the sun rose and shone on the stone. And when the troll
saw the sun he burst--and was as dead as a doornail!

Lillwacker now ran back to his brother and sprinkled him with the
liquid in the other flask, so that he came to life again, and they
were both very happy, as may well be imagined. The two foster-brothers
then returned to the castle, recounting the story of their experiences
and adventures on the way. Lillwacker told how he had been taken for
his brother. He even mentioned that he had lain down on a couch in a
corner of the queen's room, and that she had never suspected that he
was not her rightful husband. But when Silverwhite heard that, he
thought that Lillwacker had offended against the queen's dignity, and
he grew angry and fell into such a rage that he drew his sword, and
thrust it into his brother's breast. Lillwacker fell to earth dead,
and Silverwhite went home to the castle alone. But Lillwacker's dogs
would not leave their master, and lay around him, whining and licking
his wound.

In the evening, when the young king and his wife retired, the queen
asked him why he had been so taciturn and serious the evening before.
Then the queen said: "I am very curious to know what has befallen you
during the last few days, but what I would like to know most of all,
is why you lay down on a couch in a corner of my room the other
night?" Now it was clear to Silverwhite that the brother he had slain
was innocent of all offense, and he felt bitter regret at having
repaid his faithfulness so badly. So King Silverwhite at once rose and
went to the place where his brother was lying. He poured the water of
life from his flask and anointed his brother's wound, and in a moment
Lillwacker was alive again, and the two brother's went joyfully back
to the castle.

When they got there, Silverwhite told his queen how Lillwacker had
rescued him from death, and all the rest of their adventures, and all
were happy at the royal court, and they paid the youth the greatest
honors and compliments. After he had stayed there a time he sued for
the hand of the second princess and obtained it. Thereupon the wedding
was celebrated with great pomp, and Silverwhite divided his half of
the kingdom with his foster-brother. The two brothers continued to
live together in peace and unity, and if they have not died, they are
living still.


NOTE

     From a venerable Indo-Germanic source comes the widely
     circulated story of "Silverwhite and Lillwacker," the faithful
     brothers (Hyltén-Cavallius and Stephens, _Svenska Folkasagor
     och Aefventyr_, Stockholm, 1848, p. 58. From Vermland).




VII

STOMPE PILT


Not far from Baalsberg, near Filkestad in the Willandsharad, there is
a hill in which a giant named Stompe Pilt once used to live.

It happened one day that a goat-herd was driving his flock up the hill
in which Stompe Pilt dwelt.

"Who is there?" cried the giant, and rushed out of his hill with a
hunk of flint-rock in his fist.

"I am, if that's what you want to know!" shouted the shepherd-lad and
continued driving his goats up the hill.

"If you come here, I will squash you as I squash this stone!" cried
the giant and he crushed it into fine sand between his fingers.

"And I will squash you till the water runs out, just as I squash this
stone!" answered the shepherd-lad, drawing a fresh cheese from his
pocket, and pressing it hard, so that the water ran from his fingers.

"Are you not frightened?" asked the giant.

"Of you? Certainly not!" was the youth's reply.

"Then we will fight with one another!" proposed the giant.

"As you choose," replied the shepherd, "but first we must abuse each
other so that we can get into a proper rage, because as we abuse each
other we will grow angry, and when we are angry we will fight!"

"But I shall begin by abusing you," said the giant.

"As you choose," said the youth, "but then it will be my turn."

"May a troll with a crooked nose take you!" yelled the giant.

"May a flying devil carry you off!" answered the shepherd and he shot
a sharp arrow against the giant's body with his bow.

"What was that?" asked the giant, and tried to pull the arrow out of
his body.

"That was a word of abuse," said the shepherd.

"How does it come to have feathers?" asked the giant.

"The better to fly with," answered the shepherd.

"Why does it stick so tight?" the giant continued.

"Because it has taken root in your body," was the shepherd's answer.

"Have you any other abusive words of the same sort?" asked the giant.
"Here is another one," replied the youth, and shot another arrow into
the giant.

"Ouch, ouch!" cried Stompe Pilt, "are you still not angry enough for
us to come to blows?"

"No, I have not abused you enough as yet," said the shepherd and aimed
another arrow.

"Lead your goats wherever you choose! If I cannot stand your abusive
words, I surely will not be able to bear up against your blows," cried
Stompe Pilt, and jumped back into his hill.

And that is how the shepherd gained the victory, because he was brave
and did not let the stupid giant frighten him.


NOTE

     An entertaining parody of the serious tale of David and Goliath
     is the story of the little shepherd boy's fight with the giant
     Stompe Pilt. (Hofberg, p. 10).




VIII

THE GIRL AND THE SNAKE


Once upon a time there was a girl who was to go to the wood and drive
the cattle home; but she did not find the herd, and losing her way
instead, came to a great hill. It had gates and doors and she went in.
There stood a table covered with all sorts of good things to eat. And
there stood a bed as well, and in the bed lay a great snake. The snake
said to the girl: "Sit down, if you choose! Eat, if you choose! Come
and lie down in the bed, if you choose! But if you do not choose, then
do not do so." So the girl did nothing at all. At last the snake said:
"Some people are coming now who want you to dance with them. But do
not go along with them." Straightway people arrived who wanted to
dance with the girl; but she would hear nothing of it. Then they began
to eat and drink; but the girl left the hill and went home. The
following day she again went to the wood to look for the cattle, did
not find them, lost her way again, and came to the same hill. This
time she also entered, and found everything as it had been the first
time, the well-spread table and the bed with the snake in it. And the
snake said to her, as before: "Sit down, if you choose! Eat, if you
choose! Come, and lie down in the bed if you choose! But if you do not
choose, then do not do so! Now a great many more people are coming who
will want to dance with you, but do not go with them." The snake had
scarcely concluded before a great many people arrived, who began to
dance, eat and drink; but the girl did not keep them company, instead
she left the hill and went home.

On the third day when she once more went to the wood, everything
happened exactly as on the first and second day. The snake invited her
to eat and drink, and this time she did so, with a hearty appetite.
Then the snake told her to lie down beside him and the girl obeyed.
Then the snake said: "Put your arm about me!" She did so. "And now
kiss me," said the snake, "but if you are afraid, put your apron
between us." The girl did so, and in a moment the snake was turned
into a marvellously handsome youth, who was really a prince, bewitched
in the form of a snake by magic spells, and now delivered by the
girl's courage. Then both of them went away and there was nothing
further heard of them.


NOTE

     "The Girl and the Snake" (From Södermanland. From the mss.
     collection of the metallurgist Gustav Erikson, communicated to
     Dr. v. Sydow-Lund) shows distinctive Scandinavian features;
     though it falls short of the richness and depth of the
     celebrated Danish fairy-tale "King Dragon," whose germ idea is
     the same.




IX

FAITHFUL AND UNFAITHFUL


Once upon a time there was a couple of humble cottagers who had no
children until, at last, the man's wife was blessed with a boy, which
made both of them very happy. They named him Faithful and when he was
christened a _huldra_ came to the hut, seated herself beside the
child's cradle, and foretold that he would meet with good fortune.
"What is more," she said, "when he is fifteen years of age, I will
make him a present of a horse with many rare qualities, a horse that
has the gift of speech!" And with that the _huldra_ turned and went
away.

The boy grew up and became strong and powerful. And when he had passed
his fifteenth year, a strange old man came up to their hut one day,
knocked, and said that the horse he was leading had been sent by his
queen, and that henceforward it was to belong to Faithful, as she had
promised. Then the ancient man departed; but the beautiful horse was
admired by all, and Faithful learned to love it more with every
passing day.

At length he grew weary of home. "I must away and try my fortune in
the world," said he, and his parents did not like to object; for there
was not much to wish for at home. So he led his dear horse from the
stable, swung himself into the saddle, and rode hurriedly into the
wood. He rode on and on, and had already covered a good bit of ground,
when he saw two lions engaged in a struggle with a tiger, and they
were well-nigh overcome. "Make haste to take your bow," said the
horse, "shoot the tiger and deliver the two lions!" "Yes, that's what
I will do," said the youth, fitted an arrow to the bow-string, and in
a moment the tiger lay prone on the ground. The two lions drew nearer,
nuzzled their preserver in a friendly and grateful manner, and then
hastened back to their cave.

Faithful now rode along for a long time among the great trees until he
suddenly spied two terrified white doves fleeing from a hawk who was
on the point of catching them. "Make haste to take your bow," said the
horse, "shoot the hawk and save the two doves!" "Yes, that's what I'll
do," said the youth. He fitted an arrow to the bow-string, and in a
moment the hawk lay prone on the ground. But the two doves flew
nearer, fluttered about their deliverer in a tame and grateful manner,
and then hurried back to their nest.

The youth pressed on through the wood and by now was far, far from
home. But his horse did not tire easily, and ran on with him until
they came to a great lake. There he saw a gull rise up from the water,
holding a pike in its claws. "Make haste to take your bow," said the
horse, "shoot the gull and save the pike!" "Yes, that's what I'll do,"
answered the youth, fitted an arrow to his bow-string, and in a moment
the gull was threshing the ground with its wings, mortally wounded.
But the pike who had been saved swam nearer, gave his deliverer a
friendly, grateful glance, and then dove down to join his fellows
beneath the waves.

Faithful rode on again, and before evening came to a great castle. He
at once had himself announced to the king, and begged that the latter
would take him into his service. "What kind of a place do you want?"
asked the king, who was inclined to look with favor on the bold
horseman.

"I should like to be a groom," was Faithful's answer, "but first of
all I must have stable-room and fodder for my horse." "That you shall
have," said the king, and the youth was taken on as a groom, and
served so long and so well, that every one in the castle liked him,
and the king in particular praised him highly.

But among the other servitors was one named Unfaithful who was jealous
of Faithful, and did what he could to harm him; for he thought to
himself:

"Then I would be rid of him, and need not see him continue to rise in
my lord's favor." Now it happened that the king was very sad, for he
had lost his queen, whom a troll had stolen from the castle. It is
true that the queen had not taken pleasure in the king's society, and
that she did not love him. Still the king longed for her greatly, and
often spoke of it to Unfaithful his servant. So one day Unfaithful
said: "My lord need distress himself no longer, for Faithful has been
boasting to me that he could rescue your beautiful queen from the
hands of the troll." "If he has done so," replied the king, "then he
must keep his word."

He straightway ordered Faithful to be brought before him, and
threatened him with death if he did not at once hurry into the hill
and bring back the wife of whom he had been robbed. If he were
successful great honor should be his reward. In vain Faithful denied
what Unfaithful had said of him, the king stuck to his demand, and the
youth withdrew, convinced that he had not long to live. Then he went
to the stable to bid farewell to his beautiful horse, and stood beside
him and wept. "What grieves you so?" asked the horse. Then the youth
told him of all that had happened, and said that this was probably the
last time he would be able to visit him. "If it be no more than that,"
said the horse, "there is a way to help you. Up in the garret of the
castle there is an old fiddle, take it with you and play it when you
come to the place where the queen is kept. And fashion for yourself
armor of steel wire, and set knives into it everywhere, and then, when
you see the troll open his jaws, descend into his maw, and thus slay
him. But you must have no fear, and must trust me to show you the
way." These words filled the youth with fresh courage, he went to the
king and received permission to leave, secretly fashioned his steel
armor, took the old fiddle from the garret of the castle, led his dear
horse out of the stable, and without delay set forth for the troll's
hill.

Before long he saw it, and rode directly to the troll's abode. When he
came near, he saw the troll, who had crept out of his castle, lying
stretched out at the entrance to his cave, fast asleep, and snoring so
powerfully that the whole hill shook. But his mouth was wide open, and
his maw was so tremendous that it was easy for the youth to crawl into
it. He did so, for he was not afraid, and made his way into the
troll's inwards where he was so active that the troll was soon killed.
Then Faithful crept out again, laid aside his armor, and entered the
troll's castle. Within the great golden hall sat the captive queen,
fettered with seven strong chains of gold. Faithful could not break
the strong chains; but he took up his fiddle and played such tender
music on it, that the golden chains were moved, and one after
another, fell from the queen, until she was able to rise and was free
once more. She looked at the courageous youth with joy and gratitude,
and felt very kindly toward him, because he was so handsome and
courteous. And the queen was perfectly willing to return with him to
the king's castle.

The return of the queen gave rise to great joy, and Faithful received
the promised reward from the king. But now the queen treated her
husband with even less consideration than before. She would not
exchange a word with him, she did not laugh, and locked herself up in
her room with her gloomy thoughts. This greatly vexed the king, and
one day he asked the queen why she was so sad: "Well," said she, "I
cannot be happy unless I have the beautiful golden hall which I had in
the hill at the troll's; for a hall like that is to be found nowhere
else."

"It will be no easy matter to obtain it for you," said the king, "and
I cannot promise you that anyone will be able to do it." But when he
complained of his difficulty to his servant Unfaithful, the latter
answered: "The chances of success are not so bad, for Faithful said he
could easily bring the troll's golden hall to the castle." Faithful
was at once sent for, and the king commanded him, as he loved his
life, to make good his word and bring the golden hall from the troll's
hill. It was in vain that Faithful denied Unfaithful's assertions: go
he must, and bring back the golden hall.

Inconsolable, he went to his beautiful horse, wept and wanted to say
farewell to him forever. "What troubles you?" asked the horse. And the
youth replied: "Unfaithful has again been telling lies about me, and
if I do not bring the troll's golden hall to the queen, my life will
be forfeited." "Is it nothing more serious than that?" said the horse.
"See that you obtain a great ship, take your fiddle with you and play
the golden hall out of the hill, then hitch the troll's horses before
it, and you will be able to bring the glistening hall here without
trouble."

Then Faithful felt somewhat better, did as the horse had told him, and
was successful in reaching the great hill. And as he stood there
playing the fiddle, the golden hall heard him, and was drawn to the
sounding music, and it moved slowly, slowly, until it stood outside
the hill. It was built of virgin gold, like a house by itself, and
under it were many wheels. Then the youth took the troll's horses, put
them to the golden hall, and thus brought it aboard his ship. Soon he
had crossed the lake, and brought it along safely so that it reached
the castle without damage, to the great joy of the queen. Yet despite
the fact, she was as weary of everything as she had been before, never
spoke to her husband, the king, and no one ever saw her laugh.

Now the king grew even more vexed than he had been, and again asked
her why she seemed so sad. "Ah, how can I be happy unless I have the
two colts that used to belong to me, when I stayed at the troll's!
Such handsome steeds are to be seen nowhere else!" "It will be
anything but easy to obtain for you what you want," declared the king,
"for they were untamed, and long ago must have run far away into the
wild-wood." Then he left her, sadly, and did not know what to do. But
Unfaithful said: "Let my lord give himself no concern, for Faithful
has declared he could easily secure both of the troll's colts."
Faithful was at once sent for, and the king threatened him with death,
if he did not show his powers in the matter of the colts. But should
he succeed in catching them, then he would be rewarded.

Now Faithful knew quite well that he could not hope to catch the
troll's wild colts, and he once more turned to the stable in order to
bid farewell to the _huldra's_ gift. "Why do you weep over such a
trifle?" said the horse. "Hurry to the wood, play your fiddle, and all
will be well!" Faithful did as he was told, and after a while the two
lions whom he had rescued came leaping toward him, listened to his
playing and asked him whether he was in distress. "Yes, indeed," said
Faithful, and told them what he had to do. They at once ran back into
the wood, one to one side and the other to the other, and returned
quickly, driving the two colts before them. Then Faithful played his
fiddle and the colts followed him, so that he soon reached the king's
castle in safety, and could deliver the steeds to the queen.

The king now expected that his wife would be gay and happy. But she
did not change, never addressed a word to him, and only seemed a
little less sad when she happened to speak to the daring youth.

Then the king asked her to tell him what she lacked, and why she was
so discontented. She answered: "I have secured the colts of the troll,
and I often sit in the glittering hall of gold; but I can open none of
the handsome chests that are filled to the brim with my valuables,
because I have no keys. And if I do not get the keys again, how can I
be happy?" "And where may the keys be?" asked the king. "In the lake
by the troll's hill," said the queen, "for that is where I threw them
when Faithful brought me here." "This is a ticklish affair, this
business of those keys you want!" said the king. "And I can scarcely
promise that you will ever see them again." In spite of this, however,
he was willing to make an attempt, and talked it over with his
servant Unfaithful. "Why, that is easily done," said the latter, "for
Faithful boasted to me that he could get the queen's keys without any
difficulty if he wished." "Then I shall compel him to keep his word,"
said the king. And he at once ordered Faithful, on pain of death, to
get the queen's keys out of the lake by the troll's hill without
delay.

[Illustration: "THE PIKE ROSE TO THE SURFACE WITH THE GOLDEN KEYS IN
HIS MOUTH."]

This time the youth was not so depressed, for he thought to himself:
"My wise horse will be able to help me." And so he was, for he advised
him to go along playing his fiddle, and to wait for what might happen.
After the youth had played for a while, the pike he had saved thrust
his head out of the water, recognized him, and asked whether he could
be of any service to him. "Yes, indeed!" said the youth, and told him
what it was he wanted. The pike at once dived, quickly rose to the
surface of the water with the golden keys in his mouth, and gave them
to his deliverer. The latter hastened back with them, and now the
queen could open the great chests in the golden hall to her heart's
content.

Notwithstanding, the king's wife was as sorrowful as ever, and when
the king complained about it to Unfaithful, the latter said: "No doubt
it is because she loves Faithful. I would therefore advise that my
lord have him beheaded. Then there will be a change." This advice
suited the king well, and he determined to carry it out shortly. But
one day Faithful's horse said to him: "The king is going to have your
head chopped off. So hurry to the wood, play your fiddle, and beg the
two doves to bring you a bottle of the water of life. Then go to the
queen and ask her to set your head on your body and to sprinkle you
with the water when you have been beheaded." Faithful did so. He went
to the wood that very day with his fiddle, and before long the two
doves were fluttering around him, and shortly after brought back the
bottle filled with the water of life. He took it back home with him
and gave it to the queen, so that she might sprinkle him with it after
he had been beheaded. She did so, and at once Faithful rose again, as
full of life as ever; but far better looking. The king was astonished
at what he had seen, and told the queen to cut off his own head and
then sprinkle him with the water. She at once seized the sword, and in
a moment the king's head rolled to the ground. But she sprinkled none
of the water of life upon it, and the king's body was quickly carried
out and buried. Then the queen and Faithful celebrated their wedding
with great pomp; but Unfaithful was banished from the land and went
away in disgrace. The wise horse dwelt contentedly in a wonderful
chamber, and the king and queen kept the magic fiddle, the golden
hall, and the troll's other valuables, and lived in peace and
happiness day after day.


NOTE

     "Faithful and Unfaithful" (From the Hyltén-Cavallius mss.
     collection), is a distant offshoot, and one complicated with
     other motives, of a cycle in which even the Tristan legend is
     represented, the fairy-tale of the golden-haired maiden and the
     water of life and death. (Reinhold Köhler, _Kleinere
     Schriften_, II, p. 328).




X

STARKAD AND BALE


Starkad, the hero of the legends, the bravest warrior in the army of
the North, had fallen into disgrace with the king because of a certain
princess, so he wandered up into Norland, and settled down at Rude in
Tuna, where he was known as the Thrall of the Alders or the Red
Fellow.

In Balbo, nine miles from Rude, dwelt another hero, Bale, a good
friend and companion-at-arms of Starkad.

One morning Starkad climbed the Klefberg in Tuna, and called over to
Bale: "Bale in Balbo, are you awake?"

"Red Fellow!" answered Bale, nine miles away, "the sun and I wake
together! But how goes it with you?"

"None too well. I eat salmon morning, noon and night. Come over with a
bit of meat!"

"I'll come!" Bale called back, and in a few hours time he was down in
Tuna with an elk under each arm.

The following morning Bale in Balbo stood on a hill in Borgsjo and
called: "Red Fellow! Are you awake?"

"The sun and I wake together!" answered Starkad. "And how goes it with
you?"

"Alas, I have nothing to eat but meat! Elk in the morning, elk at noon
and elk at night. Come over and bring a fish-tail along with you!"

"I'm coming!" called out Starkad, and in a short time he had joined
his friend with a barrel of salmon under each arm.

In this fashion the two friends provided themselves with all the game
to be found in the woods and in the water, and spread terror and
destruction throughout the countryside. But one evening, when they
were just returning to the sea from an excursion, a black cloud came
up, and a tempest broke. They hurried along as fast as they could; but
got no further than Vattjom, where a flash of lightning struck Starkad
and flung him to the ground. His friend and companion-at-arms buried
him beneath a stone cairn, about which he set five rocks: two at his
feet, two at his shoulders, and one at his head; and that grave,
measuring twenty ells in length, may still be seen near the river.


NOTE

     In "Starkad and Bale" (Hofberg, p. 181. From Medelpad, after
     ancient traditional sources) humorous feats of gigantic
     strength are ascribed to the most famous hero of Northern
     legend, Starkad, who was brought up by Odin himself.




XI

THE WEREWOLF


Once upon a time there was a king, who reigned over a great kingdom.
He had a queen, but only a single daughter, a girl. In consequence the
little girl was the apple of her parents' eyes; they loved her above
everything else in the world, and their dearest thought was the
pleasure they would take in her when she was older. But the unexpected
often happens; for before the king's daughter began to grow up, the
queen her mother fell ill and died. It is not hard to imagine the
grief that reigned, not alone in the royal castle, but throughout the
land; for the queen had been beloved of all. The king grieved so that
he would not marry again, and his one joy was the little princess.

A long time passed, and with each succeeding day the king's daughter
grew taller and more beautiful, and her father granted her every wish.
Now there were a number of women who had nothing to do but wait on the
princess and carry out her commands. Among them was a woman who had
formerly married and had two daughters. She had an engaging
appearance, a smooth tongue and a winning way of talking, and she was
as soft and pliable as silk; but at heart she was full of machinations
and falseness. Now when the queen died, she at once began to plan how
she might marry the king, so that her daughters might be kept like
royal princesses. With this end in view, she drew the young princess
to her, paid her the most fulsome compliments on everything she said
and did, and was forever bringing the conversation around to how happy
she would be were the king to take another wife. There was much said
on this head, early and late, and before very long the princess came
to believe that the woman knew all there was to know about everything.
So she asked her what sort of a woman the king ought to choose for a
wife. The woman answered as sweet as honey: "It is not my affair to
give advice in this matter; yet he should choose for queen some one
who is kind to the little princess. For one thing I know, and that is,
were I fortunate enough to be chosen, my one thought would be to do
all I could for the little princess, and if she wished to wash her
hands, one of my daughters would have to hold the wash-bowl and the
other hand her the towel." This and much more she told the king's
daughter, and the princess believed it, as children will.

From that day forward the princess gave her father no peace, and
begged him again and again to marry the good court lady. Yet he did
not want to marry her. But the king's daughter gave him no rest; but
urged him again and again, as the false court lady had persuaded her
to do. Finally, one day, when she again brought up the matter, the
king cried: "I can see you will end by having your own way about this,
even though it be entirely against my will. But I will do so only on
one condition." "What is the condition?" asked the princess. "If I
marry again," said the king, "it is only because of your ceaseless
pleading. Therefore you must promise that, if in the future you are
not satisfied with your step-mother or your step-sisters, not a single
lament or complaint on your part reaches my ears." This she promised
the king, and it was agreed that he should marry the court lady and
make her queen of the whole country.

As time passed on, the king's daughter had grown to be the most
beautiful maiden to be found far and wide; the queen's daughters, on
the other hand, were homely, evil of disposition, and no one knew any
good of them. Hence it was not surprising that many youths came from
East and West to sue for the princess's hand; but that none of them
took any interest in the queen's daughters. This made the step-mother
very angry; but she concealed her rage, and was as sweet and friendly
as ever. Among the wooers was a king's son from another country. He
was young and brave, and since he loved the princess dearly, she
accepted his proposal and they plighted their troth. The queen
observed this with an angry eye, for it would have pleased her had the
prince chosen one of her own daughters. She therefor made up her mind
that the young pair should never be happy together, and from that time
on thought only of how she might part them from each other.

An opportunity soon offered itself. News came that the enemy had
entered the land, and the king was compelled to go to war. Now the
princess began to find out the kind of step-mother she had. For no
sooner had the king departed than the queen showed her true nature,
and was just as harsh and unkind as she formerly had pretended to be
friendly and obliging. Not a day went by without her scolding and
threatening the princess; and the queen's daughters were every bit as
malicious as their mother. But the king's son, the lover of the
princess, found himself in even worse position. He had gone hunting
one day, had lost his way, and could not find his people. Then the
queen used her black arts and turned him into a werewolf, to wander
through the forest for the remainder of his life in that shape. When
evening came and there was no sign of the prince, his people returned
home, and one can imagine what sorrow they caused when the princess
learned how the hunt had ended. She grieved, wept day and night, and
was not to be consoled. But the queen laughed at her grief, and her
heart was filled with joy to think that all had turned out exactly as
she wished.

Now it chanced one day, as the king's daughter was sitting alone in
her room, that she thought she would go herself into the forest where
the prince had disappeared. She went to her step-mother and begged
permission to go out into the forest, in order to forget her
surpassing grief. The queen did not want to grant her request, for she
always preferred saying no to yes. But the princess begged her so
winningly that at last she was unable to say no, and she ordered one
of her daughters to go along with her and watch her. That caused a
great deal of discussion, for neither of the step-daughters wanted to
go with her; each made all sorts of excuses, and asked what pleasures
were there in going with the king's daughter, who did nothing but cry.
But the queen had the last word in the end, and ordered that one of
her daughters must accompany the princess, even though it be against
her will. So the girls wandered out of the castle into the forest. The
king's daughter walked among the trees, and listened to the song of
the birds, and thought of her lover, for whom she longed, and who was
now no longer there. And the queen's daughter followed her, vexed, in
her malice, with the king's daughter and her sorrow.

After they had walked a while, they came to a little hut, lying deep
in the dark forest. By then the king's daughter was very thirsty, and
wanted to go into the little hut with her step-sister, in order to get
a drink of water. But the queen's daughter was much annoyed and said:
"Is it not enough for me to be running around here in the wilderness
with you? Now you even want me, who am a princess, to enter that
wretched little hut. No, I will not step a foot over the threshold! If
you want to go in, why go in alone!" The king's daughter lost no time;
but did as her step-sister advised, and stepped into the little hut.
When she entered she saw an old woman sitting there on a bench, so
enfeebled by age that her head shook. The princess spoke to her in her
usual friendly way: "Good evening, motherkin. May I ask you for a
drink of water?" "You are heartily welcome to it," said the old woman.
"Who may you be, that step beneath my lowly roof and greet me in so
winning a way?" The king's daughter told her who she was, and that she
had gone out to relieve her heart, in order to forget her great grief.
"And what may your great grief be?" asked the old woman. "No doubt it
is my fate to grieve," said the princess, "and I can never be happy
again. I have lost my only love, and God alone knows whether I shall
ever see him again." And she also told her why it was, and the tears
ran down her cheeks in streams, so that any one would have felt sorry
for her. When she had ended the old woman said: "You did well in
confiding your sorrow to me. I have lived long and may be able to give
you a bit of good advice. When you leave here you will see a lily
growing from the ground. This lily is not like other lilies, however,
but has many strange virtues. Run quickly over to it, and pick it. If
you can do that then you need not worry, for then one will appear who
will tell you what to do." Then they parted and the king's daughter
thanked her and went her way; while the old woman sat on the bench and
wagged her head. But the queen's daughter had been standing without
the hut the entire time, vexing herself, and grumbling because the
king's daughter had taken so long.

So when the latter stepped out, she had to listen to all sorts of
abuse from her step-sister, as was to be expected. Yet she paid no
attention to her, and thought only of how she might find the flower of
which the old woman had spoken. They went through the forest, and
suddenly she saw a beautiful white lily growing in their very path.
She was much pleased and ran up at once to pick it; but that very
moment it disappeared and reappeared somewhat further away.

The king's daughter was now filled with eagerness, no longer listened
to her step-sister's calls, and kept right on running; yet each time
when she stooped to pick the lily, it suddenly disappeared and
reappeared somewhat further away. Thus it went for some time, and the
princess was drawn further and further into the deep forest. But the
lily continued to stand, and disappear and move further away, and each
time the flower seemed larger and more beautiful than before. At
length the princess came to a high hill, and as she looked toward its
summit, there stood the lily high on the naked rock, glittering as
white and radiant as the brightest star. The king's daughter now began
to climb the hill, and in her eagerness she paid no attention to
stones nor steepness. And when at last she reached the summit of the
hill, lo and behold! the lily no longer evaded her grasp; but remained
where it was, and the princess stooped and picked it and hid it in her
bosom, and so heartfelt was her happiness that she forgot her
step-sisters and everything else in the world.

For a long time she did not tire of looking at the beautiful flower.
Then she suddenly began to wonder what her step-mother would say when
she came home after having remained out so long. And she looked
around, in order to find the way back to the castle. But as she looked
around, behold, the sun had set and no more than a little strip of
daylight rested on the summit of the hill. Below her lay the forest,
so dark and shadowed that she had no faith in her ability to find the
homeward path. And now she grew very sad, for she could think of
nothing better to do than to spend the night on the hill-top. She
seated herself on the rock, put her hand to her cheek, cried, and
thought of her unkind step-mother and step-sisters, and of all the
harsh words she would have to endure when she returned. And she
thought of her father, the king, who was away at war, and of the love
of her heart, whom she would never see again; and she grieved so
bitterly that she did not even know she wept. Night came and darkness,
and the stars rose, and still the princess sat in the same spot and
wept. And while she sat there, lost in her thoughts, she heard a voice
say: "Good evening, lovely maiden! Why do you sit here so sad and
lonely?" She stood up hastily, and felt much embarrassed, which was
not surprising. When she looked around there was nothing to be seen
but a tiny old man, who nodded to her and seemed to be very humble.
She answered: "Yes, it is no doubt my fate to grieve, and never be
happy again. I have lost my dearest love, and now I have lost my way
in the forest, and am afraid of being devoured by wild beasts." "As to
that," said the old man, "you need have no fear. If you will do
exactly as I say, I will help you." This made the princess happy;
for she felt that all the rest of the world had abandoned her. Then
the old man drew out flint and steel and said: "Lovely maiden, you
must first build a fire." She did as he told her, gathered moss, brush
and dry sticks, struck sparks and lit such a fire on the hill-top that
the flame blazed up to the skies. That done the old man said: "Go on a
bit and you will find a kettle of tar, and bring the kettle to me."
This the king's daughter did. The old man continued: "Now put the
kettle on the fire." And the princess did that as well. When the tar
began to boil, the old man said: "Now throw your white lily into the
kettle." The princess thought this a harsh command, and earnestly
begged to be allowed to keep the lily. But the old man said: "Did you
not promise to obey my every command? Do as I tell you or you will
regret it." The king's daughter turned away her eyes, and threw the
lily into the boiling tar; but it was altogether against her will, so
fond had she grown of the beautiful flower.

[Illustration: "SO HEARTFELT WAS HER HAPPINESS THAT SHE FORGOT
EVERYTHING ELSE IN THE WORLD."]

The moment she did so a hollow roar, like that of some wild beast,
sounded from the forest. It came nearer, and turned into such a
terrible howling that all the surrounding hills reëchoed it. Finally
there was a cracking and breaking among the trees, the bushes were
thrust aside, and the princess saw a great grey wolf come running out
of the forest and straight up the hill. She was much frightened and
would gladly have run away, had she been able. But the old man said:
"Make haste, run to the edge of the hill and the moment the wolf comes
along, upset the kettle on him!" The princess was terrified, and
hardly knew what she was about; yet she did as the old man said, took
the kettle, ran to the edge of the hill, and poured its contents over
the wolf just as he was about to run up. And then a strange thing
happened: no sooner had she done so, than the wolf was transformed,
cast off his thick grey pelt, and in place of the horrible wild beast,
there stood a handsome young man, looking up to the hill. And when the
king's daughter collected herself and looked at him, she saw that it
was really and truly her lover, who had been turned into a werewolf.

It is easy to imagine how the princess felt. She opened her arms, and
could neither ask questions nor reply to them, so moved and delighted
was she. But the prince ran hastily up the hill, embraced her
tenderly, and thanked her for delivering him. Nor did he forget the
little old man, but thanked him with many civil expressions for his
powerful aid. Then they sat down together on the hill-top, and had a
pleasant talk. The prince told how he had been turned into a wolf, and
of all he had suffered while running about in the forest; and the
princess told of her grief, and the many tears she had shed while he
had been gone. So they sat the whole night through, and never noticed
it until the stars grew pale and it was light enough to see. When the
sun rose, they saw that a broad path led from the hill-top straight to
the royal castle; for they had a view of the whole surrounding country
from the hill-top. Then the old man said: "Lovely maiden, turn around!
Do you see anything out yonder?" "Yes," said the princess, "I see a
horseman on a foaming horse, riding as fast as he can." Then the old
man said: "He is a messenger sent on ahead by the king your father.
And your father with all his army is following him." That pleased the
princess above all things, and she wanted to descend the hill at once
to meet her father. But the old man detained her and said: "Wait a
while, it is too early yet. Let us wait and see how everything turns
out."

Time passed and the sun was shining brightly, and its rays fell
straight on the royal castle down below. Then the old man said:
"Lovely maiden, turn around! Do you see anything down below?" "Yes,"
replied the princess, "I see a number of people coming out of my
father's castle, and some are going along the road, and others into
the forest." The old man said: "Those are your step-mother's servants.
She has sent some to meet the king and welcome him; but she has sent
others to the forest to look for you." At these words the princess
grew uneasy, and wished to go down to the queen's servants. But the
old man withheld her and said: "Wait a while, and let us first see how
everything turns out."

More time passed, and the king's daughter was still looking down the
road from which the king would appear, when the old man said: "Lovely
maiden, turn around! Do you see anything down below?" "Yes," answered
the princess, "there is a great commotion in my father's castle, and
they are hanging it with black." The old man said: "That is your
step-mother and her people. They will assure your father that you are
dead." Then the king's daughter felt bitter anguish, and she implored
from the depths of her heart: "Let me go, let me go, so that I may
spare my father this anguish!" But the old man detained her and said:
"No, wait, it is still too early. Let us first see how everything
turns out."

Again time passed, the sun lay high above the fields, and the warm air
blew over meadow and forest. The royal maid and youth still sat on the
hill-top with the old man, where we had left them. Then they saw a
little cloud rise against the horizon, far away in the distance, and
the little cloud grew larger and larger, and came nearer and nearer
along the road, and as it moved one could see it was agleam with
weapons, and nodding helmets, and waving flags, one could hear the
rattle of swords, and the neighing of horses, and finally recognize
the banner of the king. It is not hard to imagine how pleased the
king's daughter was, and how she insisted on going down and greeting
her father. But the old man held her back and said: "Lovely maiden,
turn around! Do you see anything happening at the castle?" "Yes,"
answered the princess, "I can see my step-mother and step-sisters
coming out, dressed in mourning, holding white kerchiefs to their
faces, and weeping bitterly." The old man answered: "Now they are
pretending to weep because of your death. Wait just a little while
longer. We have not yet seen how everything will turn out."

After a time the old man said again: "Lovely maiden, turn around! Do
you see anything down below?" "Yes," said the princess, "I see people
bringing a black coffin--now my father is having it opened. Look, the
queen and her daughters are down on their knees, and my father is
threatening them with his sword!" Then the old man said: "Your father
wished to see your body, and so your evil step-mother had to confess
the truth." When the princess heard that she said earnestly: "Let me
go, let me go, so that I may comfort my father in his great sorrow!"
But the old man held her back and said: "Take my advice and stay here
a little while longer. We have not yet seen how everything will turn
out."

Again time went by, and the king's daughter and the prince and the old
man were still sitting on the hill-top. Then the old man said: "Lovely
maiden, turn around! Do you see anything down below?" "Yes," answered
the princess, "I see my father and my step-sisters and my step-mother
with all their following moving this way." The old man said: "Now they
have started out to look for you. Go down and bring up the wolf's pelt
in the gorge." The king's daughter did as he told her. The old man
continued: "Now stand at the edge of the hill." And the princess did
that, too. Now one could see the queen and her daughters coming along
the way, and stopping just below the hill. Then the old man said: "Now
throw down the wolf's pelt!" The princess obeyed him, and threw down
the wolf's pelt according to his command. It fell directly on the evil
queen and her daughters. And then a most wonderful thing happened: no
sooner had the pelt touched the three evil women than they immediately
changed shape, and turning into three horrible werewolves, they ran
away as fast as they could into the forest, howling dreadfully.

No more had this happened than the king himself arrived at the foot
of the hill with his whole retinue. When he looked up and recognized
the princess, he could not at first believe his eyes; but stood
motionless, thinking her a vision. Then the old man cried: "Lovely
maiden, now hasten, run down and make your father happy!" There was no
need to tell the princess twice. She took her lover by the hand and
they ran down the hill. When they came to the king, the princess ran
on ahead, fell on her father's neck, and wept with joy. And the young
prince wept as well, and the king himself wept; and their meeting was
a pleasant sight for every one. There was great joy and many embraces,
and the princess told of her evil step-mother and step-sisters and of
her lover, and all that she had suffered, and of the old man who had
helped them in such a wonderful way. But when the king turned around
to thank the old man he had completely vanished, and from that day on
no one could say who he had been or what had become of him.

The king and his whole retinue now returned to the castle, where the
king had a splendid banquet prepared, to which he invited all the able
and distinguished people throughout the kingdom, and bestowed his
daughter on the young prince. And the wedding was celebrated with
gladness and music and amusements of every kind for many days. I was
there, too, and when I rode through the forest I met a wolf with two
young wolves, and they showed me their teeth and seemed very angry.
And I was told they were none other than the evil step-mother and her
two daughters.


NOTE

     In "The Werewolf," the basic idea is the deliverance from
     animal form through a maiden's self-sacrificing love
     (Hyltén-Cavallius and Stephens, p. 312. From Upland), and the
     Teutonic belief in human beings who could change themselves
     into wolves is clearly marked.




XII

FIRST BORN, FIRST WED


Once upon a time there was a king who had a three-year old son, and
was obliged to go to war against another king. Then, when his ships
sailed home again after he had gained a splendid victory, a storm
broke out and his whole fleet was near sinking. But the king vowed he
would sacrifice to the sea-queen the first male creature that came to
meet him when he reached land and entered his capital. Thereby the
whole fleet reached the harbor in safety. But the five-year old
prince, who had not seen his father for the past two years, and who
was delighted with the thunder of the cannon as the ships came in,
secretly slipped away from his attendants, and ran to the landing; and
when the king came ashore he was the first to cast himself into his
arms, weeping with joy. The king was frightened when he thought of the
sea-queen; but he thought that, after all, the prince was only a
child, and at any rate he could sacrifice the next person to step up
to him after the prince. But from that time on no one could make a
successful sea-trip, and the people began to murmur because the king
had not kept the promise he had made the sea-queen. But the king and
queen never allowed the prince out without a great escort, and he was
never permitted to enter a ship, for all his desire to do so. After a
few years they gradually forgot the sea-queen, and when the prince was
ten years old, a little brother came to join him. Not long after the
older of the princes was out walking with his tutor and several other
gentlemen. And when they reached the end of the royal gardens by the
sea-shore--it was a summer's day, unusually clear--they were suddenly
enveloped by a thick cloud, which disappeared as swiftly as it had
come. And when it vanished, the prince was no longer there; nor did he
return, to the great sorrow of the king, the queen and the whole
country. In the meantime the young prince who was now the sole heir to
the crown and kingdom grew up; and when he was sixteen, they began to
think of finding a wife for him. For the old king and queen wished to
see him marry the daughter of some powerful monarch to whom they were
allied, before they died. With this in view, letters were written and
embassies sent out to the most distant countries.

While these negotiations were being conducted, it began to be said
that the sea-shore was haunted; various people had heard cries, and
several who had walked by the sea-shore late in the evening had fallen
ill. At length no one ventured to go there after eleven at night,
because a voice kept crying from out at sea: "First born, first wed!"
And when some one did venture nearer he did so at the risk of his
life. At last these complaints came to the king's ear; he called
together his council, and it was decided to question a wise woman, who
had already foretold many mysterious happenings, which had all taken
place exactly as she had said they would. When the wise woman was
brought before the king she said it was the prince who had been taken
into the sea who was calling, and that they would have to find him a
bride, young, beautiful, and belonging to one of the noblest families
of the land, and she must be no less than fifteen and no more than
seventeen years old. That seemed a serious difficulty; for no one
wished to give their daughter to a sea-king.

Yet, when there was no end to the cries and the commotion, the wise
woman said, that first it might be well to build a little house by the
sea, perhaps then the turmoil might die away. At any rate, she said,
no phantoms would haunt the place while the building was in progress.
Hence no more than four workmen need be employed, and they might first
prepare a site, then lay the stone foundation, and finally erect the
small house, comprising no more than two pleasant, handsome rooms, one
behind the other, and a good floor. The house was carefully erected,
and the royal architect himself had to superintend the work, so that
everything might be done as well as possible. And while the building
was going on, there were no mysterious noises, and every one could
travel peacefully along the sea-shore. For that reason the four
workmen did not hurry with their work; yet not one of them could stay
away for a day, because when they did the tumult along the shore would
begin again, and one could hear the cries: "First born, first wed!"
When the little house was finally completed, the best carpenters came
and worked in it, then painters and other craftsmen, and at last it
was furnished, because when the work stopped for no more than a single
day the cries were heard again by night. The rooms were fitted out as
sumptuously as possible, and a great mirror was hung in the
drawing-room. According to the instructions of the wise woman, it was
hung in such wise that from the bed in the bed-room, even though one's
face were turned to the wall, one could still see who stepped over the
threshold into the drawing-room; for the door between each room was
always to stand open.

When all was finished, and the little house had been arranged with
regal splendor, the cries of "First born, first wed!" again began to
sound from the shore. And it was found necessary, though all were
unwilling, to follow the wise woman's counsel, and choose three of
the loveliest maidens between the ages of fifteen and seventeen,
belonging to the first families of the land. They were to be taken to
the castle, said the wise woman, and to be treated like ladies of the
blood royal, and one after another they were to be sent to the little
house by the sea-shore; for should one of them find favor in the eyes
of the sea-prince, then the commotion and turmoil would surely cease.
In the meantime the negotiations for the marriage of the younger
prince were continued, and the bride selected for him was soon
expected to arrive. So the girls were also chosen for the sea-prince.
The three chosen, as well as their parents, were quite inconsolable
over their fate; even the fact that they were to be treated like
princesses did not console them; yet had they not yielded it would
have been all the worse for them and for the whole land. The first
girl destined to sleep in the sea-palace was the oldest, and when she
sought out the wise woman, and asked her advice, the latter said she
should lie down in the handsome bed; but should turn her face to the
wall, and under no circumstances turn around curiously, and try and
see what was going on. She had only the right to behold what she saw
reflected in the mirror in the drawing-room as she lay with her face
to the wall. At ten o'clock that night the royal sea-bride was led
with great pomp to the little house.

Her relatives and the court said farewell to her with many tears, left
her before eleven, locked the door on the outside, and took the keys
with them to the castle. The wise woman was also there, consoled the
people, and assured them that if the maiden only forbore to speak, and
did not turn around, she would come out in the morning fresh and
blooming. The poor girl prayed and wept until she grew sleepy; but
toward twelve o'clock the outer door suddenly opened, and then the
door of the drawing-room. She was startled and filled with fear when,
her face turned toward the wall, she saw in the great mirror, how a
tall, well-built youth entered, from whose garments the water ran in
streams to the floor. He shook himself as though freezing, and said
"Uh hu!" Then he went to the window, and there laid down an unusually
large and handsome apple, and hung a bottle in the casement. Next he
stepped to the bed, bent over the sleeping girl and looked at her,
strode up and down a few times, shaking the water from his clothes and
saying "Uh hu!" Then he went back to the bed, undressed hurriedly, lay
down and fell asleep. The poor girl, had not been sleeping; but had
only closed her eyes when the prince bent over her. Now she was glad
to think he was fast asleep, and forgot the wise woman's warning not
to turn around. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she wanted
to find out if this were a real human being. She turned around
softly, lest she wake him; but just as she sat up quietly in bed, in
order to take a good look at her neighbor, he swiftly seized her right
hand, hewed it off, and flung it under the bed. Then he at once lay
down and fell asleep again. As soon as it was day, he rose, dressed
without casting even a glance at the bed, took the bottle and the
apple from the window, went hastily out and locked the door after him.
One can imagine how the poor girl suffered in the meantime, and when
her friends and relatives came to fetch her they found her weeping and
robbed of her hand. She was brought to the castle and the wise woman
sent for, and overwhelmed with bitter reproaches. But she said that if
the maiden had not turned around, and had overcome her curiosity, she
would not have lost her hand. They were to treat her as though she
were really and truly a princess; but that it would be as much as her
life were worth to allow her to return to the neighborhood of the
little house.

The two girls were all the more discouraged by this mishap, and
thought themselves condemned to death, though the wise woman consoled
them as well as she knew how. The second promised her faithfully not
to turn around; yet it happened with her as it had with the first. The
prince came in at twelve o'clock dripping, shook himself so that the
water flew about, said "Uh hu!" went to the window, laid down the
beautiful apple, hung up the bottle, came into the bed-room, bent over
the bed, strode up and down a few times, said "Uh hu!" hastily
undressed, and at once fell asleep. Her curiosity gained the upper
hand, and when she made sure that he was sleeping soundly, she
carefully turned around in order to look at him. But he seized her
right hand, hewed it off and cast it under the bed, and then laid down
again and slept on. At dawn he rose, dressed without casting a glance
at the bed, took the apple and the bottle, went out and locked the
door after him. When her friends and relatives came to fetch the girl
in the morning, they found her weeping and without a right hand. She
was taken to the castle, where she found herself just as little
welcome as her predecessor, and the wise woman insisted that the girl
must have turned around, though at first she denied it absolutely.

Then the youngest, sweetest and loveliest of the three maidens had to
go to the sea-castle amid the mourning of the entire court. The wise
woman accompanied her, and implored her not to turn around; since
there was no other means of protection against the spell.

The maiden promised to heed her warning, and said that she would pray
God to help her if she were plagued with curiosity. All happened as
before: the prince came on the stroke of twelve, dripping wet, said
"Uh hu!" shook himself, laid the apple on the window, hung up the
bottle, went into the bed-room, bent over the bed, strode up and down
for a few times, said "Uh hu!" undressed, and at once fell asleep. The
poor girl was half-dead with fear and terror, and prayed and struggled
against her curiosity till at length she fell asleep, and did not
awake until the prince rose and dressed. He stepped up to the bed,
bent over it for a moment, went out, turned at the door and took the
bottle and the apple, and then locked the door after him. In the
morning the entire court, the girl's parents and the wise woman came
to fetch her. She came to meet them weeping with joy, and was
conducted to the castle in triumph and with joy indescribable. The
king and queen embraced her, and she was paid the same honors destined
for the princess who was to arrive in the course of the next few days
to marry the heir to the throne. Now the maiden had to sleep every
night in the little house by the strand, and every evening the prince
came in with his apple and his bottle, and every morning went away at
dawn. But it seemed to her that each succeeding evening and morning he
looked at her a little longer; though she, always silent, timid, and
turned toward the wall, did not dare see more than her mirror showed
her of his coming and going. But the two other girls, who had lost
their hands, and who now no longer lived in the castle, were jealous
of the honor shown the youngest, and threatened to have her done away
with if she did not restore their hands. The maiden went weeping to
the wise woman; and the latter said that when the prince had lain down
as usual she should say--keeping her face turned toward the wall:

    "The maidens twain will see me slain,
    Or else have back their hands again!"

But she was to offer no further information nor say another word. With
a beating heart the poor girl waited until the prince came, and when
he had bent over the bed longer than usual, sighed, then hastily
undressed and lain down, the maiden said, quivering and trembling:

    "The maidens twain will see me slain,
    Or else have back their hands again!"

The prince at once replied: "Take the hands--they are lying under the
bed--and the bottle hanging in the window, and pour some of the
contents of the bottle on their arms and hands, join them together,
bind them up, take away the bandages in three days' time and the hands
will have been healed!" The maiden made no reply and fell asleep. In
the morning the prince rose as usual, stepped over to the bed several
times and looked at her from its foot; but she did not dare look up,
and closed her eyes. He sighed, took his apple; but left the bottle,
and went. When the maiden rose she did as he had told her, and in
three days' time removed the bandages, and the girls' hands were well
and whole.

Now the foreign princess arrived and the wedding was to be celebrated
as soon as possible. Yet she was not fitted out with any more
magnificence than the bride of the sea-prince, and both were equally
honored by the king and court. This annoyed the two other girls, and
they again threatened to have the youngest done away with if she did
not let them taste the apple which the prince always brought with him.
Again the maiden sought the advice of the wise woman, in whom she had
confidence. And that night, when the prince had lain down, she said:

    "The maidens twain will see me slain,
    Or else your apple they would gain!"

Then the prince said: "Take the apple lying in the window, and when
you go out, lay it on the ground and follow wherever it may roll. And
when it stops, pick as many apples as you wish, and return the same
way you came." The maiden made no reply, and fell asleep. On the
following morning it seemed harder than ever for the prince to resolve
to go away. He appeared excited and restless, sighed often, bent over
the maiden several times, went into the living room, then turned
around and looked at her once more. Finally, when the sun rose, he
hurried out and locked the door after him. When the maiden rose, she
could not help weeping, for she had really begun to love the prince.

Then she took the apple, and when she was outside the door, laid it on
the ground, and it rolled and rolled, and she followed it, a long,
long way, to a region unknown to her. There she came to a high garden
wall, over which hung the branches of trees, loaded with beautiful
fruit. Finally she reached a great portal, adorned with gold and
splendid ornaments, which opened of its own accord as the apple rolled
up to it. And the apple rolled through the portal and the maiden
followed it into the garden, which was the most beautiful she ever had
seen. The apple rolled over to a low-growing tree weighed with the
most magnificent apples, and there it stopped. The maiden picked all
that her silken apron would hold, and turned to see from which
direction she had come, and where the portal stood through which she
would have to pass on her way back. But the garden was so lovely that
she felt like enjoying its charms a while longer, and without
thinking of the prince's words, she touched the apple with her foot,
and it began to roll again. Suddenly the portal closed with a great
crash. Then the maiden was much frightened, and regretted having done
what had been forbidden her; yet now she could not get out, and was
compelled to follow the apple once more. It rolled far into the
beautiful garden and stopped at a little fire-place, where stood two
kettles of water, one small, the other large. There was a great fire
burning under the large kettle; but only a weak fire beneath the
smaller one. Now when the apple stopped there the maiden did not know
what to do. Then it occurred to her to scrape away the fire beneath
the large kettle and thrust it under the little one; and soon the
kettle over the small fire began to boil and the kettle over the large
one simmered down. But she could not stay there. And since she had
already disobeyed the order given her, she expected to die, nothing
less, and was quite resigned to do so, because she had lost all hope
of winning the prince.

So she gave the apple another push, and it rolled into a meadow in the
middle of the garden, and there lay two little children, asleep, with
the hot sun beating straight down upon them. The maiden felt sorry for
the children, and she took her apron and laid it over them to protect
them from the sun, and only kept the apples she could put in her
little basket. But she could not stay here either, so again she
touched the apple, and it rolled on and before she knew it the girl
found herself by the sea-shore. There, under a shady tree lay the
prince asleep; while beside him sat the sea-queen. Both rose when the
maiden drew near, and the prince looked at her with alarm and
tenderness in his flashing eyes. Then he leaped into the sea, and the
white foam closed over him. But the sea-queen was enraged and seized
the girl, who thought that her last moment had struck, and begged for
a merciful death. The sea-queen looked at her, and asked her who had
given her permission to pass beyond the apple-tree. The maiden
confessed her disobedience, and said that she had done so without
meaning any harm, whereupon the sea-queen said she would see how she
had conducted herself and punish her accordingly. Thereupon the
sea-queen gave the apple a push, and it rolled back through the portal
to the apple-tree. The sea-queen saw that the apple-tree was
uninjured, again pushed the apple and it rolled on to the little
fire-place. But when the sea-queen saw the small kettle boiling
furiously, while the large one was growing cold, she became very
angry, seized the girl's arm savagely and rising to her full height,
asked: "What have you dared do here? How dared you take the fire from
under my kettle and put it under your own?" The maiden did not know
that she had done anything wrong, and said that she did not know why.
Then the sea-queen replied: "The large kettle signified the love
between the prince and myself; the small one the love between the
prince and you. Since you have taken the fire from under my kettle and
laid it under your own, the prince is now violently in love with you,
while his love for me is well-nigh extinguished. Look," she cried,
angrily, "now my kettle has stopped boiling altogether, and yours is
boiling over! But I will see what other harm you have done and punish
you accordingly." And the sea-queen again pushed the apple with her
foot, and it rolled to the sleeping children, who had been covered
with the apron. Then the sea-queen said: "Did you do that?" "Yes,"
replied the maiden, weeping, "but I meant no harm. I covered the
little ones with my apron so that the sun might not burn down on them
so fiercely, and I left with them the apples I could not put in my
basket." The sea-queen said: "This deed and your truthfulness are your
salvation. I see that you have a kind heart. These children belong to
me and to the prince; but since he now loves you more than he does me,
I will resign him to you. Go back to the castle and there say what I
tell you: that your wedding with my prince is to be celebrated at the
same time as that of his younger brother. And all your jewels, your
ornaments, your wedding-dress and your bridal chair, are to be exactly
like those of the other princess. From the moment on that the priest
blesses the prince and yourself I have no further power over him. But
since I have seen to it that he has all the qualities which adorn a
ruler, I demand that he be made the heir to his father's kingdom; for
he is the oldest son. The younger prince may rule over the kingdom
which his bride brings him. All this you must tell them, for only
under these conditions will I release the prince. And when you are
arrayed in your bridal finery, come to me here, without anyone's
knowledge, so that I may see how they have adorned you. Here is the
apple which will show you the way without any one being able to tell
where you go." With that the sea-queen parted from her, and gave the
apple a push. It rolled out of the garden and to the castle, where the
maiden, with mingled joy and terror, delivered the sea-queen's message
to the king, and told him what she demanded for the prince. The king
gladly promised all that was desired, and great preparations were at
once made for the double wedding. Two bridal chairs were set up side
by side, two wedding gowns, and two sets of jewels exactly similar
were made ready. When the maiden had been dressed in her bridal
finery she pretended to have forgotten something, which she had to
fetch from a lower floor, went downstairs with her apple, and laid it
on the ground. It at once rolled to the spot by the sea-shore where
she had found the sea-queen and the prince, and where the sea-queen
was now awaiting her. "It is well that you have come," said the
sea-queen, "for the slightest disobedience would have meant misfortune
for you! But how do you look? Are you dressed just as the princess is?
And has the princess no better clothes or jewels?" The maiden answered
timidly, that they were dressed exactly alike. Then the sea-queen tore
her gown from her body, unclasped the jewels from her hair and
flinging them on the ground cried: "Is that the way the bride of my
prince should look! Since I have given him to you I will give you my
bridal outfit as well." And with that she raised up a sod beneath the
great tree, and a shrine adorned with gold and precious stones
appeared, from which she drew out her bridal outfit, which fitted the
maiden as though made for her. And it was so costly and so covered
with gems that the maiden was almost blinded by its radiance. The
crown, too, glowed with light, and was set with the most wonderful
emeralds, and all was magnificent beyond what any princess had ever
worn. "Now," said the sea-queen, when she had finished adorning the
maiden, "now go back to the castle, and show them how I was dressed
when I wedded the prince. All this I give as a free gift to you and
your descendants; but you must always conduct yourself so that the
prince will be content with you, and you must make his happiness your
first thought all your life long."

[Illustration: "A SHRINE ADORNED WITH GOLD AND PRECIOUS STONES
APPEARED."]

This the maiden promised, with honest tears, and the sea-queen bade
her go. When she was again in the castle, all were astonished at the
beauty and costliness of her dress and jewels, in comparison to which
those of the other princess were as nothing. The treasures of the
whole kingdom would not have sufficed to pay for such a bridal outfit.
And none any longer dared envy the lovely maiden, for never had a
princess brought a richer bridal dower into the country. Now all went
in solemn procession to the church, and the priests stood before the
bridal chairs with their books open, and waited for the prince who,
according to the sea-queen's word, would not come until the blessing
was to be spoken. They waited impatiently, and the king finally told
one of the greatest nobles to seat himself in the bridal chair in the
prince's place, which he did. But the very moment the priest began to
pray, the two wings of the church portal quickly flew open, and a
tall, strong, handsome man with flashing eyes, royally clad, came in,
stepped up to the bridal chair, thrust his proxy out so hastily that
he nearly fell, and cried: "This is my place! Now, priest, speak the
blessing!" While the blessing was spoken the prince became quiet
again, and then greeted his parents and the whole court with joy, and
before all embraced his wife, who now for the first time ventured to
take a good look at him. Thenceforward the prince was like any other
human being, and in the end he inherited his father's kingdom, and
became a great and world-renowned ruler, beloved by his subjects, and
adored by his wife. They lived long and happily, and their descendants
are still the rulers of the land over which he reigned.


NOTE

     "First Born, First Wed" is a purely Swedish, and decidedly
     characteristic treatment of a similar motive of redemption.
     (From the mss. collection of Hyltén-Cavallius and Stephens,
     communicated by Dr. v. Sydow-Lund).




XIII

THE LAME DOG


Once upon a time there lived a king, like many others. He had three
daughters, who were young and beautiful to such a degree that it would
have been difficult to have found handsomer maidens. Yet there was a
great difference among them; for the two older sisters were haughty in
their thoughts and manners; while the youngest was sweet and friendly,
and everyone liked her. Besides, she was fair as the day and delicate
as the snow, and far more beautiful than either of her sisters.

One day the king's daughters were sitting together in their room, and
their talk happened to turn on their husbands-to-be. The oldest said:
"If I ever marry, my husband must have golden hair and a golden
beard!" And the second exclaimed: "And mine must have silver hair and
a silver beard!" But the youngest princess held her tongue and said
nothing. Then her sisters asked her whether she did not want to wish
for a husband. "No," she answered, "but if fate should give me a
husband, I will be content to take him as he is, and were he no more
than a lame dog." Then the two other princesses laughed and joked
about it, and told her the day might easily come when she would change
her mind.

But many speak truth and do not know it! Thus it chanced with the
king's daughters; since before the year had come to an end, each had
the suitor for whom she had wished. A man with golden hair and golden
beard sued for the oldest princess and won her consent to his suit.
And a man with silver hair and a silver beard sued for the second and
she became his bride; but the youngest princess had no other suitor
than a lame dog. Then she recalled her talk with her sisters in their
room, and thought to herself: "May God aid me in the marriage into
which I must enter!" Yet she would not break the word she had once
passed; but followed her sisters' example and accepted the dog. The
wedding lasted a number of days and was celebrated with great pomp and
splendor. But while the guests danced and amused themselves, the
youngest princess sat apart and wept, and when the others were
laughing, her tears flowed till it made one sad to see them.

After the wedding the newly married pairs were each to drive off to
their castle. And the two older princesses each drove off in a
splendidly decorated coach, with a large retinue, and all sorts of
honors. But the youngest had to go afoot, since her husband, the dog,
had neither coach nor driver. When they had wandered long and far,
they came to a great forest, so great that it seemed endless; but the
dog limped along in advance, and the king's daughter followed after,
weeping. And as they went along she suddenly saw a magnificent castle
lying before them, and round about it were beautiful meadows and green
woods, all of them most enjoyable to see. The princess stopped and
asked to whom the great mansion might belong. "That," said the dog,
"is our home. We will live here, and you shall rule it as you see
fit." Then the maiden laughed amid her tears, and could not overcome
her surprise at all she saw. The dog added: "I have but a single
request to make to you, and that you must not refuse to grant." "What
is your request?" asked the princess. "You must promise me," said the
dog, "that you will never look at me while I am asleep: otherwise you
are free to do whatever you wish." The princess gladly promised to
grant his request, and so they went to the great castle. And if the
castle was magnificent from without, it was still more magnificent
within. It was so full of gold and silver that the precious metals
gleamed from every corner; and there was such abundance of supplies of
every kind, and of so many other things, that everything in the world
one might have wished to have was already there. The princess spent
the live-long day running from one room to another, and each was
handsomer than the one she had just entered. But when evening came and
she went to bed, the dog crept into his own, and then she noticed that
he was not a dog; but a human being. Yet she said not a word, because
she remembered her promise, and did not wish to cross her husband's
will.

Thus some time passed. The princess dwelt in the beautiful castle, and
had everything her heart might desire. But every day the dog ran off,
and did not reappear until it was evening and the sun had set. Then he
returned home, and was always so kind and friendly that it would have
been a fine thing had other men done half as well. The princess now
began to feel a great affection for him, and quite forgot he was only
a lame dog; for the proverb says: "Love is blind." Yet time passed
slowly because she was so much alone, and she often thought of
visiting her sisters and seeing how they were. She spoke of it to her
husband, and begged his permission to make the journey. No sooner had
the dog heard her wish than he at once granted it, and even
accompanied her some distance, in order to show her the way out of the
wood.

When the king's daughters were once reunited, they were naturally very
happy, and there were a great many questions asked about matters old
and new. And marriage was also discussed. The oldest princess said:
"It was silly of me to wish for a husband with golden hair and golden
beard; for mine is worse than the veriest troll, and I have not known
a happy day since we married." And the second went on: "Yes, and I am
no better off; for although I have a husband with silver hair and a
silver beard, he dislikes me so heartily that he begrudges me a single
hour of happiness." Then her sisters turned to the youngest princess
and asked how she fared. "Well," was her answer, "I really cannot
complain; for though I only got a lame dog, he is such a dear good
fellow and so kind to me that it would be hard to find a better
husband." The other princesses were much surprised to hear this, and
did not stop prying and questioning, and their sister answered all
their questions faithfully. When they heard how splendidly she lived
in the great castle, they grew jealous because she was so much better
off than they were. And they insisted on knowing whether there was not
some one little thing of which she could complain. "No," said the
king's daughter, "I can only praise my husband for his kindness and
amiability, and there is but one thing lacking to make me perfectly
happy." "What is it?" "What is it?" cried both sisters with a single
voice. "Every night, when he comes home," said the princess, "he turns
into a human being, and I am sorry that I can never see what he really
looks like." Then both sisters again with one voice, began to scold
the dog loudly; because he had a secret which he kept from his wife.
And since her sisters now continually spoke about it, her own
curiosity awoke once more, she forgot her husband's command, and asked
how she might manage to see him without his knowing it. "O," said the
oldest princess, "nothing easier! Here is a little lamp, which you
must hide carefully. Then you need only get up at night when he is
asleep, and light the lamp in order to see him in his true shape."
This advice seemed good to the king's daughter; she took the lamp, hid
it in her breast, and promised to do all that her sisters had
counseled.

When the time came for them to part, the youngest princess went back
to her beautiful castle. The day passed like every other day. When
evening came at last and the dog had gone to bed, the princess was so
driven by curiosity that she could hardly wait until he had fallen
asleep. Then she rose, softly, lit her lamp, and drew near the bed to
look at him while he slept. But no one can describe her astonishment
when throwing the light on the bed, she saw no lame dog lying there;
but the handsomest youth her eyes had ever beheld. She could not stop
looking at him; but sat up all night bending over his pillow, and the
more she looked at him the handsomer he seemed to grow, until she
forgot everything else in the world. At last the morning came. And as
the first star began to pale in the dawn, the youth began to grow
restless and awaken. The princess much frightened, blew out her lamp
and lay down in her bed. The youth thought she was sleeping and did
not wish to wake her, so he rose quietly, assumed his other shape,
went away and did not appear again all day long.

And when evening came and it grew late, everything happened as before.
The dog came home from the forest and was very tired. But no sooner
had he fallen asleep than the princess rose carefully, lit her lamp
and came over to look at him. And when she cast the light on his bed
it seemed to her as though the youth had grown even handsomer than the
day before, and the longer she looked the more handsome he became;
until she had to laugh and weep from sheer love and longing. She could
not take her eyes from him, and sat all night long bent over his
pillow, forgetful of her promise and all else, only to be able to look
at him. With the first ray of dawn the youth began to stir and awake.
Then the princess was again frightened, quickly blew out her lamp and
lay down in her bed. The youth thought she was sleeping, and not
wishing to waken her, rose softly, assumed his other shape, went away
and was gone for the entire day.

At length it grew late again, evening came and the dog returned home
from the forest as usual. But again the princess could not control her
curiosity; no sooner was her husband sleeping than she rose quietly,
lit her lamp, and drew near carefully in order to look at him while he
slept. And when the light fell on the youth, he appeared to be
handsomer than ever before, and the longer she looked the more
handsome he grew, until her heart burned in her breast, and she forgot
all else in the world looking at him. She could not take her eyes from
him, and sat up all night bending over his pillow. And when morning
came and the sun rose, the youth began to move and awaken. Then the
princess was much frightened, because she had paid no heed to the
passing of time, and she tried to put out her lamp quickly. But her
hand trembled, and a warm drop of oil fell on the youth and he awoke.
When he saw what she had done, he leaped up, terrified, instantly
turned into a lame dog, and limped out into the forest. But the
princess felt so remorseful that she nearly lost her senses, and she
ran after him, wringing her hands and weeping bitterly, and begging
him to return. But he did not come back.

The king's daughter now wandered over hill and dale, along many a road
new to her, in order to find her husband, and her tears flowed the
while till it would have moved a stone. But the dog was gone and
stayed gone, though she looked for him North and South. When she saw
that she could not find him, she thought she would return to her
handsome castle. But there she was just as unfortunate. The castle
was nowhere to be seen, and wherever she went she was surrounded by a
forest black as coal. Then she came to the conclusion that the whole
world had abandoned her, sat down on a stone, wept bitterly, and
thought how much rather she would die than live without her husband.
At that a little toad hopped out from under the stone, and said:
"Lovely maiden, why do you sit here and weep?" And the princess
answered: "It is my hard fate to weep and never be happy again. First
of all I have lost the love of my heart, and now I can no longer find
my way back to the castle. So I must perish of hunger here, or else be
devoured by wild beasts." "O," said the toad, "if that is all that
troubles you, I can help you! If you will promise to be my dearest
friend, I will show you the way." But that the princess did not want
to do. She replied: "Ask of me what you will, save that alone. I have
never loved any one more than my lame dog, and so long as I live will
never love any one else better." With that she rose, wept bitterly,
and continued her way. But the toad looked after her in a friendly
manner, laughed to himself, and once more crept under his stone.

After the king's daughter had wandered on for a long, long way, and
still saw nothing but forest and wilderness, she grew very tired. She
once more sat down on a stone, rested her chin on her hand, and
prayed for death, since it was no longer possible for her to live with
her husband. Suddenly there was a rustling in the bushes, and she saw
a big gray wolf coming directly toward her. She was much frightened,
since her one thought was that the wolf intended to devour her. But
the wolf stopped, wagged his tail, and said: "Proud maiden, why do you
sit here and weep so bitterly?" The princess answered: "It is my hard
fate to weep and never be happy again. First of all I have lost my
heart's dearest, and now I cannot find my way back to the castle and
must perish of hunger, or be devoured by wild beasts." "O," said the
wolf, "if that is all that troubles you, I can help you! Let me be
your best friend and I will show you the way." But that did not suit
the princess, and she replied: "Ask of me what you will, save that
alone. I have never loved any one more than my lame dog, and so long
as I live I will never love any one else better." With that she rose,
weeping bitterly, and continued on her way. But the wolf looked after
her in a friendly manner, laughed to himself and ran off hastily.

After the princess had once more wandered for a long time in the
wilderness, she was again so wearied and exhausted that she could not
go on. She sat down on a stone, wrung her hands, and wished for death,
since she could no longer live with her husband. At that moment she
heard a hollow roaring that made the earth tremble, and a monstrous
big lion appeared and came directly toward her. Now she was much
frightened; for what else could she think but that the lion would tear
her to pieces? But the beast was so weighed down with heavy iron
chains that he could scarcely drag himself along, and the chains
clashed at either side when he moved. When the lion finally reached
the princess he stopped, wagged his tail, and asked: "Beautiful
maiden, why do you sit here and weep so bitterly?" The princess
answered: "It is my hard fate to weep and never be happy again. First
of all I have lost my heart's dearest, and now I cannot find my way to
the castle, and must perish of hunger, or be devoured by wild beasts."
"O," said the lion, "if that is all that troubles you, I can help you!
If you will loose my chains and make me your best friend, I will show
you the way." But the princess was so terrified that she could not
answer the lion, far less venture to draw near him. Then she heard a
clear voice sounding from the forest: it was a little nightingale, who
sat among the branches and sang:

    "Maiden, maiden, loose his chains!"

Then she felt sorry for the lion, grew braver, went up to him,
unloosed his chains and said: "Your chains I can loose for you; but I
can never be your best friend. For I have never loved any one more
than my lame dog and will never love any one else better." And then a
wondrous thing took place: at the very moment the last chain fell from
him, the lion turned into a handsome young prince, and when the
princess looked at him more closely, it was none other than her
heart's dearest, who before had been a dog. She sank to the ground,
clasped his knees, and begged him not to leave her again. But the
prince raised her with deep affection, took her in his arms and said:
"No, now we shall never more be parted, for I am released from my
enchantment, and have proved your faith toward me in every way."

[Illustration: "THE LION TURNED INTO A HANDSOME YOUNG PRINCE."]

Then there was joy indescribable. And the prince took his young wife
home to the beautiful castle, and there he became king and she was his
queen. And if they have not died they are living there to this very
day.


NOTE

     The story of "The Lame Dog," the bride of the dog, has long
     been popular in Scandinavia (Hyltén-Cavallius and Stephens, p.
     381. From South Smaland). Saxo, to whom it was familiar, calls
     its heroes Otherus and Syritha, and even in the _Edda_ there is
     an echo of it in the tale of Freya and Odr. In Denmark the same
     story is told under the title of "The Dearest Friend."




XIV

THE MOUNT OF THE GOLDEN QUEEN


Once upon a time a lad who tended the cattle in the wood was eating
his noon-tide meal in a clearing in the forest. As he was sitting
there he saw a rat run into a juniper-bush. His curiosity led him to
look for it; but as he bent over, down he went, head over heels, and
fell asleep. And he dreamed that he was going to find the princess on
the Mount of the Golden Queen; but that he did not know the way.

The following day he once more pastured his cattle in the wood, when
he came to the same clearing, and again ate his dinner there. And
again he saw the rat and went to look for it, and again when he bent
down he went head over heels, and fell fast asleep. And again he
dreamed of the princess on the Mount of the Golden Queen, and that in
order to get her he would need seventy pounds of iron and a pair of
iron shoes. He awoke and it was all a dream; but by now he had made up
his mind to find the Mount of the Golden Queen, and he went home with
his herd. On the third day, when he led out his cattle, he could not
reach the clearing of his happy dream too soon. Again the rat showed
itself and when he went to look for it, he fell asleep as he had done
each preceding day. And again he dreamed of the princess on the Mount
of the Golden Queen, and that she came to him, and laid a letter and a
band of gold in his pocket. Then he awoke and to his indescribable
surprise, he found in his pocket both of the things of which he had
dreamed, the letter and the band. Now he had no time to attend to the
cattle any longer, but drove them straight home. Then he went into the
stable, led out a horse, sold it, and bought seventy pounds of iron
and a pair of iron shoes with the money. He made the thole-pins out of
the iron, put on his iron shoes, and set forth. For a time he traveled
by land; but at last he came to the lake which he had to cross. He saw
naught but water before and behind him, and rowing so long and
steadily that he wore out one thole-pin after another, he at length
reached land, and a green meadow, where no trees grew. He walked all
around the meadow, and at last found a mound of earth from which smoke
was rising. When he looked more closely, out came a woman who was nine
yards long. He asked her to tell him the way to the Mount of the
Golden Queen. But she replied: "That I do not know. Go ask my sister,
who is nine yards taller than I am, and who lives in an earth-mound
which you can find without any trouble." So he left her and came to a
mound of earth that looked just like the first, and from which smoke
was also rising. A woman at once came out who was tremendously tall,
and of her he asked the way to the Mount of the Golden Queen. "That I
do not know," said she. "Go ask my brother, who is nine yards taller
than I am, and who lives in a hill a little further away." So he came
to the hill, from which smoke was also rising, and knocked. A man at
once came out who was a veritable giant, for he was twenty-seven yards
in length, and of him he asked the way to the Mount of the Golden
Queen. Then the giant took a whistle and whistled in every direction,
to call together all the animals to be found on the earth. And all the
animals came from the woods, foremost among them a bear. The giant
asked him about the Mount of the Golden Queen, but he knew nothing of
it. Again the giant blew his whistle in every direction to call
together all the fishes to be found in the waters. They came at once,
and he asked them about the Mount of the Golden Queen; but they knew
nothing of it. Once more the giant blew his whistle in every
direction, and called together all the birds of the air. They came,
and he asked the eagle about the Mount of the Golden Queen, and
whether he knew where it might be. The eagle said: "Yes!" "Well then,
take this lad there," said the giant "but do not treat him unkindly!"
This the eagle promised, allowed the youth to seat himself on his
back, and then off they were through the air, over fields and forests,
hill and dale, and before long they were above the ocean, and could
see nothing but sky and water. Then the eagle dipped the youth in the
ocean up to his ankles and asked: "Are you afraid?" "No," said the
youth. Then the eagle flew on a while, and again dipped the youth into
the water, up to his knees and said: "Are you afraid?" "Yes," answered
the youth, "but the giant said you were not to treat me unkindly."
"Are you really afraid?" asked the eagle once more. "Yes," answered
the youth. Then the eagle said: "The fear you now feel is the very
same fear I felt when the princess thrust the letter and the golden
band into your pocket." And with that they had reached a large, high
mountain in one side of which was a great iron door. They knocked, and
a serving-maid appeared to open the door and admit them. The youth
remained and was well received; but the eagle said farewell and flew
back to his native land. The youth asked for a drink, and he was at
once handed a beaker containing a refreshing draught. When he had
emptied it and returned the beaker, he let the golden band drop into
it. And when the maid brought back the beaker to her mistress--who
was the princess of the Mount of the Golden Queen--the latter looked
into the beaker, and behold, there lay a golden band which she
recognized as her own. So she asked: "Is there some one here?" and
when the maid answered in the affirmative, the princess said: "Bid him
come in!" And as soon as the youth entered she asked him if he chanced
to have a letter. The youth drew out the letter he had received in so
strange a manner, and gave it to the princess. And when she had read
it she cried, full of joy: "Now I am delivered!" And at that very
moment the mountain turned into a most handsome castle, with all sorts
of precious things, servants, and every sort of convenience, each for
its own purpose. (Whether the princess and the youth married the story
does not say; yet we must take for granted that a wedding is the
proper end for the fairy-tale).


NOTE

     A distinctly visionary story is the fairy-tale of "The Mount of
     the Golden Queen." (From Södermanland, from the collection of
     the metallurgic Gustav Erikson, communicated by Dr. v.
     Sydow-Lund) whose hero sets out on a laborious, world-wide
     quest that finally brings him to the destined goal.




XV

OLD HOPGIANT


Once upon a time there were two neighbors: one of them rich and the
other poor. They owned a great meadow in common, which they were
supposed to mow together and then divide the hay.

But the rich neighbor wanted the meadow for himself alone, and told
the poor one that he would drive him out of house and home if he did
not come to an agreement with him that whichever one of them mowed the
largest stretch of the meadowland in a single day, should receive the
entire meadow.

Now the rich neighbor got together as many mowers as ever he could;
but the poor one could not hire a single man. At last he despaired
altogether and wept, because he did not know how he could manage to
get so much as a bit of hay for the cow.

Then it was that a large man stepped up to him and said: "Do not
grieve so. I can tell you what you ought to do. When the mowing
begins, just call out 'Old Hopgiant!' three times in succession, and
you'll not be at a loss, as you shall see for yourself." And with that
he disappeared.

Then the poor man's heart grew less heavy, and he gave over worrying.
So one fine day his rich neighbor came along with no fewer than twenty
farmhands, and they mowed down one swath after another. But the poor
neighbor did not even take the trouble to begin when he saw how the
others took hold, and that he himself would not be able to do anything
alone.

Then the big man occurred to him, and he called out: "Old Hopgiant!"
But no one came, and the mowers all laughed at him and mocked him,
thinking he had gone out of his mind. Then he called again: "Old
Hopgiant!" And, just as before, there was no hopgiant to be seen. And
the mowers could scarcely swing their scythes; for they were laughing
fit to split.

And then he cried for the third time: "Old Hopgiant!" And there
appeared a fellow of truly horrible size, with a scythe as large as a
ship's mast.

And now the merriment of the rich peasant's mowers came to an end. For
when the giant began to mow and fling about his scythe, they were
frightened at the strength he put into his work. And before they knew
it he had mown half the meadow.

Then the rich neighbor fell into a rage, rushed up and gave the giant
a good kick. But that did not help him, for his foot stuck to the
giant, while the latter no more felt the kick than if it had been a
flea-bite, and kept right on working.

[Illustration: "THE RICH MAN HAD TO GO ALONG HANGING TO HIM LIKE A
HAWSER."]

Then the rich neighbor thought of a scheme to get free, and gave the
giant a kick with his other foot; but this foot also stuck fast, and
there he hung like a tick. Old Hopgiant mowed the whole meadow, and
then flew up into the air, and the rich man had to go along hanging to
him like a hawser. And thus the poor neighbor was left sole master of
the place.


NOTE

     A genuine folk-tale figure is "Old Hopgiant." (Bondeson,
     _Svenska Folksagor_, Stockholm, 1882, p. 41. From Dalsland) in
     which a wonderful giant being comes to a poor peasant's
     assistance, and rescues him from his oppressor.




XVI

THE PRINCESS AND THE GLASS MOUNTAIN


Once upon a time there was a king who took such a joy in the chase,
that he knew no greater pleasure than hunting wild beasts. Early and
late he camped in the forest with hawk and hound, and good fortune
always followed his hunting. But it chanced one day that he could
rouse no game, although he had tried in every direction since morning.
And then, when evening was coming on, and he was about to ride home,
he saw a dwarf or wild man running through the forest before him. The
king at once spurred on his horse, rode after the dwarf, seized him
and he was surprised at his strange appearance; for he was small and
ugly, like a troll, and his hair was as stiff as bean-straw. But no
matter what the king said to him, he would return no answer, nor say a
single word one way or another. This angered the king, who was already
out of sorts because of his ill-success at the hunt, and he ordered
his people to seize the wild man and guard him carefully lest he
escape. Then the king rode home.

Now his people said to him: "You should keep the wild man a captive
here at your court, in order that the whole country may talk of what a
mighty huntsman you are. Only you should guard him so that he does not
escape; because he is of a sly and treacherous disposition." When the
king had listened to them he said nothing for a long time. Then he
replied: "I will do as you say, and if the wild man escape, it shall
be no fault of mine. But I vow that whoever lets him go shall die
without mercy, and though he were my own son!"

The following morning, as soon as the king awoke, he remembered his
vow.

He at once sent for wood and beams, and had a small house or cage
built quite close to the castle. The small house was built of great
timbers, and protected by strong locks and bolts, so that none could
break in; and a peephole was left in the middle of the wall through
which food might be thrust.

When everything was completed the king had the wild man led up, placed
in the small house, and he himself took and kept the key. There the
dwarf had to sit a prisoner, day and night, and the people came afoot
and a-horseback to gaze at him. Yet no one ever heard him complain, or
so much as utter a single word.

Thus matters went for some time. Then a war broke out in the land, and
the king had to take the field. At parting he said to the queen: "You
must rule the kingdom now in my stead, and I leave land and people in
your care. But there is one thing you must promise me you will do:
that you will guard the wild man securely so that he does not escape
while I am away." The queen promised to do her best in all respects,
and the king gave her the key to the cage. Thereupon he had his long
galleys, his "sea-wolves," push out from the shore, hoisted sail, and
took his course far, far away to the other country.

The king and queen had only one child, a prince who was still small;
yet great in promise. Now when the king had gone, it chanced one day
that the little fellow was wandering about the royal courtyard, and
came to the wild man's cage. And he began to play with an apple of
gold he had. And while he was playing with it, it happened that
suddenly the apple fell through the window in the wall of the cage.
The wild man at once appeared and threw back the apple. This seemed a
merry game to the little fellow: he threw the apple in again, and the
wild man threw it out again, and thus they played for a long time. Yet
for all the game had been so pleasant, it turned to sorrow in the end:
for the wild man kept the apple of gold, and would not give it back
again. And when all was of no avail, neither threats nor prayers, the
little fellow at last began to weep. Then the wild man said: "Your
father did ill to capture me, and you will never get your apple of
gold again, unless you let me out." The little fellow answered: "And
how can I let you out? Just you give me back my apple again, my apple
of gold!" Then the wild man said: "You must do what I now tell you. Go
up to your mother, the queen, and beg her to comb your hair. Then see
to it that you take the key from her girdle, and come down and unlock
the door. After that you can return the key in the same way, without
any one knowing anything about it."

After the wild man had talked to the boy in this way, he finally did
as he said, went up to his mother, begged her to comb his hair, and
took the key from her girdle. Then he ran down to the cage and opened
the door. And when they parted, the dwarf said: "Here is your apple of
gold, that I promised to give back to you, and I thank you for setting
me free. And another time when you have need of me, I will help you in
turn." And with that he ran off on his own way. But the prince went
back to his mother, and returned the key in the same way he had taken
it.

When they learned at the king's court that the wild man had broken
out, there was great commotion, and the queen sent people over hill
and dale to look for him. But he was gone and he stayed gone. Thus
matters went for a while and the queen grew more and more unhappy; for
she expected her husband to return every day. And when he did reach
shore his first question was whether the wild man had been well
guarded. Then the queen had to confess how matters stood, and told him
how everything had happened. But the king was enraged beyond measure,
and said he would punish the malefactor, no matter who he might be.
And he ordered a great investigation at his court, and every human
being in it had to testify. But no one knew anything. At last the
little prince also had to come forward. And as he stood before the
king he said: "I know that I have deserved my father's anger; yet I
cannot hide the truth; for I let out the wild man." Then the queen
turned white, and the others as well, for there was not one who was
not fond of the prince. At last the king spoke: "Never shall it be
said of me that I was false to my vow, even for the sake of my own
flesh and blood! No, you must die the death you have deserved." And
with that he gave the order to take the prince to the forest and kill
him. And they were to bring back the boy's heart as a sign that his
command had been obeyed.

Now sorrow unheard of reigned among the people, and all pleaded for
the little prince. But the king's word could not be recalled. His
serving-men did not dare disobey, took the boy in their midst, and set
forth. And when they had gone a long way into the forest, they saw a
swine-herd tending his pigs. Then one said to another: "It does not
seem right to me to lay hand on the king's son; let us buy a pig
instead and take its heart, then all will believe it is the heart of
the prince." The other serving-men thought that he spoke wisely, so
they bought a pig from the swine-herd, led it into the wood, butchered
it and took its heart. Then they told the prince to go his way and
never return. They themselves went back to the king's castle, and it
is easy to imagine what grief they caused when they told of the
prince's death.

The king's son did what the serving-men had told him. He kept on
wandering as far as he could, and never had any other food than the
nuts and wild berries that grow in the forest. And when he had
wandered far and long, he came to a mountain upon whose very top stood
a fir-tree. Said he to himself: "After all, I might as well climb the
fir-tree and see whether I can find a path anywhere." No sooner said
than done: he climbed the tree. And as he sat in the very top of its
crown, and looked about on every side, he saw a large and splendid
royal castle rising in the distance, and gleaming in the sun. Then he
grew very happy and at once set forth in that direction. On the way he
met a farm-hand who was ploughing, and begged him to change clothes
with him, which he did. Thus fitted out he at last reached the king's
castle, went in, asked for a place, and was taken on as a herdsman, to
tend the king's cattle. Now he went to the forest early and late, and
in the course of time forgot his grief, grew up, and became so tall
and brave that his equal could not be found.

And now our story turns to the king who was reigning at the splendid
castle. He had been married, and he had an only daughter. She was
lovelier by far than other maidens, and had so kind and cheerful a
disposition that whoever could some day take her to his home might
well consider himself fortunate. Now when the princess had completed
her fifteenth year, a quite unheard of swarm of suitors made their
appearance, as may well be imagined; and for all that she said no to
all of them, they only increased in number. At last the princess said:
"None other shall win me save he who can ride up the high Glass
Mountain in full armor!" The king thought this a good suggestion. He
approved of his daughter's wish, and had proclaimed throughout the
kingdom that none other should have the princess save he who could
ride up the Glass Mountain.

And when the day set by the king had arrived, the princess was led up
the Glass Mountain. There she sat on its highest peak, with a golden
crown on her head, and a golden apple in her hand, and she looked so
immeasurably lovely that there was no one who would not have liked to
risk his life for her. Just below the foot of the hill all the suitors
assembled with splendid horses and glittering armor, that shone like
fire in the sun, and from round about the people flocked together in
great crowds to watch their tilting. And when everything was ready,
the signal was given by horns and trumpets, and then the suitors, one
after another, raced up the mountain with all their might. But the
mountain was high, as slippery as ice, and besides it was steep beyond
all measure. Not one of the suitors rode up more than a little way,
before he tumbled down again, head over heels, and it might well
happen that arms and legs were broken in the process. This made so
great a noise, together with the neighing of the horses, the shouting
of the people, and the clash of arms, that the tumult and the shouting
could be heard far away.

And while all this was going on, the king's son was rambling about
with his oxen, deep in the wood. But when he heard the tumult and the
clashing of arms, he sat down on a stone, leaned his cheek on his
hand, and became lost in thought. For it had occurred to him how
gladly he would have fared forth with the rest. Suddenly he heard
footsteps and when he looked up, the wild man was standing before him.
"Thank you for the last time!" said he, "and why do you sit here so
lonely and full of sorrow?" "Well," said the prince, "I have no choice
but to be sad and joyless. Because of you I am a fugitive from the
land of my father, and now I have not even a horse and armor to ride
up the Glass Mountain and fight for the princess." "Ah," said the wild
man, "if that be all you want, then I can help you! You helped me once
before and now I will help you in turn." Then he took the prince by
the hand, led him deep down into the earth into his cave, and behold,
there hung a suit of armor forged out of the hardest steel, and so
bright that a blue gleam played all around it. Right beside it stood a
splendid steed, saddled and bridled, pawing the earth with his steel
hoofs, and champing his bit till the white foam dropped to the ground.
The wild man said: "Now get quickly into your armor, ride out and try
your luck! In the meantime I will tend your oxen." The prince did not
wait to be told a second time; but put on helmet and armor, buckled on
his spurs, hung his sword at his side, and felt as light in his steel
armor as a bird in the air. Then he leaped into the saddle so that
every clasp and buckle rang, laid his reins on the neck of his steed,
and rode hastily toward the mountain.

The princess's suitors were about to give up the contest, for none of
them had won the prize, though each had done his best. And while they
stood there thinking it over, and saying that perhaps fortune would
favor them another time, they suddenly saw a youth ride out of the
wood straight toward the mountain. He was clad in steel from head to
foot, with helmet on head, sword in belt and shield on arm, and he
sat his horse with such knightly grace that it was a pleasure to look
at him. At once all eyes were turned to the strange knight, and all
asked who he might be; for none had ever seen him before. Yet they had
had but little time to talk and question, for no sooner had he cleared
the wood, than he rose in his stirrups, gave his horse the spurs, and
shot forward like an arrow straight up the Glass Mountain. Yet he did
not ride up all the way; but when he had reached the middle of the
steep ascent, he suddenly flung around his steed and rode down again,
so that the sparks flew from his horse's hoofs. Then he disappeared in
the wood like a bird in flight. One may imagine the excitement which
now seized upon all the people, and there was not one who did not
admire the strange knight. All agreed they had never seen a braver
knight.

Time passed, and the princess's suitors decided to try their luck a
second time. The king's daughter was once more led up the Glass
Mountain, with great pomp and richly gowned, and was seated on its
topmost peak, with the golden crown on her head, and a golden apple in
her hand. At the foot of the hill gathered all the suitors with
handsome horses and splendid armor, and round about stood all the
people to watch the contest. When all was ready the signal was given
by horns and trumpets, and at the same moment the suitors, one after
another, darted up the mountain with all their might. But all took
place as at the first time. The mountain was high, and as slippery as
ice, and besides, it was steep beyond all measure; not one rode up
more than a little way before tumbling down again head over heels.
Meanwhile there was much noise, and the horses neighed, and the people
shouted, and the armor clashed, so that the tumult and the shouting
sounded far into the deep wood.

And while all this was going on, the young prince was tending his
oxen, which was his duty. But when he heard the tumult and the
clashing of arms, he sat down on a stone, leaned his cheek on his
hand, and wept; for he thought of the king's beautiful daughter, and
it occurred to him how much he would like to take part and ride with
the rest. That very moment he heard footsteps and when he looked up,
the wild man was standing before him. "Good-day!" said the wild man,
"and why do you sit here so lonely and full of sorrow?" Thereupon the
prince replied: "I have no choice but to be sad and joyless. Because
of you I am a fugitive from the land of my father, and now I have not
even a horse and armor to ride up the mountain and fight for the
princess!" "Ah," said the wild man, "if that be all you want, then I
can help you! You helped me once before, and now I will help you in
turn." Then he took the prince by the hand, led him deep down in the
earth into his cave, and there on the wall hung a suit of armor
altogether forged of the clearest silver, and so bright that it shone
afar. Right beside it stood a snow-white steed, saddled and bridled,
pawing the earth with his silver hoofs, and champing his bit till the
foam dropped to the ground. The wild man said: "Now get quickly into
your armor, ride out and try your luck! In the meantime I will tend
your oxen." The prince did not wait to be told a second time; but put
on his helmet and armor in all haste, securely buckled on his spurs,
hung his sword at his side, and felt as light in his silver armor as a
bird in the air. Then he leaped into the saddle so that every clasp
and buckle rang, laid his reins on the neck of his steed, and rode
hastily toward the Glass Mountain.

The princess's suitors were about to give over the contest, for none
of them had won the prize, though each had played a man's part. And
while they stood there thinking it over, and saying that perhaps
fortune would favor them the next time, they suddenly saw a youth ride
out of the wood, straight toward the mountain. He was clad in silver
from head to foot, with helmet on head, shield on arm, and sword at
side, and he sat his horse with such knightly grace that a
braver-looking youth had probably never been seen. At once all eyes
were turned toward him, and the people noticed that he was the same
knight who had appeared before. But the prince did not leave them much
time for wonderment; for no sooner had he reached the plain, than he
rose in his stirrups, spurred on his horse, and rode like fire
straight up the steep mountain. Yet he did not ride quite up to the
top; but when he had come to its crest, he greeted the princess with
great courtesy, flung about his steed, and rode down the mountain
again till the sparks flew about his horse's hoofs. Then he
disappeared into the wood as the storm flies. As one may imagine, the
people's excitement was even greater than the first time, and there
was not one who did not admire the strange knight. And all were agreed
that a more splendid steed or a handsomer youth were nowhere to be
found.

Time passed, and the king set a day when his daughter's suitors were
to make a third trial. The princess was now once more led to the Glass
Mountain, and seated herself on its highest peak, with the golden
crown and the golden apple, as she had before. At the foot of the
mountain gathered the whole swarm of suitors, with splendid horses and
polished armor, handsome beyond anything seen thus far, and round
about the people flocked together to watch the contest. When all was
ready the suitors, one after another, darted up the mountain with all
their might. The mountain was as smooth as ice, and besides, it was
steep beyond all measure; so that not one rode up more than a little
way, before tumbling down again, head over heels. This made a great
noise, the horses neighed, the people shouted, and the armor clashed,
till the tumult and the shouting echoed far into the wood.

While this was all taking place the king's son was busy tending his
oxen as usual. And when he once more heard the noise and the clash of
arms, he sat down on a stone, leaned his cheek on his hand, and wept
bitterly. Then he thought of the lovely princess, and would gladly
have ventured his life to win her. That very moment the wild man was
standing before him: "Good-day!" said the wild man, "And why do you
sit here so lonely and full of sorrow?" "I have no choice but to be
sad and joyless," said the prince. "Because of you I am a fugitive
from the land of my father, and now I have not even a sword and armor
to ride up the mountain and fight for the princess!" "Ah," said the
wild man, "if that be all that troubles you I can help you! You helped
me once before, and now I will help you in turn." With that he took
the prince by the hand, led him into his cave deep down under the
earth, and showed him a suit of armor all forged of the purest gold,
and gleaming so brightly that its golden glow shone far and wide.
Beside it stood a magnificent steed, saddled and bridled, pawing the
earth with its golden hoofs, and champing its bit until the foam fell
to the ground. The wild man said: "Now get quickly into your armor,
ride out and try your luck! In the meantime I will tend your oxen."
And to tell the truth, the prince was not lazy; but put on his helmet
and armor, buckled on his golden spurs, hung his sword at his side,
and felt as light in his golden armor as a bird in the air. Then he
leaped into the saddle, so that every clasp and buckle rang, laid his
reins on the neck of his steed, and rode hastily toward the mountain.

The princess's suitors were about to give up the contest; for none of
them had won the prize, though each had done his best. And while they
stood there thinking over what was to be done, they suddenly saw a
youth come riding out of the wood, straight toward the mountain. He
was clad in gold from head to foot, with the golden helmet on his
head, the golden shield on his arm, and the golden sword at his side,
and so knightly was his bearing that a bolder warrior could not have
been met with in all the wide world. At once all eyes were turned
toward him, and one could see that he was the same youth who had
already appeared at different times. But the prince gave them but
little time to question and wonder; for no sooner had he reached the
plain than he gave his horse the spurs, and shot up the steep
mountain like a flash of lightning. When he had reached its highest
peak, he greeted the beautiful princess with great courtesy, kneeled
before her, and received the golden apple from her hand. Then he flung
about his steed, and rode down the Glass Mountain again, so that the
sparks flew about the golden hoofs of his horse, and a long ribbon of
golden light gleamed behind him. At last he disappeared in the wood
like a star. What a commotion now reigned about the mountain! The
people broke forth into cheers that could be heard far away, horns
sounded, trumpets called, horses neighed, arms clashed, and the king
had proclaimed far and near that the unknown golden knight had won the
prize.

Now all that was wanting was some information about the golden knight;
for no one knew him; and all the people expected that he would at once
make his appearance at the castle. But he did not come. This caused
great surprise, and the princess grew pale and ill. But the king was
put out, and the suitors murmured and found fault day by day. And at
length, when they were all at their wits' end, the king had a great
meeting announced at his castle, which every man, high and low, was to
attend; so that the princess might choose among them herself. There
was no one who was not glad to go for the princess's sake, and also
because it was a royal command, and a countless number of people
gathered together. And when they had all assembled, the princess came
out of the castle with great pomp, and followed by her maids, passed
through the entire multitude. But no matter how much she looked about
her on every side, she did not find the one for whom she was looking.
When she reached the last row she saw a man who stood quite hidden by
the crowd. He had a flat cap and a wide gray mantle such as shepherds
wear; but its hood was drawn up so that his face could not be seen. At
once the princess ran up to him, drew down his hood, fell upon his
neck and cried: "Here he is! Here he is!" Then all the people laughed;
for they saw that it was the king's herdsman, and the king himself
called out: "May God console me for the son-in-law who is to be my
portion!" The man, however, was not at all abashed, but replied: "O,
you need not worry about that at all! I am just as much a king's son
as you are a king!"

With that he flung aside his wide mantle. And there were none left to
laugh; for instead of the grey herdsman, there stood a handsome
prince, clad in gold from head to foot, and holding the princess's
golden apple in his hand. And all could see that it was the same
youth who had ridden up the Glass Mountain.

Then they prepared a feast whose like had never before been seen, and
the prince received the king's daughter, and with her half of the
kingdom. Thenceforward they lived happily in their kingdom, and if
they have not died they are living there still. But nothing more was
ever heard of the wild man. And that is the end.


NOTE

     Very popular throughout the North is "The Princess on the Glass
     Mountain." (Hyltén-Cavallius and Stephens, p. 390, somewhat
     abridged) who may be looked upon as a relative of the Brunhilde
     of heroic legend, who may be brought down from her inaccessible
     height only by the bravest of the brave. The "wild man" who
     appears in the part of a magician to aid the hero, is a
     familiar figure in Northern legend. King Harald Harfagr,
     according to the "Book of Flateyar," released a "wild man" of
     this kind from captivity at his father's court, when a boy of
     five.




XVII

QUEEN CRANE


Once upon a time there was a poor, poor boy. He went to the king and
begged to be taken into service as a shepherd, and all called him
"Sheep-Peter." While he was herding his sheep, he used to amuse
himself with his crossbow. One day he saw a crane sitting in an
oak-tree, and wanted to shoot her. The crane, however, hopped down
further and further, and at last settled in the lowest branches. Then
she said: "If you promise not to shoot me, I will help you whenever
you are in trouble. You need only to call out: 'God aid me, and Queen
Crane stay by me, and I will succeed!'" With that the bird flew away.

At length war broke out and the king had to take the field. Then
Sheep-Peter came to the king and asked whether he might not be allowed
to go along to war. They gave him an old nag to ride, and he rode into
a swamp along the highway, and there the horse died. So he sat down
and clicked with his tongue; but the horse would not move. And the
people who rode by had their sport with him; while the youth pretended
to feel sad.

When the people had all passed by, the youth went to the oak in which
the Queen Crane dwelt. Here he was given a black steed, a suit of
brazen armor, and a silver sword. Thus he rode to battle and got there
as quickly as he could wish. Then he said: "God aid me, and Queen
Crane stay by me, and I will succeed!" With that he killed all the
enemy and rode away again. But the king thought that an angel had come
to help him, and wanted to hold him back. The youth, however, rode
quickly back to the oak, took off his armor, went down to the swamp,
and once more began to click to his horse. When the people rode by
they laughed and said: "You were not along to-day, so you missed
seeing how an angel came and killed all the enemy." And the youth
pretended to feel sad, so sad.

The following day the king once more had to take the field. And
Sheep-Peter came to him and said he wanted to go along. So they gave
him an old nag to ride, and he rode into a swamp beside the highway.
Then he sat down and clicked with his tongue; but the horse would not
move. When the people rode by they had their sport with him; but the
youth pretended to feel sad, so sad. When the people had gone by, he
went to the oak in which the Queen Crane dwelt, and was given a white
steed, a suit of silver armor, and a golden sword. Thus equipped he
rode to battle. When he arrived he said: "God aid me, and Queen Crane
... and I will succeed!" But he had forgotten to say "stay by me," and
so he was shot in the leg. But the king took out his handkerchief, and
tied up his leg. Then the youth said once more: "God aid me, and Queen
Crane stay by me, and I will succeed!" And he slew all of the enemy.
Then the king thought he was an angel from heaven, and wanted to hold
him. But the youth rode quickly to the oak, took off his armor, and
then went down to his nag in the swamp and tried to get it to move,
while the soldiers were passing. They laughed and said: "You were not
along to-day, and did not see how an angel came from heaven and killed
all of the enemy." The youth pretended to be very sad.

On the third day all happened as before. The king took the field. The
youth was given a wretched nag and rode it into a swamp beside the
highway. Then he began to click with his tongue but the nag would not
go on, and the people who rode past laughed at him. He pretended to
feel very sad; but when the people had passed, he went to the oak in
which Queen Crane dwelt, and she gave him a red steed, a golden sword,
and a golden suit of armor. Thus equipped he rode to war, and all
happened as before. He said: "God aid me, and Queen Crane stay by me,
and I will succeed!" and slew all the enemy. The king thought he was
an angel from heaven and wanted to hold him back by all means; but the
youth rode quickly to the oak, took off his armor, and rode down to
the swamp where he had his three nags. He hid the king's handkerchief,
and when the people passed by he was clicking with his tongue as
usual.

Now the king had three princesses, and they were to be carried off by
three meer-women. So the king had it proclaimed that whoever could
rescue them should receive one of them for a wife. When the day came
on which the oldest princess was to be carried away, Sheep-Peter
received a steed, a suit of armor and a sword from Queen Crane. With
them he rode to the castle, fetched the princess, took her before him
on his steed, and then lay down on the sea-shore to sleep. He had a
dog with him as well. And while he slept the princess wove her
hair-ribbon into his hair. Suddenly the meer-woman appeared, and she
awakened him and bade him mount his steed. Many people had been
standing there; but when the meer-woman appeared they all took fright,
and climbed into tall trees. But the youth said: "God aid me, and
Queen Crane stay by me, and I will succeed!" And then he slew the
meer-woman. Thereupon he rode quickly back to Queen Crane, took off
his armor, and herded his sheep again. But among the on-lookers had
been a nobleman, who threatened the princess, and forced her to say
that he had rescued her. And from Sheep-Peter no one heard a word.

On the following day the second princess was to be carried off. So
Sheep-Peter went to Queen Crane, who gave him a steed, a suit of armor
and a sword, and with them he rode to the castle, and fetched the
second princess. When they reached the sea-shore the meer-woman had
not yet appeared. So the youth lay down to sleep and said to the
princess: "Wake me when the meer-woman comes, and if you cannot wake
me, then tell my horse." With that he fell asleep, and meanwhile the
princess wove a string of pearls into his hair. When the meer-woman
came, the princess tried to wake him; but he would not wake up at all,
and so she told the horse to waken him. And the horse did wake him.
The great lords, however, who were standing about, climbed into the
trees out of pure fright when the meer-woman appeared. The youth took
the princess on his steed, cried: "God aid me, and Queen Crane stay by
me, and I will succeed!" and with that he slew the meer-woman. Then he
rode quickly back to Queen Crane, took off his armor, and led his
flock out to pasture. But among the on-lookers had been a count, who
threatened the princess, and said he would thrust her through with his
sword if she did not swear he had rescued her. The princess did so out
of fear; but from Sheep-Peter no one heard a word.

On the third day the same thing happened. Sheep-Peter was given a suit
of armor, a sword and a steed by Queen Crane, and fetched the youngest
princess. When he lay down on the sea-shore to sleep, he said to her:
"When the meer-woman comes, wake me, and if you cannot wake me, then
tell the horse to wake me, and if the horse cannot wake me, then ask
the dog to wake me." When the meer-woman came, neither the princess
nor the horse was able to wake him, and they had to call the dog to
help them. At last he woke up, took the princess on his horse, cried:
"God aid me, and Queen Crane stay by me, and I will succeed!" and slew
the meer-woman. Then he rode back again to Queen Crane, took off his
armor and let his flock out to pasture.

Not long after, the deliverers of the princesses were to come to the
castle and be married. But first the king asked his daughters which of
the three each wanted to have. So the oldest said: "The gentleman from
court," and the second said: "the count," but the third said
"Sheep-Peter." Then the king was very angry with his youngest
daughter; for he did not believe for a moment that Sheep-Peter had
delivered her. But she insisted and said she would take no one else.
The king then presented an apple of pure gold to the count and the
court gentleman; but Sheep-Peter got nothing.

Now all three of them were to hold a three-days' shooting-match, in
order to see which was the best shot; for the king hoped that
Sheep-Peter would make a proper laughing-stock of himself, and drop
far behind the others without any effort on their part. But
Sheep-Peter was so good a marksman that he hit everything at which he
aimed. And the very first day he shot a great deal, while the others
shot but little. Then they bought the game he had shot from him, and
gave him a golden apple for it. The same thing happened the second
day, and thus he got the other gold apple. But when Peter came home on
the evening of the first and second day, he had only a crow dangling
from his blunderbuss. And when he met the king, he threw the crow to
the ground and cried: "There is my whole bag!"

On the third day all went as before. Sheep-Peter hit everything at
which he aimed; but the others scored no hits. Then Sheep-Peter
promised them all he had bagged, if they would let him write what he
chose on their necks. They agreed to the bargain, and he wrote on the
neck of each: "A thief and a rascal." Then all three went home, and
again Peter had no more than a crow to show.

At night all three of them slept together in one room. When they woke
in the morning, the king came in to them, said good-morning, and asked
how they were. But he was much surprised to see that Sheep-Peter was
keeping them company. Then the youth said: "I was in the war, and slew
all of the enemy!" "Ah!" said the king, "you did not do that, it was
an angel from heaven; for you were sitting in the swamp." Then
Sheep-Peter drew out the king's handkerchief, and then the king
recognized him. Then the herdsman said: "I also delivered the
princesses!" But the king would not believe that, and laughed at him.
And then the youngest princess came along and told how it all had
happened.

And the youth took out the ribands of the other princesses, and the
king had to believe that this, too, was true. Then, Peter continued:
"I also shot all the game!" And again the king would not believe him
and said: "Nonsense, why you never brought home anything of an evening
but a wretched crow!" Then Peter produced the golden apples: "I was
given this one for the first day, and the other for the second." "And
what did you get for the third?" asked the king. Then the shepherd
showed him what he had written on the necks of the other suitors. And
when the king saw that, he had to believe him. And so he really got
the youngest princess, and with her half of the kingdom, and after
the king's death, all of it. But the two sham heroes got nothing at
all, and had only their trouble for their pains.


NOTE

     "Queen Crane" is also a very popular Northern fairy-tale. (From
     the collection of Hyltén-Cavallius and Stephens, communicated
     by Dr. v. Sydow-Lund). It is another of those tales with a
     presumably witless hero, but with a motive generally unknown: a
     bird bestows weapons and armor on the poor boy; while
     ordinarily this is done by a troll, a horse, or the spirit of
     one departed.




XVIII

TALES OF THE TROLLS


I

A peasant from Jursagard in the parish of Hanger had gone to the
forest the day before Christmas, and started out for home late in the
evening. He had just about reached the Klintaberg when he heard some
one call out: "Tell the malt-swine to come home, for her child has
fallen into the fire!" When the peasant reached home, there stood his
wife, who had been brewing the Yuletide ale, and she was complaining
that though she brewed and brewed, it did not have the right flavor.
Then he told her what had been shouted at him from the hill, and that
very moment a troll-witch, whom they had not noticed before, darted
down from the stove and made off in a great hurry. And when they
looked closer, they found that she had left behind a great kettle full
of the best malt, which she had gathered during the brewing. And that
was the reason the poor woman had not been able to give her brew the
right flavor. The kettle was large, made of ornamented metal, and was
long preserved in Hanger. It was at length sold at auction in 1838,
and melted down.


II

In former days, when a child came into the world, his mother was known
as a "heathen," until she could take him to church to be christened.
And it was not safe for her to leave the house unless she carried
steel about her in some shape or form. Now once there was one of these
"heathen" women in Norra Ryd, in the parish of Hanger, who prepared
lunch for the mowers, and went out and called them in to eat. Then one
of the mowers said to her: "I cannot come, for my sheaf is not yet
bound." "I will bind it for you," said the woman. The mowers went in
and ate, but saw no more of her. They went back into the field, and
were about to take up their work again, but still neither saw nor
heard her. They began to search, and hunted for a number of days; but
all in vain. Time passed, till it was late in the fall. One day the
weather was clear and sunny. To this very day there is a cotter's hut,
called Kusabo, that stands on a hill named Kusas, and the cotter who
lived there went to look for a horse. And there on the hillside he saw
the woman sitting who had disappeared, and she was sewing. It was not
far from Kusabo to Norra Ryd, so he recognized her at once. He said
"O, you poor thing, and here you sit!" "Yes," said she, "but you must
never mention it to Lars"--that was her husband--"for I shall never
return from this place. Even now I am only allowed to sit outside for
a little while."


III

Once upon a time a girl was hunting for berries on Kusabo mountain,
and was taken into the hill. But she wept, night and day, which
disgruntled the trolls, and they let her out again. But just as they
were letting her out, one of the trolls hit her such a blow on the
back that she was hump-backed for the rest of her life. She herself
used to tell how she had been kept in the hill.


NOTE

     Primitive faith and superstition are reflected in these three
     "Tales of the Trolls" (communicated from mss. belonging to Dr.
     v. Sydow-Lund). The first is also current in Norway; the others
     tell of women who have been _bergtagen_, "taken into the
     mountain." It is not so long since that every humped back,
     every weak mind, in short, every ill that had no visible
     explanation, was ascribed to the troll folk.




XIX

CHARCOAL NILS AND THE TROLL-WOMAN


In the old days there lived on a headland that juts out into the
northwestern corner of Lake Rasval, in the neighborhood of the Linde
mining-district, a charcoal-burner named Nils, generally known as
Charcoal Nils. He let a farm-hand attend to his little plot of land,
and he himself made his home in the forest, where he chopped wood in
the summer and burned it to charcoal in the winter. Yet no matter how
hard he struggled, his work was unblessed with reward, and no one ever
spoke of him save as poor Charcoal Nils.

One day, when he was on the opposite shore of the lake, near the
gloomy Harsberg, a strange woman came up to him, and asked whether he
needed some one to help him with his charcoal burning.

"Yes, indeed," said he, "help would be welcome." So she began to
gather blocks of wood and tree-trunks, more than Charcoal Nils could
have dragged together with his horse, and by noon there was enough
wood for a new kiln. When evening came, she asked the charcoal-burner
whether he were satisfied with the day's work she had done, and if
she were to come back the next day.

That suited the charcoal-burner perfectly, and she came back the next
day and all the following ones. And when the kiln had been burned out
she helped Nils clear it, and never before had he had such a quantity
of charcoal, nor charcoal of so fine a quality.

So she became his wife and lived with him in the wood for three years.
They had three children, yet this worried Nils but little, seeing that
she looked after them, and they gave him no trouble.

But when the fourth year came, she grew more exacting, and insisted on
going back to his home with him, and living with him there. Nils
wished to hear nothing about this; yet since she was so useful to him
in his charcoal-burning, he did not betray his feelings, and said he
would think it over.

It happened one Sunday that he went to church--where he had not been
for many years, and what he heard there brought up thoughts he had not
known since the innocent days of his childhood. He began to wonder
whether there were not some hocus-pocus about the charcoal-burning,
and whether it were not due to the forest woman, who aided him so
willingly.

Preoccupied with this and other thoughts, he forgot while returning to
his kiln, that he had promised the strange woman at the very
beginning, when she had first helped him, that, whenever he had been
home and was returning to the kiln, he would rap three times with his
ax against an old pine-tree not far from it. On this occasion, as we
have said, he forgot the sign, and as a result he saw something that
nearly robbed him of his wits.

As he drew near the kiln, he saw it all aflame, and around it stood
the three children and their mother, and they were clearing out the
kiln. They were pulling down and putting out so that flames, smoke and
ashes whirled sky-high, but instead of the spruce-branches that were
generally used to put out the fire, _they had bushy tails which they
dipped in the snow_!

When Charcoal Nils had looked on for a while, he slunk back to the old
pine-tree, and made its trunk echo to the sound of his three
ax-strokes till one could hear them on the Harsberg. Then he went to
the kiln, as though he had seen nothing, and all went on as before.
The kiln was glowing with a handsome, even glow, and the tall woman
was about and working as usual.

As soon as she saw Charcoal Nils, she came back with her pressing
demand that he take her home to his little house, and that they live
there.

"Yes, that shall come about," said Nils to console her, and turned
back home to fetch a horse. But instead he went out on the headline
of Kallernäs, on the eastern shore of Lake Rasval, where a wise man
lived, and asked the latter what he should do.

The old man advised him to go home and hitch his horse to his
charcoal-wagon, but to hitch the horse in such wise that there would
be not a single loop either in the harness or traces. Then he was to
mount the horse and ride back to the kiln without stopping, have the
troll-woman and her children get into the wagon, and at once drive out
on the ice with them.

The charcoal-burner did as the old man told him, saddled his horse,
paying strict attention that there were no loops in saddle or bridle,
rode across the ice through the wood to his kiln, and told the
troll-woman and her children to get in. Then he quickly turned back
through the wood, out on the ice, and there let his horse run as fast
as he could. When he reached the middle of the lake, he saw a pack of
wolves running along in the direction of Aboda-land, at the northern
end of the lake, and heading for the ice. Then he tore the
saddle-harness from the traces, so that the wagon with the troll-folk
was left standing on the bare ice, and rode as fast as his horse could
carry him for the opposite shore. When the trolls saw the wolves they
began to scream.

"Turn back, turn back!" cried the mother. "And if you will not for my
sake, then at least do so for the sake of Vipa (Peewee), your youngest
daughter!" But Charcoal Nils rode for the shore without looking back.
Then he heard the troll-woman calling on others for aid.

    "Brother in the Harsberg,
    Sister in Stripa,
    Cousin in Ringfels;
    Take the loop and pull!"

"There is no loop to pull!" came the answer from deep within the
Harsberg. "Then catch him at Harkallarn." "He is not riding in that
direction." The reply came from Ringfels.

And indeed Charcoal Nils did not ride in that direction; but over
stick and stone straight to his own home. Yet when he reached his own
courtyard, the horse fell, and a shot from the trolls tore away a
corner of the stable. Nils shortly after fell sick, and had to lie
a-bed for a number of weeks. When he was well again he sold his forest
land, and worked the little farm by the cottage until his death. So
that was one occasion when the troll-folk came off second best.


NOTE

     In "Charcoal Nils and the Troll-Woman" (Hofberg, p. 148. From
     Vestmanland) we have the story of a strange union. Malicious as
     the troll-folk are, when a marriage takes place between a
     troll-woman and a human being, the woman is beyond reproach,
     good and kind, the only reproach that can be made her is that
     she is not a Christian.




XX

THE THREE DOGS


Once upon a time there was a king who went forth into the world and
fetched back a beautiful queen. And after they had been married a
while God gave them a little daughter. Then there was great rejoicing
in the city and throughout the country, for the people wished their
king all that was good, since he was kind and just. While the child
lay in its cradle, a strange-looking old woman entered the room, and
no one knew who she was nor whence she came. The old woman spoke a
verse over the child, and said that she must not be allowed out under
the open sky until she were full fifteen years of age, since otherwise
the mountain troll would fetch her. When the king heard this he took
her words to heart, and posted guards to watch over the little
princess so that she would not get out under the open sky.

Some time afterward God gave the royal pair another little daughter,
and again the whole kingdom rejoiced. But the wise old woman once more
put in an appearance, and warned the king not to let the princess out
under the open sky until she were full fifteen years of age. And
then, after a time, God gave the royal pair a third daughter. This
time, too, the old woman appeared, and repeated what she had already
twice said. Then the king was much grieved; for he loved his children
above everything in the world. Therefore he gave strict orders that
the three princesses were always to be kept beneath the roof of the
castle, and that none were to dare transgress against this command.

Now a long time passed, and the king's daughters grew up and became
the most beautiful maidens of whom one has ever heard tell. Then war
broke out and the king, their father, had to leave them. One day,
while he was away at war, the three princesses were sitting in the
window and looking out, watching the sun shine on the little flowers
in the garden. And they felt a great desire to play with the lovely
flowers, and begged their guards to let them go into the garden for a
little while. But this their guards would not allow, for they feared
the king's anger. Yet the king's daughters pleaded so very sweetly
that they could not deny their pleas and they let them have their way.
But the princesses did not have long to walk about, for no sooner were
they beneath the open sky, than a cloud came suddenly down, and bore
them off, and all attempts to regain possession of them were
fruitless; though search was made in every direction.

Then the whole kingdom mourned and grieved, and one may imagine that
the king was anything but happy when he returned home and learned all
that had happened. Yet what is done cannot be undone, and in the end
they had to resign themselves to it. And since the king knew of no
other way to help himself, he had proclaimed throughout the kingdom
that whoever would deliver his three daughters out of the power of the
mountain troll should have one of them for his bride, and with her
half of the kingdom. When this became known in foreign lands, many
youths set forth with horses and followers to seek the princesses. At
the king's court were two princes who also went forth to see whether
fortune would be kind to them. They armed themselves in the best
possible way with coats of mail and costly weapons, and bragged and
boasted that they would not return without having done what they set
out to do.

And now we will let the king's sons ride out over the world on their
quest, while we turn to other people. Far, far out in the wild wood
there lived a poor widow, who had an only son who drove his mother's
pigs to pasture every day. And as he crossed the fields, he whittled
himself a flute, and amused himself playing it. And he played so
sweetly that he warmed the cockles of the hearts of all those who
heard him.

Now it chanced that the young swine-herd once sat in the wood blowing
his flute, while his three pigs were digging under the pine-roots. And
an old, old man came along, with a beard so long and so broad that it
hung far below his girdle. The old man had a large, powerful dog with
him. When the youth saw the great dog, he thought to himself: "If a
fellow had a dog like that to keep him company here in the wilderness,
he might consider himself lucky." And when the old man noticed this,
he began: "That is why I have come, for I want to exchange my dog for
one of your pigs." The youth was at once willing, and closed the
bargain. He received the great dog, and gave up the gray pig in place
of it. Then the old man went his way. But as he left he said: "You
have reason to be satisfied with our exchange, for that dog is not
like other dogs. His name is 'Take Hold!' and whatever you tell him to
take hold of he will seize, even though it were the grimmest of
trolls." Thereupon they parted, and the youth thought that fortune had
indeed favored him.

In the evening he called his dog and drove his pigs home. But when his
old mother heard that he had given away the gray pig for a dog, she
was angry beyond measure, and gave her son a good drubbing. The youth
told her to calm herself; but all in vain, the longer it lasted the
more furious she became. Then, since he did not know what else to do,
he called out to his dog: "Take hold!" At once the dog ran up, seized
the old mother and held her so tightly that she could not move. But
otherwise he did her no harm. And now she had to promise her son to
make the best of the matter, and then they were friends once more.

The following day the youth went to the wood again, with his dog and
the two pigs. After a time he sat down and played his flute as usual,
and the dog danced to his playing with such skill, that it was nothing
short of a miracle. And as he was sitting there, the old man with the
gray beard came out of the wood again, and with him another dog, no
smaller than the first. When the youth saw the handsome beast he
thought to himself: "If a fellow had that dog to keep him company here
where it is so lonely, he need have no fear." When the old man noticed
this, he began: "That is why I have come, for I want to exchange my
dog for one of your pigs." The youth did not lose any time, but agreed
to close the bargain. He received the great dog, and gave up one of
his pigs in place of it. Then the old man went his way. Yet before he
left he added: "You have reason to be well satisfied with your
purchase, for this dog is not like the other dogs. His name is 'Tear!'
and if you give him something to tear, he will tear it to pieces,
even though it were the grimmest of trolls." Then they parted. But
the youth was happy in the idea that he had made a capital exchange;
although he knew that his old mother would not be content with it. And
when evening came, and the youth went home, his old mother was no less
angry than she had been before. But this time she did not venture to
beat her son, because she was afraid of the great dogs. Yet, as is
usual, when women have scolded long enough, they stop of their own
accord--and that is what happened in this case. The youth and his
mother made peace with each other; though the mother thought to
herself that the damage done could not well be repaired.

On the third day the youth went into the wood again with his pig and
two dogs. He felt very happy, seated himself on a tree-stump and
played his flute as usual. And the dogs danced to his playing with
such skill that it was a pleasure to watch them. As the youth was
sitting there in peace and quiet, the old gray-beard once more came
out of the wood. This time he had a third dog with him, who was as
large as both the others together. When the youth saw the handsome
animal he could not help but think: "If a fellow had this dog to keep
him company in the wilderness, he would have no cause for complaint."
The old man at once began: "That is why I have come, in order to sell
my dog, for I can see you would like to have him." The youth was at
once willing and agreed to close the bargain. So he received the great
dog and gave up his last pig in place of it. Then the old man went his
way. Yet before he went he said: "You will be satisfied with your
exchange, for this dog is not like other dogs. His name is 'Hark!' and
his hearing is so keen that he hears everything that happens, though
it be happening many miles away. He even hears the grass and the trees
grow." Then they parted in the friendliest spirit. But the youth was
happy in the thought that now he need fear nothing in the world. And
then, when evening came on, and the swine-herd went home, his mother
was very sad to think that her son had sold all they possessed. But
the youth told her to be of good courage, since he would see to it
that they did not suffer want. And when he spoke to her in such a
cheerful manner, she grew content again, and decided that he had
spoken in wise and manly fashion. Then when day dawned the youth went
hunting with his dogs, and came back at evening with as much game as
he could possibly carry. And he continued to go hunting in this way
for a time until his old mother's store-room was well provided with
meat and all sorts of good things. Then he bade his mother a fond
farewell, called his dogs, and said he was going to wander out into
the world and try his fortune.

And he fared forth over mountains and tangled ways, and came into the
heart of a sombre forest. There he met the gray-beard of whom I have
already told you. And when he met him the youth was much pleased, and
said: "Good-day, grandfather, and thanks for the last time!" And the
old man replied: "Good-day to you, and whither away?" The youth
answered: "I am wandering out into the world to see what fortune has
in store for me." Then the old man said: "Keep right on going till you
come to the royal castle, and there your fortune will take a turn."
And with that they parted. The youth followed the old man's advice and
for a time wandered on straight ahead. When he came to a tavern he
played his flute and let his dogs dance, and was never at a lack for
bed and board, and whatever else he might want.

After he had wandered long and far, he at length came to a great city,
whose streets were filled with people. The youth wondered what it all
meant, and at last reached the spot where, to the sound of bell, the
king's proclamation was being cried--that whoever should deliver the
three princesses out of the power of the troll, would receive one of
them, and half the kingdom as well. Now he understood what the old man
had meant. He called his dogs, and went to the king's castle. But
there all had been grief and mourning since the day the king's
daughters had disappeared. And of them all the king and queen were the
most sorrowful. Then the youth went to the keeper of the door, and
asked him whether he might play and show his dogs before the king. The
courtiers were willing, for they hoped it might make him feel more
cheerful. So he was admitted and allowed to show his tricks. And when
the king had heard him play, and had seen the skillful dancing of his
dogs, he grew quite merry, and none had seen him as happy during all
the seven long years that had passed since he had lost his daughters.

When the dance was over, the king asked the youth what he asked as a
reward for having given him such a pleasure. The youth answered: "My
lord king, I did not come to you to win gold and gear. But I have
another request to make: that you allow me to set out and search for
your three daughters, carried away by a mountain troll." When the king
heard this his thoughts once more grew gloomy, and he replied: "You
need not even think of delivering my daughters. It is no child's play,
and your betters have already attempted it in vain. Yet should it
really come to pass that you deliver one of the princesses, you may be
sure that I will not break my word." So he took leave of the king and
set forth. And he decided to take no rest until he had found what he
sought.

Now he passed through many broad kingdoms without meeting with any
special adventures. And wherever he went his dogs followed him.
"Hark!" ran along and listened for anything worth hearing to be heard
around them; "Take Hold!" carried his master's knapsack and "Tear!"
who was the strongest, carried his master when the latter was weary.
One day "Hark!" came running up hastily, and told his master that he
had gone to a high mountain, and had heard the king's daughter, who
sat within it and span, and that the troll was not at home. This
greatly pleased the youth, and he hurried toward the mountain together
with his three dogs. When they got there "Hark!" said: "There is no
time to lose. The troll is only ten miles away, and I can already hear
the golden horse-shoes of his steed ringing on the stones." The youth
now ordered his dogs to break down the door into the mountain, and
they did. And as he stepped into the mountain he saw a lovely maiden,
sitting in the mountain-hall, winding a golden thread on a golden
spindle. The youth went up and greeted the lovely girl. Then the
king's daughter was much surprised and said: "Who are you that dare to
venture into the giant's hall? During all the seven long years I have
been sitting here in the mountain I have never yet seen a human
being." And she added: "For heaven's sake hasten away before the
troll returns home, or else your life will be forfeit!" But the youth
was unafraid, and said that he would await the giant's return without
fear.

While they were talking together, the giant came riding along on his
colt shod with gold. When he saw the gate standing open he grew
furiously angry and shouted till the whole mountain shook: "Who has
broken my mountain door?" The youth boldly answered: "I did, and now I
shall break you as well! 'Take Hold!' seize him! 'Tear!' and 'Hark!'
tear him into a thousand pieces." No sooner had he spoken than the
dogs rushed up, fell upon the giant and tore him into countless
pieces. Then the princess was happy beyond measure and said: "God be
praised, now I am freed!" And she fell upon the youth's neck and gave
him a kiss. But he did not wish to stay there any longer, saddled the
giant's colt, loaded it with all the gold and gear he found in the
mountain, and hastily went away with the king's beautiful daughter.

They passed on together a long distance. Then, one day, "Hark!" who
always ran ahead scouting, came quickly back to his master, and told
him he had been near a high mountain, and had heard the king's second
daughter sitting within it winding golden yarn, and that the troll
himself was not at home. This was very welcome news for the youth, and
he hurried toward the mountain with his faithful dogs. Now when they
drew near "Hark!" said: "There is no time to lose. The giant is only
eight miles away, and I can already hear the golden horse-shoes of his
steed ringing on the stones." The youth at once ordered his dogs to
break down the door into the mountain, no matter which way. And when
he stepped into the interior of the mountain he saw a lovely maiden
sitting in the mountain hall, winding golden yarn on a golden windle.
The youth went up and greeted the lovely girl. The king's daughter was
much surprised and said: "Who are you that dare to venture into the
giant's hall? During all the seven years I have been sitting here in
the mountain I have never yet seen a human being." And she added: "For
heaven's sake, hasten away, for if the troll comes your life will be
forfeit!" But the youth told her why he had come, and said that he
would await the troll's return quite undisturbed.

While they were still talking together, the giant came riding on his
steed shod with gold, and drew up outside the mountain. When he
noticed that the great door was open, he grew furiously angry, and
shouted till the mountain trembled to its very roots. He said: "Who
has broken my mountain door?" The youth boldly answered: "I have, and
now I shall break you as well! 'Take Hold,' seize him! 'Tear!' and
'Hark!' tear him into a thousand pieces!" The dogs at once rushed
up, threw themselves upon the giant, and tore him into as many pieces
as leaves fall in the autumn. Then the king's daughter was happy
beyond measure and cried: "God be praised, now I am freed!" and she
fell upon the youth's neck and gave him a kiss. But he led the
princess to her sister, and one can imagine-how glad they were to see
each other again. Then the youth packed up all the treasures he found
in the mountain hall, loaded them on the giant's steed, and went his
way with the king's two daughters. And they wandered along for a long
time. Then, one day, "Hark!" who always ran ahead scouting, came
hastily to his master and told him that he had been near a high
mountain, and had heard the king's third daughter sitting within and
weaving a web of gold, and that the troll was not at home. This
was very welcome news for the youth, and he hastened toward the
mountain, followed by his three dogs. When he drew near "Hark!" said:
"There is no time to lose, for the giant is only five miles away. I
can already hear the golden horse-shoes of his steed ringing on the
stones." Then the youth at once ordered his dogs to break down the
door into the mountain, by hook or by crook. And when he stepped into
the mountain, he saw a girl sitting in the mountain hall, weaving a
web of gold. But this maiden was lovely beyond all measure, with a
loveliness exceeding all the youth had ever thought to find on earth.
He now went up and greeted the lovely maiden. Then the king's daughter
was much surprised and said: "Who are you that dare to venture into
the giant's hall? During all the seven long years I have been sitting
here in the mountain I have never yet seen a human being." And she
added: "For heaven's sake, hasten away before the troll comes, or else
your life will be forfeit!" But the youth was full of confidence, and
said he would gladly venture his life for the king's lovely daughter.

[Illustration: "HE SAW A GIRL SITTING IN THE MOUNTAIN HALL, WEAVING A
WEB OF GOLD."]

While they were still talking the giant came riding along on his colt
shod with gold, and drew up at the foot of the mountain. When he went
in he saw that uninvited guests had arrived, and was much frightened;
for well he knew of the fate that had befallen his brothers. He
therefore thought it advisable to fall back upon cunning and
treachery, for he had not dared to venture on open battle. For that
reason he made many fine speeches, and was very friendly and smooth
with the youth. Then he told the king's daughter to prepare a meal in
order to show his guest all hospitality.

And since the troll knew so well how to talk, the youth allowed
himself to be beguiled by his smooth words, and forgot to be on his
guard. He sat down to the table with the giant; but the king's
daughter wept secretly, and the dogs were very restless; though no
one paid them any attention.

When the giant and his guest had finished their meal, the youth said:
"Now that I have satisfied my hunger, give me something to quench my
thirst!" The giant replied: "On the mountain-top is a spring in which
bubbles the clearest wine; but I have no one to fetch it." The youth
answered: "If that be all that is lacking, one of my dogs can go up."
Then the giant laughed in his false heart, for nothing suited him
better than to have the youth send away his dogs. The youth ordered
"Take Hold!" to go to the spring, and the giant handed him a great
tankard. The dog went; yet it was easy to see that he did not go
willingly; and the time passed and passed and he did not return.

After a while the giant said: "I wonder why your dog stays away so
long? Perhaps you would let another of your dogs go and help him; for
the way is long and the tankard is heavy." The youth did not suspect
any trickery and agreed. He told "Tear!" to go and see why "Take
Hold!" had not yet come. The dog wagged his tail, and did not want to
leave his master. But the youth did not notice it and drove him off
himself. Then the giant laughed heartily, and the king's daughter
wept, yet the youth paid no attention; but was merry and at his ease,
played with his sword, and dreamed of no danger.

Thus a long time passed; but nothing was heard of the wine nor of the
dogs. Then the giant said: "I can see that your dogs do not do as you
bid them, otherwise we should not have to sit here and thirst. I think
it would be well if you let 'Hark!' go up and see why they do not come
back." The youth agreed, and told his third dog to hurry to the
spring. But "Hark!" did not want to, and instead crept whining to his
master's feet. Then the youth grew angry and drove him off by force.
And when he reached the top of the mountain he shared the fate of the
others, a high wall rose round about him, and he was made a prisoner
by the giant's magic power.

Now that all three dogs were gone, the giant rose, and suddenly looked
altogether different. He took down a long sword from the wall, and
said: "Now I will do what my brothers did not do, and you must die at
once, for you are in my power!" Then the youth was frightened, and he
regretted he had allowed his dogs to leave him. He said: "I do not ask
for my life, since in any event the time will come when I must die.
But I would like to repeat the Lord's prayer, and play a psalm on my
flute, for such is the custom in my country." The giant granted his
prayer, but said that he would not wait long. So the youth kneeled and
began to blow his flute till it sounded over hill and dale. And that
very moment the magic wall was broken and the dogs were freed. They
came rushing on like the storm-wind, and fell upon the mountain troll.
The youth at once rose and said: "'Take Hold!', seize him! 'Tear!' and
'Hark!' tear him into a thousand pieces!" Then the dogs flung
themselves on the giant and tore him into countless pieces. Then the
youth took all the treasures that lay in the mountain, hitched the
giant's horses to a gilded wagon, and drove off as fast as he could.

Now when the king's daughters met again there was great joy, as may
well be imagined, and all thanked the youth for delivering them out of
the power of the mountain trolls. But the youth fell deeply in love
with the youngest princess, and they promised to be true to each
other. So the king's daughters passed on their way with music and
merriment of every kind, and the youth served them with all the honor
and courtesy due maidens of gentle birth. And while they were underway
the princesses toyed with the youth's hair, and each tied her golden
ring in his locks for remembrance.

One day while they were still underway, they met two wanderers, who
were traveling the same road. The clothes of the two strangers were
torn and their feet were sore, and their whole appearance showed that
they had a long journey behind them. The youth stopped his wagon, and
asked them who they were and whence they came. The strangers answered
that they were two princes, and had gone forth to search for the three
maidens in the mountain. But fortune had not favored them; and now
they had to return home more like journeymen than kings' sons. When
the youth heard this he felt sorry for the two wanderers, and asked
whether they would like to ride with him in his handsome wagon. The
princes thanked him profusely for his offer. They drove on together,
and came to the kingdom over which the father of the princesses
reigned.

Now when the princes learned that the youth had delivered the king's
three daughters, a great jealousy took possession of them, and they
thought of how badly they had fared in their own venture. And they
took counsel together as to how they might get the better of the
youth, and win power and glory for themselves. But they hid their evil
plot till a favorable opportunity offered for carrying it out. Then
they suddenly threw themselves on their comrade, seized him by the
throat and strangled him. And then they threatened to kill the
princesses if they did not swear to keep silence. And since the king's
daughters were in the power of the princes, they did not dare say no.
But they felt very sorry for the youth who had given up his life for
them, and the youngest princess mourned with all her heart, and all
her happiness was at an end.

After this great wrong the princes drove to the royal castle, and one
may well imagine how happy the king was to get back his three
daughters. In the meantime the poor youth lay like dead off in a gorge
in the forest. Yet he was not quite dead, and his faithful dogs lay
about him, kept him warm, and licked his wounds. And they did not stop
until their master came back to life again. When he was once more well
and strong he set out, and after many difficulties came to the royal
castle in which the princesses dwelt.

When he came in the whole court was full of joy and merriment, and
from the king's hall came the sound of dancing and string music. That
surprised him greatly, and he asked what it all meant. The serving-man
answered: "You must come from far away, since you do not know that the
king has regained his daughters who were in the power of the mountain
troll. This is the oldest princess's wedding-day."

The youth then asked after the youngest princess, and when she was to
marry. But the serving-man said that she did not want a husband, and
wept the live-long day, though no one knew why. Then the youth felt
happy once more; for now he knew that she loved him, and had kept
faith with him.

The youth now went to the keeper of the door, and bade him tell the
king that a guest had arrived who would add to the merriment of the
wedding festivities by showing his dogs. This was to the king's
liking, and he ordered that the stranger receive the best possible
treatment. And when the youth stepped into the hall, the whole wedding
company were astounded by his skill and his manly bearing, and all
agreed that so handsome a youth was rarely seen. But no sooner had the
king's three daughters recognized him, than they jumped up from the
table, and flung themselves on his neck. And then the princes thought
it best to make themselves scarce. But the king's daughters told how
the youth had freed them, and the rest of their adventures; and to
make quite certain they looked for their rings among his locks.

Now when the king heard of the trickery and treachery the two strange
princes had used, he grew very angry and had them driven ignominously
forth from the castle. But he received the brave youth with great
honor, as he had deserved, and he was married to the king's youngest
daughter that selfsame day. After the king's death the youth was
chosen king of all the land, and a gallant king he was. And there he
lives with his beautiful queen, and is reigning there happily to this
very day. And that is all I have to do with it.


NOTE

     "The Three Dogs" (Hyltén-Cavallius and Stephens, p. 195. From
     West Gotland). Fairy tales have a high opinion of the power of
     music, for the magic of the flute-playing breaks the evil spell
     of the troll, just as in the story of "Faithful and
     Unfaithful," the sound of the fiddle makes the troll's golden
     hall come out of the mountain.




XXI

THE POOR DEVIL


Once upon a time there was a peasant, who led his cow to pasture in
the spring, and prayed God to have her in His care.

The evil one was sitting in a bush, heard him, and said to himself:
"When things turn out well, they thank God for it; but if anything
goes wrong, then I am always to blame!"

A few days later the cow strayed into a swamp. And when the peasant
came and saw her he said: "Look at that! The devil has had his finger
in the pie again!"

"Just what I might have expected," thought the devil in his bush. Then
the peasant went off to fetch people to help drag the cow out. But in
the meantime the devil slipped from his bush and helped out the cow,
for he thought:

"Now he will have something to thank me for, too."

But when the peasant came back and saw the cow on dry land, he said:
"Thank God, she's out again!"


NOTE

     The little story of "The Poor Devil." (Bondeson, p. 212. From
     Smaland) which shows him attempting to rival God, is at once
     humorous and philosophical.




XXII

HOW SMALAND AND SCHONEN CAME TO BE


The Smalanders declare:

At the time when our Lord created the earth, he made a level and
fruitful stretch of land, and that was Schonen. But the devil had been
busy in the meantime, and had created Smaland, a barren region
consisting mainly of hills and swamps. When our Lord saw it, it looked
very hopeless to him, and he strewed the bits of earth that remained
in his apron out over it, and created the Smalanders. They turned out
to be a fine race of men, handsome and strong and able to take care of
themselves in any situation. It is said to this very day, that if you
take a Smalander and set him down on a rock in the sea, he will still
manage to save himself. But in the meantime the devil had been down in
Schonen, and had created the people who live there, and that is why
they are so slow, boastful and servile. But the people of Schonen say:

Once as our Lord and St. Peter were walking together, they heard a
terrible commotion in a forest. "Go see what is happening there,"
said our Lord. St. Peter went. And there was the devil and a
Smalander, who were pummeling each other with might and main. St.
Peter tried to separate them; but they paid no attention to him. So he
took his sword and chopped off both their heads. And he told our Lord
what he had seen and done: "No, that was not well done," the latter
replied, "go and put back their heads where they were, and touch the
wounds with your sword, and both will come to life again." St. Peter
did so, but he exchanged heads. Since that time the Smalanders all
have a bit of the devil about them, and those who know the devil, will
tell you that he is more or less like the Smalanders.


NOTE

     The unfruitful district of Smaland and the lazy and servile
     people of Schonen (as retold and communicated by Dr. v.
     Sydow-Lund), are supposed to be creative efforts of the devil,
     at least so the Danes and Swedes were wont to say, and Selma
     Lagerlöf has repeated it after them with variants. But the
     people of Schonen lost no time in inventing a close
     relationship between the Smalanders and the devil.




XXIII

THE EVIL ONE AND KITTA GRAU


One day the devil met Kitta Grau:

"Where have you been, old man?" asked Kitta Grau, for she recognized
him.

"Well," said the evil one, "I have been out on the farmstead where the
newly wedded couple live. This is the third time I have tried to sow
dissension between them; but they think so much of each other that it
is a sheer impossibility."

"You talk like a real stupid. That is something I could bring about
the very first time I went there," said Kitta Grau.

"If you can do that, you shall have a splendid pair of shoes," was the
evil one's reply.

"Mind you keep your word!" said Kitta, and turned toward the
farmstead.

There the woman was home alone; for her husband had gone to the
forest. Kitta said to the young wife:

"You really have a splendid husband."

"And that is the truth," the woman replied, "for he grants my every
wish before it is spoken."

"But take my word for it," said Kitta, "there is still a bit of
deceit in him. He has a pair of long hairs under his chin--if you
could get at them with a razor, and cut them off while he is asleep,
then he would be altogether without malice."

"Well," said the woman, "if that will help, I will be sure to keep an
eye open after dinner and attend to it, for then he always takes a
little noon-day nap."

Then Kitta Grau went out into the forest to the husband and bade him
good-day.

"You really have a very good wife," said Kitta.

"She could not be bettered," replied the husband.

"Well you might be mistaken for all that," said Kitta. "When you come
home, be on your guard, for when you go to take your noon-day nap, she
has in mind to cut your throat. So be sure not to go to sleep."

The husband did not think much of the matter; but still he thanked
Kitta Grau for her trouble.

Then he went home and ate his dinner, laid down and pretended to fall
asleep at once.

Thereupon his wife went to his shaving-kit, took out his razor, went
softly up to him and took hold of his chin with her hand.

Up flew the man.

"Do you want to murder me?" he cried, and gave his wife such a thump
that she measured her full length on the floor.

And from that day forward there was no peace in the house. Now Kitta
Grau was to receive her reward from the evil one. But he was so afraid
of her that he did not venture to give her the shoes until he stood on
one side of a stream, while she stood on the other, and then he passed
them over to her on a long pole.

"You are ever so much worse than I am," he told Kitta Grau.

The black man had made a bargain with a merchant. He had promised him
that all goods which he might buy he should sell again within three
weeks' time at a handsome profit. But, if he had prospered, after
seven years had passed he was to be the devil's own. And he did
prosper; for no matter what manner of old trash the merchant bought,
and if it were no more than an old worn-out fur coat, he was always
able to sell it again, and always at a profit.

Kitta Grau came into his shop and showed him the handsome shoes the
evil one had given her.

So the merchant said:

"May heaven keep me from him! He will surely fetch me when the time
comes; for I have made a pact with him; and I have been unable to buy
anything without selling it again in three weeks' time."

Then Kitta Grau said: "Buy me, for I am sure no one will buy me from
you!" And that is what the merchant did. He bought Kitta, had her
disrobe and cover herself with tar, and roll in a pile of feathers.
Then he put her in a glass cage as though she were a bird.

Now the first week went by, and the second week went by, and the third
week went by, and no one appeared who wanted to buy the curious bird.
And then, in due time, came the evil one, and wanted to fetch his
merchant.

"Have patience," said the merchant, "I still have something I have
bought, but have not been able to sell again in three weeks' time."

"That is something I'd like to see," said the black man. Then the
merchant showed him Kitta Grau, sitting in her glass cage. But no
sooner had the evil one seen the handsome bird than he cried:

"Oh, I see! It is you Kitta Grau! No one who knows you would buy you!"

And with that he hurried on his way.

Thus Kitta Grau could help do evil, and help do good.


NOTE

     The story of "The Evil One and Kitta Grau." (Bondeson, p. 206.
     From Halland) shows that it is child's play for an evil woman
     to accomplish what the devil himself cannot do. Yet some one
     has made an addition which redounds to Kitta's credit, and
     which makes her one of the heroines of fairy-tale who know how
     to take advantage of the evil one.




XXIV

THE LADY OF PINTORP


Where to-day a castellate building towers between spreading parks and
gardens on the noble estate of Eriksberg, there lay in ancient times a
holding known as Pintorp; with which legend has associated the
gruesome tale of the lady of Pintorp.

In Pintorp--so the legend says--there dwelt a nobleman who, dying in
his youth, left all his goods and gear to his widow. Yet instead of
being a kind mistress to her many dependents, she exploited them in
every way, and ill-treated them shamefully. Beneath her castle she had
deep subterranean dungeons, in which languished many innocent people.
She set vicious dogs at children and beggars, and if any one did not
come to work at the right time, he was sure to go home in the evening
with weals on his back.

Once, early in the morning, when the men came to work, the Lady of
Pintorp was standing on the castle steps, and saw a poor farm-hand
belonging to the estate come too late. Foaming with rage, she
overwhelmed him with abuse and reproaches, and ordered him to chop
down the largest oak on the whole estate, and bring it, crown
foremost, to the castle court before evening. And if he did not carry
out her command to the very letter--so she said--she would drive him
from his hut without mercy, and all that he had should fall to the
estate.

With heavy thoughts of the severe judgment passed upon him, the
farm-hand went to the wood; and there he met an old man who asked him
why he was so unhappy.

"Because it is all up with me, if our Lord in His mercy do not help
me," sighed the unfortunate man, and told of the task his mistress had
imposed on him.

"Do not worry," said the unknown, "Chop down this oak, seat yourself
on the trunk, and Erik Gyllenstjerna and Svante Banér will take it to
the castle."

The farm hand did as the old man told him, began to hew to the line,
and sure enough, at the third stroke the tree fell with a tremendous
crash. Then he seated himself on the trunk, facing the crown, and at
once the tree began to move, as though drawn by horses. Soon it rushed
along so swiftly that posts and garden-palings flew out of the way
like splinters, and soon they had reached the castle. At the moment
the tree-top struck the castle-gate, one of the invisible bearers
stumbled, and a voice was heard saying: "What, are you falling on your
knees, Svante?"

The Lady of Pintorp, who was standing on the steps, knew well who was
helping the man; yet instead of feeling regret, she began to curse and
scold, and finally threatened to imprison the farm-hand.

Then the earth quaked so that the walls of the castle shook, and a
black coach, drawn by two black horses, stopped before the castle. A
fine gentleman, clad in black, descended from the coach, bowed to the
lady and bade her make ready and follow him. Trembling--for she knew
well who the stranger must be--she begged for a three years' respite;
but the black gentleman would not grant her request. Then she asked
for three months, and that he refused as well. Finally she begged for
three weeks, and then for three days; but only three minutes were
allowed her to put her house in order.

When she saw there was no help for it, she begged that at least her
chaplain, her chamber-maid, and her valet be allowed to accompany her.
This request was granted, and they entered the carriage. The horses at
once started off, and the carriage drove away so swiftly, that the
people at the castle saw no more than a black streak.

When the woman and her companions had thus driven a while, they came
to a splendid castle, and the gentleman in black led them up the
steps. Above, in the great hall, the woman laid off her costly
garments and put on a coarse coat and wooden shoes. Then he combed her
hair three times, till she could no longer bear it, and danced with
her three times until she was exhausted.

After the first dance the Lady begged to be allowed to give her golden
ring to her valet, and it burned his finger like fire. After the
second dance she gave her chamber-maid her bunch of keys, and that
seared the girl's hand like red-hot iron. But after the third dance, a
trap-door opened in the floor, and the Lady disappeared in a cloud of
smoke and flame.

The chaplain, who was standing nearest her, looked down curiously into
the opening into which his mistress had sunk; and a spark shot up from
the depths, and flew into his eye, so that he was blind in one eye for
the rest of his life.

When it was all over, the black gentleman allowed the servitors to
drive home again; but expressly forbade them to look around. They
hastily entered the coach, the road was broad and even, and the horses
ran rapidly. But when they had gone a while, the chamber-maid could no
longer control her curiosity, and looked around. That very minute
horses, coach and the road itself were gone, the travellers found
themselves in a wild forest, and it cost them three years to get out
again, and make their way back to Pintorp.


NOTE

     In "The Lady of Pintorp" (Hofberg, p. 157) the devil appears in
     all his grewsome Satanic majesty. It has been claimed that the
     evil woman was a historical figure, the wife of the royal
     counselor Erik Gyllenstjerna.




XXV

THE SPECTRE IN FJELKINGE


During the first half of the eighteenth century, several large estates
in Schonen were the property of the family of Barnekow, or rather, of
its most distinguished representative at that time, Margaret Barnekow,
daughter of the famous captain and governor-general Count Rutger of
Aschenberg, and the wife of Colonel Kjell Kristofer Barnekow. A widow
at twenty-nine, she herself took over the management of her large
properties, and gave therein evidence of invincible courage, an
inexhaustible capacity for work, and a tireless solicitude for all her
many dependents and servitors.

While traveling about her estates, Madame Margaret one evening came to
the tavern in Fjelkinge, and was quartered for the night in a room
that had the name of being haunted. Some years before a traveler had
lain in the same room and presumably had been murdered: at any rate
the man himself and all his belongings had disappeared without leaving
a trace, and the mystery had never been explained. Since that time the
room had been haunted, and those who knew about it preferred to
travel a post-station further in the dark, rather than pass the night
in the room in question. But Margaret Barnekow did not do so. She had
already shown greater courage in greater contingencies, and chose this
particular room to sleep in without any fear.

She let the lamp burn and fell asleep, after she had said her evening
prayer. On the stroke of twelve she awoke, just as some planks were
raised in the floor; and up rose a bleeding phantom whose head, split
wide open, hung down on his shoulder.

"Noble lady," whispered the specter, "prepare a grave in consecrated
earth for a murdered man, and deliver his murderer to the judgment
which is his due!"

God-fearing and unafraid, Madame Margaret beckoned the phantom nearer,
and he told her he had already addressed the same prayer to various
other people; but that none had had the courage to grant it. Then
Madame Margaret drew a gold ring from her finger, laid it on the
gaping wound, and tied up the head of the murdered man with her
kerchief. With a glance of unspeakable gratitude he told her the
murderer's name, and disappeared beneath the floor without a sound.

The following morning Madame Margaret sent for the sheriff of the
district to come to the tavern with some of his people, informed him
of what had happened to her during the night, and ordered those
present to tear up the floor. And there they found, buried in the
earth, the remains of a body and, in a wound in its head, the
Countess's ring, and tied about its head, her kerchief. One of the
bystanders grew pale at the sight, and fell senseless to the ground.
When he came to his senses, he confessed that he had murdered the
traveler and robbed him of his belongings. He was condemned to death
for his crime, and the body of the murdered man was buried in the
village church-yard.

The ring, of peculiar shape, and its setting bearing a large gray
stone, is still preserved in the Barnekow family, and magic virtues in
cases of sickness, fire and other misfortunes are ascribed to it. And
when one of the Barnekows dies, it is said that a red spot, like a
drop of blood, appears on the stone.


NOTE

     "The Spectre in Fjelkinge" (Hofberg, p. 21) is founded on the
     ancient belief that innocent blood which has been shed calls
     for atonement, and the one who has been unjustly murdered
     cannot rest until the deed has been brought to light.




XXVI

THE ROOSTER, THE HAND-MILL AND THE SWARM OF HORNETS


Once upon a time there was a peasant who wanted to go to sell a pig.
After he had gone a while, he met a man who asked him where he was
going with his pig. "I want to sell it," answered the peasant, "but I
do not know what to do to get rid of it." "Go to the devil," said the
man, "he will be the first to rid you of it." So the peasant kept on
along the broad highway.

When he came to the devil's place, there stood a man out by the
wood-pile making wood. The peasant went to him and asked whether he
could tell him if they wanted to buy a pig in the devil's place. "I'll
go in and ask," said the man, "if you will make wood in my stead while
I am gone." "Yes, I will do that gladly," said the peasant, took the
ax, stood at the wood-pile and began to make wood. And he worked and
worked until evening came; but the man did not return to tell him
whether they would or would not buy a pig in the devil's place.

At length another man came that way, and the peasant asked him whether
he would make wood in his stead, for it was impossible to lay down the
ax unless another took it up and went on working. So the man took the
ax and stood there making wood, and the peasant went into the devil's
place himself, and asked whether any one wanted to buy a pig.

A crowd as large as that at a fair at once gathered, and all wanted to
buy the pig. Then the peasant thought: "Whoever pays the most, gets
it." And one would overbid another, offering far more than a whole
herd of pigs were worth. But at last a gentleman came along who
whispered something to the peasant, and told him to come along with
him; and he could have all the money he wanted.

So when they had reached the gentleman's house, and the peasant had
given him the pig, he received in payment a rooster who would lay
silver coins as often as he was told to do so. Then the peasant went
his way, well content with his bargain. But on the way home he stayed
overnight at a tavern kept by an old woman. And he was so exceedingly
happy about his splendid rooster, that he had to boast about him to
the old woman, and show her how he went about laying silver coins. And
at night, when the peasant was fast asleep, the old woman came and
took away his rooster, and put another in its place. No sooner did
the peasant awake in the morning than he wanted to set his rooster to
work. "Lay quickly, rooster of mine! Lay big silver coins, my
rooster!" But the rooster could lay no silver coins at all, and only
answered "Kikeriki! Kikeriki! Kikeriki!" Then the peasant fell into a
rage, wandered back to the devil's place, complained about the
rooster, and told how absolutely worthless he was. He was kindly
received, and the same gentleman gave him a hand-mill. When he called
out "Mill grind!" to it, it would grind as much meal as he wanted it
to, and would not stop until he said: "Mill, stop grinding!" And the
mill would grind out every kind of meal for which he asked.

When the peasant set out for home, he reached the same tavern at which
he had already put up in the evening, so he turned in and decided to
stay over night. He was so pleased with the mill that it was
impossible for him to hold his tongue; so he told the old woman what a
valuable mill he had, and showed her how it worked. But during the
night, while he was asleep, the old woman came and stole his mill and
put another in its place.

When the peasant awoke in the morning, he was in a great hurry to test
his mill; but he could not make it obey. "Mill grind!" he cried. But
the mill stood still. Then he said: "Dear mill, grind wheat meal!"
but it had no effect. "Then grind rye meal!" he shouted; but that did
not help, either. "Well, then, grind peas!" But the mill did not seem
to hear; but stood as still as though it had never turned a single
time in all its life. Then the peasant took the road back to the
devil's place again, and at once hunted up the gentleman who had
purchased his pig, and told him the mill would grind no more meal.

"Do not grieve about that," said the gentleman, and gave him a large,
large hornets' nest, full of hornets, who flew out in swarms and stung
any one whom they were told to sting, until one said "stop!" to them.
Now when the peasant again came to the old woman, he told her he had a
swarm of hornets who obeyed his commands. "Heavens above!" cried the
woman, "that's something worth while seeing!" "You may see it without
any trouble," replied the peasant, and at once called: "Out, out, my
hornets and sting the old woman!" And at once the entire swarm fell
upon the old woman, who began to scream pitifully. She begged the
peasant to please call back his hornets, and said she was only too
willing to give back the rooster and the mill she had taken.

The peasant did not object to this; but ordered his hornets to leave
the old woman alone, and fly back into their house. Then he went home
with his rooster, his mill and his hornets, became a rich man and
lived happily until he died. And he was in the habit of saying: "They
have a big fair in the devil's place, and you find real decent people
there, and above all, a liberal gentleman, with whom it is a pleasure
to do business."


NOTE

     In "The Rooster, the Hand-Mill and the Swarm of Hornets" (Mss.
     record by Stephens, from Wermland, communicated by Dr. v.
     Sydow-Lund) a poor peasant received three splendid gifts in the
     devil's place. The rooster who lays gold coins is a widely
     known magic bird, and the magic mill is also met with in the
     North.




XXVII

TORRE JEPPE


In a church-nave a specter sat night by night, and the specter's name
was Torre Jeppe. He was a dried-up corpse that could not decay. One
night three tailors were working at a farmstead in the neighborhood.
They were laughing and joking, and among other things they asked the
girl in the house, who was known to be brave, what they would have to
give her to go to church and fetch back Torre Jeppe. She could trust
herself to do it, was her answer; but they must give her a dress of
home-spun wool for her trouble. That she should surely have, said the
tailors, for they did not believe the girl would dare such a venture.
Yet she took the tailors at their word and really went.

When she reached the church, she took Torre Jeppe on her back, carried
him home and sat him down on the bench beside the tailors. They
timidly moved away; but Torre Jeppe moved after them, and looked at
them with his big eyes until they nearly lost their reason. In their
terror they begged the girl in the name of God to deliver them from
the specter. They would gladly give her another dress if she would
only carry the dead man away again. They had no need to tell her
twice, for she took Torre Jeppe on her back, and dragged him away
again.

But when she tried to set him down in the place where she had found
him, he did not want to let her go; but clasped his arms firmly about
her neck. In vain she said to him several times: "Torre Jeppe, let me
go!" At last he said: "I will not let you go until you promise me that
you will go this very night to the brook and ask three times: 'Anna
Perstochter, do you forgive Torre Jeppe?'" The girl promised to do as
he said, and he at once released her. The brook was a good mile off;
but she went there and asked three times in a loud voice, as she had
promised: "Anna Perstochter, do you forgive Torre Jeppe?" And when she
had called the third time a woman's voice replied from out of the
water: "If God has forgiven him, then I, too, forgive him!"

When the girl came back to the church Torre Jeppe asked eagerly: "What
did she say?" "Well, if God has forgiven you, then she, too, will
forgive you!" Then Torre Jeppe thanked her and said: "Come back again
before sunrise, and you shall receive your reward for the service you
have done me." The girl went back at sunrise, and in the place where
the phantom had been sitting she found a bushel of silver coin. In
addition she received the two dresses promised her by the tailors. But
Torre Jeppe was never seen again.


NOTE

     "Torre Jeppe" (retold and communicated by Dr. v. Sydow-Lund,
     after mss. version of Hyltén-Cavallius and Stephens) is a
     ghost-story founded on the old belief that a wrong done
     torments the doer even after death, that he tried to atone for
     it, and that then only can he enter on his eternal rest.




XXVIII

THE MAN WHO DIED ON HOLY INNOCENTS' DAY


Once upon a time there was a man named Kalle Kula. He was a wild
fellow, and had committed many a grievous crime during his life. When
he came to die, and his wife took up the Bible to pray for him as he
was lying there, he said, "No, this is Holy Innocents' Day, and it is
not worth while reading from the Bible for me. You had better go into
the kitchen instead, and bake waffles. I shall die this very day, and
then you must lay a bundle of waffles in my coffin." The woman went
into the kitchen and baked the waffles; but when she came back to him
again he was dead. So Kalle Kula was laid in the coffin with a bundle
of waffles beside him.

Then he came to the gates of Paradise with his little bundle of
waffles under his arm and knocked. But St. Peter said to him: "You
have no business here, with all the crimes you have committed." "Yes,
that may well be so, but I died on Holy Innocents' Day," said Kalle
Kula, "so at least I may look in and see the innocent children?" St.
Peter could not refuse him, and opened the door a little way. Kalle
Kula took advantage of the moment and cried: "Come, you little holy
innocents, you shall have waffles!" And as they had not been given any
waffles in Paradise, they all came rushing up, so that the door flew
wide open, and then Kalle Kula crept in.

But St. Peter went to our Lord, told him what had happened, and asked
what was to be done. "The best thing is to let your lawyer attend to
it," said our Lord, "because lawyers usually know all about evicting
people." St. Peter searched everywhere, but could not find a lawyer.
Then he went back to our Lord and reported to him that it was
impossible to find a single lawyer in all Paradise, and Kalle Kula was
allowed to remain where he was.

If you tie a thief and a miller and a lawyer together and roll the
whole bundle down a hill--no matter how you roll it--you can always be
sure that whoever is on top is a thief.


NOTE

     This story, part fairy-tale, part legend, "The Man Who Died on
     Holy Innocents' Day" (communicated by Dr. v. Sydow-Lund) has a
     Danish variant. Its innocently malicious humor is worthy of
     Gottfried Keller.


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