Spring had come, the snowdrifts had melted; the winds blew mild; the
earth began to blossom and the birchwoods to put on leaves.
The brothers toil on their removal from Jukola to Impivaara. They tramp
along a stony, twisting forest path, guns on shoulders and birch-bark
knapsacks with powder and shot in them on their backs. Juhani leads the
way with Killi and Kiiski, the two large, fierce Jukola dogs. Behind
them, drawing a springless cart, ambles, driven by Timo, the brothers’
one-eyed horse, old Valko. The others, with their guns and knapsacks,
follow the cart, helping Valko over the hardest stretches of the road.
Last of all comes Eero, carrying in his arms Jukola’s doughty cock,
for the brothers were loth to part with it, and had decided to take
it along to the wilds of Impivaara as timepiece. On the cart were a
coffer, traps for wolf and fox, an iron cauldron and in this two oaken
bowls, a dipper, seven spoons and other instruments of the cook’s art.
A coarse sack filled with peas served as cover to the cauldron; and
highest of all, the old farm cat squirmed and mewed in a little bag.
Such was the brothers’ departure from their home; silent and dejected,
they trod the difficult, stony forest path. The sky was bright, the
weather calm, and downhill to the west spun already the wheel of the
sun.
JUHANI. Man is a seafarer on the stormy sea of life. So we
too now sail away from the dear haunts of our childhood, sail with
our wheeled ship across the many forests towards the steep island of
Impivaara. Ah!
TIMO. It wouldn’t take much for this poor frog, too, to be
dabbing tears from his cheeks.
JUHANI. That I scarce wonder at, having looked into my own
bosom in this grievous hour. But there’s no help for it in this world,
a man’s heart must always be hard as a flint. The child of man is born
a wanderer on the face of the earth; here he has no abiding-place.
TIMO. Here he wanders a little while, struts and prances,
until at last he wilts and perishes like a rat at the foot of a wall.
JUHANI. Rightly said, wisely uttered.
SIMEONI. And if that were but all; but then’s the point.
JUHANI. Then comes the question of our pound, thou wouldst
say. True.
TIMO. Then we shall have to say without shift or guile; here
am I and here, Lord, is thy pound.
SIMEONI. A man ought always to remember his end; but his heart
is hardened.
JUHANI. Hardened, hardened, that can’t be denied. But such,
God knows, are all under this heaven. Yet we can earnestly try to live
hereafter as befitteth true believers, once we have settled down and
built ourselves a warm abode of peace. Let us join, brothers, in a
strict league and cast away all works of sin, all anger, strife and
hate in our birds’-nest here. Away anger, hate and pride.
EERO. And pomp.
JUHANI. Ay!
EERO. Flaunting, sinful raiment.
JUHANI. Ay!
EERO. Spring-carts and all such church-going vanities.
JUHANI. Eh? What art thou saying?
SIMEONI. He’s joking again.
JUHANI. I see that. See that I don’t grab thee by the neck,
that is, if I minded the babbling of a rogue; but I wouldn’t be a man
if I did, that I wouldn’t. How, thou twice damned imp, art thou holding
that cock? Why is the poor brute squawking?
EERO. I only set its wing right; it hung down.
JUHANI. I’ll set thee right soon. See that I don’t collar hold
of thee. Know that that is the best cock in the whole of our province
at his job. The first time he crows at two, the second at four o’clock,
which is the best time for rising. We shall have much joy of that
cock out here in the wilds. And the cat then up there on the load! Ah
Matti-lad! There thou dancest and swayest and peerest out of thy sack,
mewing quite pitifully. Poor old fellow, there aren’t very many days
left for thee to stalk about in. Thy eyes are turning very dark and
thy mewing sounds hoarse. But perhaps thou wilt still pick up when
thou startest on the fat forest mice. I hope so. But ’tis you, Killi
and Kiiski, I love above everything. Like ourselves, you were born
and bred on Jukola Farm, grew up with us like true brothers. Ah, how
burningly you look into my eyes! Ay, Killi, ay, my Kiiski-lad, ay! And
wagging your tails so merrily! Well, well, you can’t know that we are
now leaving our beautiful home. Oh you poor wretches! I can’t help it,
I must weep.
TIMO. Look to thine own advice a moment ago. Keep a stout
heart, a stout heart.
JUHANI. I can’t, I can’t, leaving my golden home.
TUOMAS. Truly a day to weigh on a man’s heart; but up on
Impivaara we shall soon have another home, soon perhaps as dear.
JUHANI. What, brother? Not in heaven or on earth is there
a spot as dear to us as the place where we were born and bred and in
whose fields we played as little, milk-bearded brats.
AAPO. The hour of parting crushes our hearts, ’tis true, for
even to a hare the home-bush is dear.
JUHANI. What was it the mother-hare once said, when feeling
herself heavy again, she sent the little hare away, out of the way of a
coming brood?
TIMO. ‘Get thee on thy way, little son, little one, and
remember always what I say: where the bush is there the trap is, where
the leap is there the snare’.
JUHANI. So she said to her son and the lad went lolloping
away; he lolloped, gaping, along the clearing and the edge of the
heath, his split lip in a guileless grin, so he parted from his home,
and mournfully shone the eve.
EERO. That was Jussi the Hare.
JUHANI. If thou wilt. So he parted from his home, and so we
too part from ours. Farewell, home! I could kiss thy threshold, even
thy dunghill now.
AAPO. Ay, brother. But let us try to drive this gloom out of
our minds. Soon we shall have a mighty task before us, soon the logs
will thunder, the axes ring, and up on Impivaara clearing a huge cabin
rise towards the heavens, set in the grandest forest. See, we are now
already in the wilds, amongst the roaring spruce.
Thus they spoke among themselves as they journeyed across a dismal
backwood. But soon the land began to rise, and their path wound upward
to a tree-clad height, which was called Teerimäki. Here and there
were mossy crags, shaped like the burial mounds of giants, round
which the dwarfed, stout-rooted pines soughed and murmured. Severely
were the cart and Valko’s aged shoulder-blade shaken on the rocky
road, where the eye could sometimes barely discern the marks of the
trail. The path led over a hill, for bottomless quagmires stretched on
either side. But the brothers, too, did their utmost to lighten the
toil of their one-eyed comrade. And at last the summit was reached,
and granting Valko a short breathing-space, they looked down on the
spreading earth. Their eye caught distant villages, meadows, fields,
blue lakes, and on the edge of the forests in the west, the high
steeple of a church. But in the south, on the slope of a knoll, Jukola
glowed like a lost land of delight; and once again the brothers’
bosoms filled with languishing thoughts. At last, however, they tore
their glance away and looked north, and there saw lofty Impivaara,
its steeply sloping sides, its darkling caves and the moss-bearded,
storm-riven spruce that stood along the ribs of the fell. But below
the fell they saw a pleasant stump-besprinkled clearing, their future
dwelling-place, and below the clearing a copse to yield them sturdy
logs wherewith to build their home. All this they saw: Lake Ilvesjärvi
shine clear between the pines and a bright sun near to its setting beam
from the northwest spur of the fell; and once more a delicious flash of
hope sparkled in their eyes and caused their breasts to swell.
Onward they fared again and began with bolder speed to hasten to their
new abode. The hill was passed and they came to a cluster of pines on a
heath, where heather, mountain-cranberry and withered tufts of grass in
varied sequence hid the echoing ground. Across a sandy, man-built road,
which led from Viertola Manor to the church, they marched, keeping to
their forest rack along the spine of the heath.
AAPO. This is the heath on which, so the old folk say, the
court-room of the snakes used to be. The judge was their own king, that
white snake so rarely seen of man, which has a crown of untold worth
on its head. But once a gallant rider robbed them of the crown, as the
story tells us.
And Aapo related the following tale to them as they trudged down the
spine of the heath towards desolate Sompio Bog.
A rider came and on the heath saw the Snake King, which bore a
glittering crown on its head. Riding towards it, he snatched the crown
from the king’s head with the point of his sword, dug the spurs into
his horse and whirled away with his treasure as though borne on clouds
and wind. But neither were the snakes slow in setting out in furious
pursuit of the brazen robber. Curled into rings, they sped hissing
after him, and a thousand hoops whizzed on the rider’s track like the
discs cast by playing boys on the road. Soon they caught up the rider,
swarmed already thickly round the horse’s feet, bouncing up along its
flanks, and great was the man’s danger. And in his distress he threw
down his hat as a sop to them, which they at once tore into pieces and
swallowed in the fury of their rage. But not for long did this trick
help the man; soon the snakes sped on his track again and the sand
whirled high on the road. And ever fiercer the rider spurred on his
panting horse; blood ran in streams from the fiery stallion’s ribs, and
from its mouth a spumy lather spouted. The rider fled to the woods,
but the trees did not hinder the speed of his pursuers. They came to a
river, and with a mighty splash he rode headlong into its depths, and
swiftly the stallion bore him over. The snakes too came to the river
and with the thunder of many rapids dashed into the bosom of its waves,
swimming across with the swiftness of a storm; and the white foam rose
high in the sky. The man rode on, and still the maddened horde pursued
him. Then afar off, he saw a forest that burned fiercely, and now
towards this he spurred his steed, and wrapping himself in the cloak
that the river had wetted through, charged into the whirling flames;
but the snakes never tarried a whit in following him. So might the
mounted hero of Heaven cleave the golden clouds. Once more he struck
his spurs into the stallion’s sides, once more he was borne onward,
and then the groaning stallion fell, forgetting for ever the heated
racket of life. But the man stood there free, saved from the fire and
his awful enemy; for the fire had burned the numberless host of snakes.
There the hero stood with rejoicing glances, the marvellous trinket in
his hand.
AAPO. That is the tale of the white snake’s crown on this same
heath.
JUHANI. A grand tale and still grander the man who snatched
the crown from the snake’s head and won it at last for himself. A bonny
man!
TIMO. Few have ever seen this snake, but he who sees it
becomes matchlessly wise, old folk say.
JUHANI. It is also said: ‘Whosoever catches this judge-snake,
in the spring before the cuckoo sings, and boils and eats it, that man
will understand the speech of the ravens which tells him what is going
to happen to him’.
EERO. It is also said thus: ‘Whosoever dost as thou sayest
after the cuckoo sings, that man will understand the raven’s speech
which tells him what has happed to him.’
JUHANI. Oh little brother, how daftly thou speakest! Doesn’t
every man know that without swallowing a crumb of snake’s meat? Look
you, now Eero has shown us the man he really is in the matter of
brains, an addled sheep. ‘Tell him what has happed to him’. Can such a
thought hail from a man’s brain? Oh thou poor ninny!
AAPO. Not so fast, Juho. He spoke either in ignorance or else
it was one of his jests; however that may be, in either case he cast
down before us a thought worth marking. Let us try to weigh his words
and I believe we can fish out the wisdom in them. To know what has
happened, is, one way of looking, great wisdom. If thou weighest over
carefully what seed sown in byegone days gave profitable, what harmful
fruit, and mappest out thy life, deeds and works, thereafter, thou
art a wise man. If our own eyes had opened earlier, we shouldn’t be
tramping here now like emigrants, I believe.
JUHANI. Like wolves’ cubs under the naked sky. But what’s done
is done.
TUOMAS. What we lost in Jukola we can gain again on Impivaara
clearing. Ho, hither the whole crowd of brothers, and let each man dig
his claws into the load to help Valko until the bog is crossed. All of
you hither! The wheels are sunk a whole span into the muddy ground.
Speaking thus among themselves they had wandered down from the heath,
crossed Seunala Matti’s wide clearing, passed through a close-growing
spruce-wood and now stood on the brink of Sompio Bog. Cheerless spread
the bog, its surface showing in succession muddy, quaggy openings,
mossy hummocks, and whortleberry bushes, while here and there stood
a stunted dying birch, mournfully nodding its crown in the evening
breeze. In the middle the bog was narrowest and there the earth was
closer and firmer than elsewhere. Here stood short pines in mossy
attire, and on the hummocks grew strong-scented bog-bilberry bushes.
And over this stretch of land a wretched track reached over to the
bog’s farther shore, where the dark wilds began again. Along this road
the brothers ventured out on the bog. Some pulled at the shafts beside
Valko, the others pushed at the cart behind. And at last, after much
exertion, the brink was reached and they fared again on dry land along
a root-crossed forest track to the extent of some five hundred paces.
And at last the stump-besprinkled level of the clearing shone before
them and they had reached their goal, beneath the crannied fell.
Where they now stood, the brothers’ grandfather, a giant at toil, had
once sown his clearings, and the smoke of his enormous charcoal-pits
had risen like incense to the sky. Many were the forests around
this fell that he had cut down and burned to clear and fructify the
soil, many the black, sown fields he had harrowed with his clumsy,
wooden-toothed harrow, to bear ultimately to his barn the grain-crowned
sheaves. A tumbled ruin on the clearing’s edge still marked the site
of his barn, whence the precious grain had at once been carted home,
leaving for winter’s easier sledge-ways the straw and chaff. Some
distance from the ruins of the barn, where forest and clearing met,
the black cavity of a charcoal pit, immensely large, could still be
seen, where he had burned the logs from his clearings for tinkling
charcoal. In such tasks had the former sturdy master of Jukola toiled
and laboured here beneath many scorching suns, wiping many a gush of
pearly sweat from his brow. But his nights he rested in a turf-roofed
hut, watching his kilns; and this hut the brothers had chosen for their
temporary home.
Vast is the stump-filled clearing, yet beyond its edges thine eye
cannot pierce; for in the east, the south and the west, forests limit
the view and in the north the lofty fell. But ascend the fell, to
its ridge crowned by scattered spruce, and thy glance can range far
on every side. Southward thou seest first, right beneath thy feet,
the gently slanting clearing, a little beyond this a gloomy forest,
beyond this again Sompio Bog, and yonder far on the verge of the sky
rises Teerimäki, a fainting blue. On its northern side the fell sinks
gradually, its sloping side, burned of yore for tilling, now displaying
to the eye a close-knit weft of growing birch, on whose grassless paths
the heath-grouse strut and the ruff-grouse whistle mournfully. In the
east is a level heath where the pines grow tall; in the west a rocky
country of mossy crags, with low, yet massive and thick-crowned pines
set here and there on velvety ridges. Behind the pines, limpid and
teeming with fish, Lake Ilvesjärvi glitters, a thousand or so paces
from the clearing. More thou wilt hardly see, though thy glance roam
far indeed. The backwood’s darkling sea looms round on every side. Thou
canst catch, however, a dim gleam of Viertola Manor in the northeast,
and far away on the distant southwest edge of the earth a grey church
spire. Such with its surroundings was the spot the Jukola brothers had
chosen for their home.
But this evening the brothers halted close to the charcoal-burner’s
hut, and having freed the weary Valko from the shafts to seek, with a
bell tied round his neck, his own pastures, they gathered stumps and
faggots for a merry fire on the clearing. There Simeoni broiled sprats,
turnips and beef for supper, while the others bustled round the cart,
unpacking the load and bearing each tool and chattel to its appointed
place. And when this was done and the food ready, they sat down to eat
on the twilit clearing; and the sun had sunk behind the fell.
SIMEONI. This then is the first meal in our new home; may it
bring luck and God’s peace to all our other meals.
JUHANI. May luck, a bounteous luck, be our only comrade here
in all the works and deeds our hands can find to do.
AAPO. I have something important to say.
JUHANI. Loosen it from the cockles of thy heart.
AAPO. A headless body is no use, say I.
JUHANI. But bangs against walls like a beheaded hen.
TIMO. Never mind beheaded, when the fit comes on it, a
hen’ll dash about like that and that, hither and thither. Old Mother
Pinewood’s hens often do, and then the old woman says the sorcerers’
arrows are flying through the air.
JUHANI. Empty thy mouth, brother Aapo.
AAPO. This is the thought in my mind: if we wish to get
anything done here and done properly, one of us must be chief, leader
of our councils, settler of our quarrels. In a word, let there be one
among us whose voice shall always be foremost, for the sake of order.
JUHANI. I am the eldest here.
AAPO. Thou art first-born in the row of Jukolas, so may the
due right be thine.
JUHANI. I am head of the row, and know how to demand obedience
of you--if you would only obey me.
AAPO. That is fair and just. But still, let us hear everyone’s
voice in matters that concern us all.
JUHANI. To thy advice in particular I shall always lend a
willing ear. But I am chief.
AAPO. True. But what punishment shall we settle on for him who
is always obstinate, always against the rest?
JUHANI. I will thrust him into a cavern on yonder fell, and
carry a heavy pile of rocks to close up the cavern’s mouth. There he
can sit a day or two, as matters and circumstances demand. Ay, there he
can suck his nails and ponder over his solitude.
LAURI. I won’t agree to that for one.
TUOMAS. Nor I.
TIMO. Am I then a wrinkly-faced badger, whose home is a stuffy
mountain cave? Far from it.
JUHANI. You begin to mutiny?
TUOMAS. That paragraph about punishment won’t do. No.
TIMO. Won’t hold water, as the saying goes. I’m no badger, or
skunk either.
JUHANI. Then behave thyself nicely and well, to escape the
vengeful terror of my wrath.
TIMO. But I am not a badger, nor a wolf. Hey! I’m not even a
bear, nor a rat! Shame, for shame! Hey, hey!
AAPO. May I be allowed to say a word?
JUHANI. Willingly. What didst thou wish to say?
AAPO. That neither do I approve of that punishment paragraph
which thou wouldst lay down for us, but look upon it as too cruel, too
savage amongst brothers.
JUHANI. Oh, thou dost not approve? Thou dost not approve? Dost
thou really not approve? Then tell us a wiser paragraph, as I never
seem to know what is right, what wrong.
AAPO. That I won’t do.
JUHANI. Tell us the new, approved paragraph, thou Jukolas’
sage.
AAPO. Far from the honour of sage. But this ...
JUHANI. The paragraph! The paragraph!
AAPO. This is ...
JUHANI. The paragraph, the paragraph! Tell us the wise
paragraph!
AAPO. Art thou mad? Shouting there as though thy breeches
were ablaze. What art thou shrieking and wagging thy head for like a
garden-owl?
JUHANI. The paragraph! I cry madly. The brand new and old wise
paragraph! Say it and I’ll listen speechless as a roach to a frog’s
croaking.
AAPO. This is my idea in the matter. He who scorns advice and
warnings and always stirs up mischief, sowing the seed of discord among
us, let him be removed from our midst, let him be driven far away.
TUOMAS. Let this be the law.
LAURI. I agree to that.
TIMO. I too.
SIMEONI. We all agree to that together.
JUHANI. Hm. That’s settled then. And remember, the one who
feels like getting frisky after this, it’s a hare’s passport in his
fist, a kick in the buttocks and the open road for him. What work shall
we start on tomorrow, you blackamoors? Oh I’ll teach you yet.
AAPO. Still a little heated; but that needn’t dim our calm and
bright spirits in this evening hour.
JUHANI. What shall we begin on when the day dawns?
AAPO. The building of our cabin comes first of course.
JUHANI. That’s so. Early tomorrow let four men, each with an
axe-shaft in his paw, start at his corner, these men being I myself,
Tuomas, Simeoni and Aapo. The others can square the logs and roll them
up to us. And as soon as the cabin and a tiny store-house are ready,
all hands to gathering grub on hunting and fishing trips. Remember that!
They finished at last their meal and lay down to rest in the shelter
of the hut. Night came, a cloudy, yet calm May night. In the wilds the
owl screeched hoarsely, the wild duck croaked on the lake, and now and
again the sharp whistle of a bear was heard from afar. Else peace and
a deep silence in nature. But to the brothers in their turf-roofed hut
sleep seemed loth to come. Speechless, but tossing from side to side,
they pondered over the way of the world and the instability of life.
AAPO. I believe not a single eye has closed yet.
JUHANI. Timo’s already asleep, but we others wriggle and twist
here like sausages in a boiling cauldron. Why are we so wide-awake?
AAPO. The path of our lives has taken a sharp turn today.
JUHANI. That’s what makes me so uneasy, so very uneasy in my
mind.
SIMEONI. Dark is the state of my heart. What am I? A prodigal
son.
JUHANI. Hm. A lost sheep in the wilderness.
SIMEONI. Leaving our neighbours and Christian fellows like
this.
TUOMAS. Here we are and here we stay as long as the forest
yields fresh meat.
AAPO. All will turn out well if only we always set to with
common-sense.
SIMEONI. The owl is hooting in yonder wilds and its cry never
bodes any good. Doesn’t it foretell fire, bloody battle and murder, as
the old folks say?
TUOMAS. To hoot in the forest is its job and has no meaning.
EERO. Here we are in our village, on Impivaara’s turf-roofed
farm.
SIMEONI. Now the seer has changed his perch and hoots on the
ridge of the fell. There, once upon a time as the tale tells us, the
‘Pale Maiden’ used to pray forgiveness for her sins, all through the
night, summer and winter.
JUHANI. It was from her the fell got the name Impivaara.[2] I
once heard the story as a child, but most of it has already faded from
my memory. Brother Aapo, tell us this tale to wile away this dismal
night.
AAPO. Timo snores like a man; but let him sleep in peace; I’d
like to tell it to you others.
The following tale of the Pale Maiden was now told by Aapo to his
brothers.
In the caverns of this fell there once dwelt a horrible monster, the
terror and death of all humans. The two great lusts and passions of
his life were: to gaze on and finger his treasures in the deepest
corners of the caverns, and to drink human blood, for which he thirsted
greatly. But his power to use violence ended nine paces away from the
fell, and so he was forced to use trickery on his excursions. He could
change himself into anything he liked; and he was seen wandering around
now in the form of a beautiful youth, now in the form of a lovely
maiden, according to whether it was male or female blood he wanted.
Many were overcome by the hellish delight of his glance, many gave up
their lives in his fearsome caverns. In this way the monster tempted
victims into his power.
It was a mild summer night. A youth sat on the green sward, embracing
his beloved, who rested on his bosom like a glowing rose. This was
their farewell embrace, for the youth had to go on a journey and leave
the friend of his heart for a time. ‘Maiden,’ said the youth, ‘I leave
thee now, but scarce a hundred suns shall have risen and set before
again I meet thee.’ Said the maiden: ‘Nor the sun in its setting ever
casts so loving a farewell glance at its world as I to my lover when he
departs, nor the rising flame of day glow with a delight like to that
in my eyes when I hasten to meet thee again. And all that the bright
day can hold of my soul is my thought of thee, and in the dim world of
dreams I will walk with thee.’ Thus the maiden, but the youth said:
‘Sweetly thou speakest, but why does my soul scent evil? Maiden mine,
let us swear eternal faithfulness to each other here under the face of
Heaven.’ And they swore a sacred oath, swore before God and Heaven,
and the forests and fells listened breathless to their words. And when
the day broke they embraced for the last time and parted. Away hastened
the youth, but the maiden roamed for long alone in the forest’s
twilight, remembering her beautiful lover.
As she thus wanders in the dense forest, what marvellous being is this
that comes forth to meet her? She sees a young man, noble as a prince
and fair as that golden morning. Like a flame the tuft of feathers
in his hat gleams and glitters. From his shoulders hangs a cloak,
blue as the sky and like the sky, spattered with stars. His doublet
is white as snow; round his waist a purple belt is tied. He looks at
the maiden and from his glance streams a flaming love, and his voice
echoes blissfully as he says to her: ‘Fear me not, sweet maid, for I
am thy friend and will grant thee limitless joy if I may embrace thee
but once. I am a mighty man, treasure and jewels without end are mine,
and I could purchase the whole of this world. Be my bride and I will
take thee to a splendid palace and seat thee beside me on a shining
throne.’ This he said in an enticing tone and the maiden stood there
dazed. She remembered the oath newly sworn and turned to go, but bent
again towards the man, and a strange bewilderment possessed her mind.
She turned towards the man, hiding her face with her hand as one who
looks upon the sun; turned away, but looked once more upon the wondrous
being. A mighty love shone thence to meet her, and suddenly the maiden
sank in the prince’s arms. But away sped the prince with his prey, who
lay in his arms as in a swoon. Over steep hills, across deep valleys,
they fled without resting, and darker and darker grew the forest around
them. The maiden’s heart beat uneasily and an anguished sweat ran down
from her brow; for at last she noticed something beastlike, terrible,
in the bewitching blaze of the being’s eyes. She looked around her,
and swiftly the gloomy spruce hurtled past them as her bearer sped on;
she looked in the youth’s eyes and ghastly spasms shook her body, but a
strange delight still gripped her soul.
They fared ever onward through the forests and at last saw a lofty fell
fitted with dark caverns. And now, only a few paces from the mountain,
the horror occurred. The man in kingly attire suddenly became a hideous
monster. Horns broke out upon his forehead, stiff bristles rustled on
his neck, and the wretched maiden felt with pain his sharp claws at her
breast. And there the hapless maiden shrieked, fought and struggled in
her agony, but in vain. With an evil scream the monster dragged her
to his deepest cave and sucked her blood to the very last drop. But
now a miracle occurred; the life failed to leave the maiden’s limbs;
bloodless, white as snow, she went on living, like a mournful spectre
of death from the lands beyond. The monster saw this with amazement and
used both teeth and claws to the best of his power against his victim,
but to no avail. At last he decided to keep her for ever at his side
in the bowels of the fell. But what service could she do him? What
profit could he draw from her presence there? He put her to clean his
treasures and precious stones and to pile them unceasingly before him,
for he never tired of looking at them.
So for years the pallid bloodless maiden lived imprisoned in the fell.
But at night she was seen standing in silent prayer on its summit. Who
gave her this freedom? Was it the power of Heaven? Through the nights,
in storm, in rain, and biting frosts she stands on the brow of the
fell praying forgiveness for her sins. Bloodless, white as snow, like
an image, so silent, moveless she stands, hands on breast, head bent
down. Not once dares the wretched maiden lift her brow towards Heaven;
but towards the church tower on the forest’s distant edge her eyes are
ever fixed. For a secret voice still breathes hope in her ear, though
no bigger than a distant spark, a thousand leagues away, does this
hope gleam to her. Thus she spends her nights on the fell, and never
a plaint falls from her lips, nor does her bosom ever rise or fall in
sighs. So wears the bloomy night, but at dawn she is snatched into the
cavern by the pitiless monster.
Scarce had a hundred suns lit up the world before the maiden’s lover
returned merrily from his journey. But no sweet bride hastened to meet
him. He asked where the fair one tarried, but no one could give him
answer. He sought her everywhere by day and night, untiringly, but in
vain; the maid had fled like the morning dew, leaving no trace. And at
last hope left him; he forgot the joy of life, and walked yet a while
on earth, a dumb shadow. Until one flaming morning the light of his
eyes was dimmed in the night of death.
But the maiden lived through years of terrible length, the days in the
monster’s cavern, ceaselessly cleaning and piling up treasures under
her cruel warder’s eyes, the nights on the fell. Nor dare she raise
her forehead to the heavens, but to the church tower on the forest’s
distant rim her eyes are ever strained. She makes no plaint, nor does
her bosom ever rise or fall in sighs.
It is a light summer night. The maiden stands again on the fell,
thinking of the time she has passed in cruel imprisonment; and a
hundred years have gone by since she parted from her friend. Horror
seizes her, her mind swoons and cold beads of sweat drop from her brow
to the mossy ground as she pictures the length of those years. Then for
the first time she dared to look up at the sky, and presently she saw
a wondrous light approaching her like a star out of eternal distance.
And the nearer this light came the more it altered in shape. And it
was no shooting star, but the transfigured youth, a gleaming sword in
his hand. His face seemed deliciously familiar, and the maiden’s heart
beat quicker, for now she recognized her former bridegroom. But why the
sword? It filled the maid with dread, and in a faint voice she uttered:
‘Is this the sword that ends at last my pain? Here is my breast, young
hero, strike with thy gleaming sword and if thou canst, then grant me
death, for which I have thirsted so long.’ Thus she spoke on the fell;
but the youth brought her, not death, but the divine breath of life,
which moved already round her like a perfumed morning wind. With loving
glance he folded her in his arms, kissed her, and soon the bloodless
maiden felt a thin stream of blood rush like the fairest torrent
through her veins; her cheek glowed like a cloud at dawn and joy shone
from her white forehead. Casting her curly head on her bridegroom’s
arm she looked up into the sunlit heights, purging her breast of a
century’s pain in a sigh; and the youth’s fingers strayed in her curls,
which fluttered prettily in the wind. Blissful was the hour of rescue
and the morn of her day of deliverance. Birds warbled in the spruce
on the sides of the mighty fell, and in the northeast rose the sun’s
glowing edge. Like to that other morning when the friends had parted on
the green sward was this morn.
But now the fierce monster, his bristles wrathfully erect, clambered
up the fell to drag the maiden down to his pit. But hardly had he
stretched his claws towards her, when the youth’s sword, swift as
lightning, pierced his breast; and the black blood spouted on the
fell. The maiden turned away her head at the sight and pressed her
brow to the youth’s breast as the monster, with a fearful cry, gave
up his life and rolled off the fell. Thus was the world delivered from
a terrible scourge. But in the bright embrace of a silver cloud the
youth and maiden were wafted into the sky. On her bridegroom’s knees
the bride rested, and pressing her brow to his bosom, smiled happily.
Through space they flew, and deep in the giddy depths the forests,
fells and winding valleys were left behind. Until at last all faded
from their sight as in a cloud of blue smoke.
Such was the tale of the Pale Maiden told by Aapo to his brothers on
that sleepless night in the turf-roofed hut on Impivaara clearing.
JUHANI. Here’s Timo waking just as our tale ends.
TIMO. Why don’t you sleep in peace, boys?
JUHANI. Here’s been a mighty telling of tales. Ay, that was
the tale of the former maiden and the monster.
SIMEONI. But they say this awful monster still lives. Hunters
have seen him; he has only one eye that shines in the dark like a
glowing cinder.
JUHANI. What was it happened a few years ago to old man
Kuokkala, now sleeping in the Lord? One spring, while he was out at
the capercaillies’ matingtime and awaited the passing of midnight by
his camp-fire on this clearing, he saw over there at the foot of the
fell that same glow and heard a voice that kept on asking endlessly;
‘Shall--a--chuck--it, shall--a--chuck--it?’ It asked that many thousand
times over, until the old man, one of the old sort whose heart didn’t
start beating for any little thing, got mad at last and answered in a
fierce voice: ‘Chuck it then, thou Devil’s food!’
TIMO. But ah! no more was needed.
JUHANI. Ay, tell us, Timo, what happened.
TIMO. Well, in a minute a grinning skeleton comes crashing
on to the old man’s fire as though thrown by ten men and puts out the
blaze to the very last spark. But at that the old man snatched up his
rifle and toddled off out of sight of the whole fell, although, as
Juhani here said, he was one of the old sort whose heart didn’t start
beating for every little thing.
SIMEONI. We have come therefore to a town of trolls and devils.
AAPO. Here we have come and here we shall stay without fear.
Even if he were still alive, the monster is now very weak, that is
shown by his behaviour towards old man Kukkala. All he could do in his
spite was to put out the fire, even that only when the man gave him
leave. His power was broken for ever by the young man’s sword.
JUHANI. I can’t help feeling pity though for the maiden in the
bowels of the earth, a girl with that accursed bristle-neck.
SIMEONI. Why didn’t she stand firm against temptation?
JUHANI. Ay, my son, don’t say that! How would it be, for
instance, if in some flowery vale of peace a king’s daughter were to
meet thee, fair as a rose and flower, trip towards thee in silks,
ribbons and the smell of pomades, in glittering golden frippery like a
peacock, ay, a wench like that met thee and wanted to cuddle and kiss
thee, how would it be with thy miserable heart? I ask thee, Simeoni?
SIMEONI. I’d pray for strength in belief.
JUHANI. Hm.
TIMO. I wouldn’t let her come cuddling me and still less
lip-smacking. Keep away from me, I’d say, keep, thou jade, at a
distance, or I’ll fetch a stick from yonder thicket and lay on until
thy back is mottled tomorrow worse than a lady-bird’s wing. That’s what
I’d do without any mercy. I’d show her.
JUHANI. Oh little brother! I believe thou wouldst talk
differently if thou hadst looked around thee a little more in this
world, if thou hadst been, for instance, in Turku Town. Thats’ what
I’ve done when I drove the bulls there from Viertola Manor. I saw
more than one thing to wonder at there, saw how pomp and glitter can
turn the heads of sons of men. Ah thee, ah rowdy village, ah worldly
life indeed! There rattles a carriage, here another, and in them sit
the most fly-away fools with whiskery faces, and girls like porcelain
dolls, spreading far around them a thick scent of costly oils and
ointments. But look yonder! Help and save me! there, all in gilded
feathers, minces a real jewel of a madam or miss, whatever she be. See
her neck! White as curdled milk, cheeks red as the plague, and the eyes
in her head burn like to bonfires in daylight as a true rapscallion of
a lad sails up to her in a hat, shiny black tails, and peeps ... well,
may the Devil himself take thee!--peeps at her through a square bit of
glass that gleams in the rascal’s left eye. But now ... by the Seven
Smiths!--now they bob and bow on both sides, and see the woman purse up
her mouth to a real strawberry of a mouth and twitter like a swallow on
a sunlit roof, and the nob before her wag his hand and his tail, wave
his hat and scrape his foot till the paving strikes sparks, ah, that
was a game for you. Oh jays that ye are, thinks I to myself, a bit of
a boy, standing there at the street corner, a bunch of raw hides on my
shoulder and staring mouth agape at this billing.
TUOMAS. Gentlefolk are fools.
TIMO. And childish as milk-chinned brats. So they eat, too,
with rags over their chests and without--dog take me--knowing enough
to lick their spoons clean when they rise from table; that I have seen
with my own eyes to my great surprise.
SIMEONI. But at tricking and cheating a farmer they are man
enough.
JUHANI. True that among gentlefolk there is much that is
womanish and silly, that I saw on my trip to Turku. But look you, when
a simpering wench like that, in real scented oils and flying laces,
comes near, it’s not to say that the heart of a son of man doesn’t
begin to flutter. Ay, boys, the lusts of this world tempt strongly,
that I noticed on my trip to Turku. And I say once again, that my
heart bleeds for the maiden on yonder fell. It was time for her to
be saved from Hell and to sail with her friend to a haven of peace,
to which may God help us also in His time. In this hope let’s try to
sleep now. There’s still another marvellous tale about this fell,
but it can keep for the present and let’s all try to sleep. Go thou,
however, Simeoni, and cover the glowing cinders with ashes, so that I
needn’t sit tinkling my fire-irons and waving a bunch of hay tomorrow,
but can begin at once hammering at the end of a log like a red-crested
woodpecker. Go now.
Simeoni went out to do Juhani’s bidding, but came quickly back with
hair erect and eyes starting out of his head. Stutteringly he uttered
something about a strange burning eye out there near the cart. At
that the others too were startled, and with a blessing on their souls
and bodies went out of the hut in a body; and their hair resembled a
wind-gathered tangle in the crown of a birch. Moveless, dumb as statues
they stood, staring in the direction shown by Simeoni’s pointing
finger. Without blinking they stared and saw beyond mistake a mystic
gleam near the cart, which sometimes disappeared, but soon showed
itself again. They might have deemed it the lone eye of their horse
Valko, only no whiteness loomed around it, but rather something black,
and there was no sound of the bell. Pondering thus, the brothers stood
without moving; but at last Tuomas said in a fairly masterful voice:
TUOMAS. What is lacking?
JUHANI. For God’s sake don’t talk so high and mighty with him.
It’s him! What shall we do now, brothers? It’s him! What shall we say
to him?
AAPO. I surely don’t know.
TIMO. Now a verse of a hymn would do good.
JUHANI. Doesn’t one of us know a single prayer by heart?
Pray, dear brothers, out with something in God’s name, whatever comes
into your heads, without any bothering about suiting the text to the
occasion. Say the Home Baptism Service, brothers dear, if you know
nothing else.
TIMO. I’ve known one and another stretch of the hymnbook in my
time, but now it’s as though a fearful prop were holding up the door of
my brain.
SIMEONI. The spirit won’t allow thee to speak, any more than
he will me.
TIMO. Ay, he won’t allow me.
JUHANI. This is terrible!
AAPO. Terrible!
TIMO. Truly terrible!
JUHANI. What can we do?
TUOMAS. A firm behaviour towards him is best, I believe. Let
us ask him who he is and what he wants.
JUHANI. Let me ask him. Who art thou? Who art thou? Who art
thou and what dost want of us?--Not a word in answer.
LAURI. Lay hold of embers.
JUHANI. We’ll lay hold of embers from the fire and baste thee
to a turn unless thou sayest thy name, thy family and thy errand.
LAURI. No, I meant let’s grab the embers at once.
JUHANI. If we dared.
TUOMAS. One death we owe to the Lord.
JUHANI. Ay, we owe the Lord one death! Embers in fist, boys!
Soon they stood in a row, burning brands for weapons in their hands.
Foremost stood Juhani, his eyes round as an owl’s, staring at the eye
behind the cart, which with a fine glow stared back at him. So stood
the brothers with their fiery weapons on the nightly clearing; and a
lapwing cried from the mountain spruce, the dismal wilds below them
breathed heavily, and dark clouds covered the arch of the sky.
JUHANI. When I say ‘Now boys!’ let the brands rain from our
fists on to the devil’s neck.
SIMEONI. Let us try again if we can lay it first.
JUHANI. Well thought! Let’s try a little laying first. But
what shall I say to him? Whisper thou to me, Simeoni, for I myself am
oddly stupid just now. But whisper the words to me and I’ll cast them
in his face until the forest echoes.
SIMEONI. Note than what I say. Here we stand.
JUHANI. Here we stand!
SIMEONI. Like heroes of the Faith, with flaming swords in our
hands.
JUHANI. Like heroes of the Faith, with flaming swords in our
hands!
SIMEONI. Go thy way.
JUHANI. Go to thy Hell!
SIMEONI. We are baptized Christians, warriors of the Lord.
JUHANI. We are baptized Christians, warriors of the Lord,
Christ’s soldiers!
SIMEONI. Even though we cannot read.
JUHANI. Even though we cannot read.
SIMEONI. But believe notwithstanding.
JUHANI. But believe notwithstanding and trust firmly in it.
SIMEONI. Go now.
JUHANI. Go now!
SIMEONI. Soon the cock croweth.
JUHANI. Soon the cock croweth!
SIMEONI. Proclaiming the light of the Lord.
JUHANI. Proclaiming the light of the Lord Zebaoth!
SIMEONI. But he doesn’t seem to take any notice.
JUHANI. But he doesn’t seem to.... Ay, he doesn’t care though
I bawl at him with the tongue of angels. May the Lord bless us, boys,
for there’s nothing left but to--Now, boys!
At that each threw his burning brand at the apparition, which, with
the speed of lightning, began running away with a thunder of four
hoofs, and the glowing cinders on its back flashed for long as it cleft
the darkness. It fled thus from the fiery skirmish, and reaching the
clearing’s edge, dared at last to stop, blowing once or twice noisily.
And the brothers’ ghost, the awe-inspiring monster, proved after all to
be their one-eyed horse, which had lost for the time its whitish colour
in the black mudpools of the morass, into which it had probably strayed
and there splashed despairingly before regaining dry land. There, too,
in its struggles it had loosened the bell from its neck, a matter which
had greatly assisted to bewilder the brothers. This was the eye that
had gleamed in the darkness behind the cart, as many an animal’s eye
can glow in the dark. But only after a moment or two had passed, and
even then with caution, did the brothers dare to approach Valko and
finally establish their error. They returned with wrathful faces to
their hut, and at last as the night paled each lay in untroubled sleep.