IN WHICH SWEET WILLIAM TELLS ANOTHER STORY
Once upon a time there lived a miller, who because he was a kind-hearted
man and as well off as anyone needs to be, had taken pity upon a poor
little foundling and had given him a home in the mill. On a bitter
winter’s night the child had been laid at his door, and the miller
therefore christened him Jack Frost.
Some years later the miller took a wife, a young woman of a shrewish
disposition and over-fond of money. She was not kind to little Jack
Frost, and made him feel that he was a burden both to her husband and
herself. Times were hard, she said, and he was too slow-witted to be of
any real use about the mill. In the course of time a son was born to the
miller’s wife, and then things went from bad to worse with the
foundling.
Nevertheless Jack Frost felt that he had good friends near at hand, and
these were none other than the Little People. In a field beyond the
mill-race there was a fairy ring, in the centre of which grew a
thorn-tree, and under this thorn-tree Jack Frost would sit by the hour,
thinking and dreaming and talking to himself. More than once it had
seemed to him that the fairy ring had brought him good fortune.
The first occasion was on an evening not long after the birth of the
miller’s son, when Jack Frost had been set to mind the baby, while the
miller’s wife cooked the supper. But being somewhat feather-headed, he
forgot to rock the cradle, so that the baby woke up and began to cry. At
that its mother grew so angry that she boxed the ears of Jack Frost and
thrust him out of doors. But the miller felt sorry for him, and when his
wife was not looking he went up to the table where a savoury dish had
been set for his supper and hers, with a stale crust and a bowl of
skimmed milk for the foundling. These he took, and stealing out of the
mill by a back door gave them to the child, so that at least he might
not have to go supperless to bed. Jack Frost thanked him, and went off
to the field with the fairy ring in it, but no sooner had he sat down
under the thorn-tree to eat his supper, than he discovered that he no
longer held a crust and a bowl of skimmed milk, but a little new loaf
and a bowl of cream.
Again, a few years later, when it was winter-time, the miller’s wife
sent Jack Frost into the neighbouring town to do some errands for her.
It was very cold, and the skies were overcast.
“It is going to snow,” said the miller, as he stood by the window, “you
should not have sent the boy out so late, my dear.”
“A little snow never hurt anybody yet,” replied his wife, and she drew
her shawl closer round her shoulders and poked the fire.
Meanwhile Jack Frost was making his way home from the town, but before
the mill came in sight it began to snow, and soon it was snowing so fast
that he could not see a yard ahead of him. Thicker and thicker fell the
flakes, blotting out hedge and stile and milestone. Jack Frost stumbled
on a little farther, but he was cold and tired, and soon his legs began
to give way under him. Then a great drowsiness overcame him, and he lay
down to rest. As he fell asleep, it seemed to him that he was pillowed
on a bed of down, and that a rich green canopy was spread above him, yet
when he awoke in the morning, warm and well and light at heart, he saw
that he had slept all night upon the snow, and that there was no canopy
overhead save the little stunted thorn-tree.
Now when Jack Frost had grown to be a youth, a great calamity befell the
country. Not long before, the queen had given birth to a son, and
throughout the land there were great festivities to do honour to the
heir. But on Roodmas Eve, when the fairies are abroad, they stole away
the little prince, and put a changeling in his stead, so ugly and
malicious that he soon became the plague and terror of the whole court.
The king at once summoned all his wisest counsellors, and inquired of
them what should be done in such a case, and they all with one accord
assured him that there were but two remedies; either the fairy
changeling must be made to laugh, or to refer in some way to his real
age. Unfortunately, however, the new prince was far too cross-tempered
to laugh under any circumstances, though the court jester and all the
wits of the land did their utmost to amuse him; and though every device
was tried to make him say that he had many and many a time seen the
acorn turn to an oak and the oak to a cradle, the impish creature could
not be induced to say anything of the sort. Then the king issued a
proclamation, promising untold riches as a reward to anyone who should
restore his son, but it was all to no purpose.
At last it came into the mind of the foundling at the mill to test the
good-will which the Little People had to him. “I will set out in search
of the king’s son,” said he, “who can tell but that I may persuade the
fairies to give him up, for surely the People of Peace have shown
themselves my friends?”
“A likely thing indeed,” sneered the miller’s wife, “that you should
succeed where the wisest of the land have failed! I suppose it is the
king’s proclamation which has put this nonsense into your head, but what
would you do with all those riches, even if you had them, I should like
to know? A great stupid loutish fellow like you!”
Jack Frost was not to be discouraged, however. He took a knapsack with
him for his travels, and bidding good-bye to all at the mill, he set
out. But first he thought he would like to go once more to the field
beyond the mill-race, and take a last look at his thorn-tree; and no
sooner had he stepped into the fairy ring, than he saw the fairies
dancing in a circle round him.
“Whither away, Jack Frost?” asked they.
“I go in search of the king’s son,” replied the foundling.
“It is the fairy queen herself who has stolen him away,” said the elves,
“for he was very fair of face.”
“Then I fear she will be loath to give him up,” sighed Jack Frost.
At that one of the elves stepped forward, and said; “Listen to me, Jack
Frost. You have just one chance of success. Not so very long ago our
queen was choosing a christening gift for a poor charcoal-burner’s child
to whom she had promised to stand sponsor; all her choicest treasures
were spread out before her, when suddenly a magpie swooped down and
carried off a certain magic ring to its nest in a belfry. Now this ring
was one of the queen’s most priceless gifts, for it conferred on him who
should possess it the good-will of wind and weather, the friendship of
all the dumb creatures, and the power of making himself beloved wherever
he might love. The queen is much grieved at its loss, and since no fairy
may enter a belfry, none but a mortal can recover it. Now if you should
find this ring, it may be that in her gratitude the queen will consent
to grant your request, to take back the changeling and to restore the
king’s son.”
“How shall I find the belfry?” asked Jack Frost.
“Go by forest and road and sea, and you shall find it,” replied the elf,
“but first, Jack Frost, tell me what it is that you see in our
thorn-tree?”
“I see a nest,” replied Jack Frost, “and in it are seven speckled eggs.”
“Take three of them,” said the elf, “and you will find them useful. A
bird does not build in the fairies’ tree for nothing.”
So Jack Frost took the three speckled eggs, thanked the Little People,
and went his way. He soon came to a dense forest in which he wandered
till nightfall without seeing any trace of a human dwelling. He was
therefore very glad when at last he caught sight of a ruddy glint among
the trees, and came upon a smithy in a clearing of the wood. Now this
smithy belonged to a very wicked hobgoblin, who forged upon his anvil
all the weapons that are wielded in unrighteous wars. Whoever fights in
a wrongful quarrel or in defence of a bad cause, may be quite sure that
his steel was forged at the hobgoblin’s smithy. But Jack Frost did not
know this, and felt very thankful at having come across any kind of
shelter, so approaching the smith he asked him for a night’s lodging.
“You shall have supper and a bed,” replied the hobgoblin, and leading
Jack Frost into his house he gave him some broken victuals, and motioned
him to a bed of straw. The foundling fell to with a good appetite, and
then lay down upon the straw and fell fast asleep. In the morning he
thanked his host for his hospitality, and prepared to continue his
journey.
“Wait a bit,” said the hobgoblin, “you have not yet paid me for your
supper, nor for your bed over-night.”
“Alas,” replied Jack Frost, “I cannot pay you save in thanks, good sir,
for I have no money.”
“I have no need of money,” replied the wicked sprite, “but you must pay
me in service. All who break my bread are bound to serve me for seven
years. Make haste therefore to sweep my room and cook my breakfast.”
And so saying, he went out to his forge. As soon as Jack Frost was left
alone, he took out the three speckled eggs, and broke them one after
another, hoping to find inside either something which he might offer to
the hobgoblin in payment of his debt, or at least some means of escape.
But in this he was disappointed. The first egg contained a pod with
three seeds in it, the second a gossamer lasso, and the third a tiny
packet of eye-salve.
“These things are of but little use to me at present,” reflected the
foundling sadly, and he submitted to his lot with as good a grace as
might be. Seven years long he served the hobgoblin, who made him a hard
master, but when the time had expired allowed him to go on his way
unmolested.
Onwards through the forest went Jack Frost, sad at heart at the loss of
time and the thwarting of his quest, and after some days’ wanderings he
came upon a path which at last led him out of the wood and into open
country. Soon, however, he reached a place where four roads met, and
stood still in some perplexity. Then he bethought him of the pod with
the three seeds, and cast one seed upon each of the three roads before
him. Straightway three young trees shot up, all bearing leaves, while
the tree on the right bore blossoms and fruits as well. He therefore
took the right hand road, and walked along it for some considerable
distance, till at length it sloped down to the sea shore and came to an
end. Now upon the strand Jack Frost caught sight of a beautiful white
horse, with streaming mane, and riderless, pacing to and fro.
“What is your name, fair steed?” asked he, “and who is your master?”
“My name is the wind,” the beautiful white horse made answer, “and I
have no master.”
Then Jack Frost bethought him of the gossamer lasso, and threw it
deftly, and caught the fleet-footed wind.
“Carry me across the water,” said he, “for there is neither boat nor
bridge.”
“Then mount upon my back,” returned the wind, “and lean your head
against my long mane, and shut your eyes, for should you look downwards
you would surely turn giddy.”
So Jack Frost did as the wind bade him, and together they sped away
across the waste of rolling billows that rocked and foamed far below
them. Upon the opposite shore the wind set him down safely, and Jack
Frost put his arms about the neck of the beautiful, swift steed, and
kissed it between the eyes, but even as he did so the wild creature
started away from him, and fled back across the sea.
Then Jack Frost turned and went on his way, glad at heart, for already
he had caught a glimpse of an old ivy-clad belfry among thick-standing
trees. Into the low-browed porch he went, and up the winding stair, till
he found the magpie’s nest, and in among the sticks and straw he saw the
gleam of the magic ring.
“And now it but remains to find the fairy queen,” said Jack Frost to
himself, as he stood again in the open, “yet I know not where she holds
her court.”
Then he bethought him of the tiny packet inside the third egg, and
rubbing some of the eye-salve upon his eyes, he at once became aware of
the fairy queen and her retinue, assembled in a grove close at hand.
Then Jack Frost went and knelt to the queen, and offering her the magic
ring, begged for the king’s son in exchange.
“So, young sir, you would rob me of my bonny page?” said she, with one
fair hand held out for the ring, and the other resting upon the curls of
a beautiful seven-year-old boy at her side. But she smiled very
graciously as she spoke, for she was rejoiced at the recovery of the
ring.
So the changeling returned whence he came, and the little prince was
restored to his parents. As for Jack Frost, the foundling, he sat him
down among the fairies in the grove, and having eaten and drunk in their
midst, was seen of his own kind no more.