“If you do not go willingly, you will force me to kill the yarl, and
burn the palace, with all that are in it.”
He looked so fierce and grim as he spoke, that Hildeswid trembled with
fear, and obeyed him without a word.
He took her by the hand and led her down to the court, where a groom
was holding his horse in readiness. In the clear light of day, and in
the presence of many watchmen, none of whom dared remonstrate, Samson
placed the princess before him on the saddle, and rode away with her
into the wood and towards his home. When he reached his dwelling the
door was locked, and he knocked so thunderously that the sound was
heard to a great distance. No answer. He knocked again and again. A
hoarse voice at last was heard from within, proclaiming that the door
should not be opened whilst the owner of the house was from home.
“Mother,” cried Samson, “pull back the bolts, for it is I—your son—I
have brought you a princess to be your daughter, and to tend you in
your old age.”
The door opened, creaking and groaning, as though unaccustomed to move
on its hinges, and a thin old woman came out on the threshold, dressed
in rags.
“What?” she cried. “Do you bring guests with you? That woman in her
grand clothes, her maid, and an idle groom. How could you do it, son?
You know how poor we are;” and she looked up at her tall son with a
cunning leer.
“But, mother,” said the warrior, “where is the gold I sent you? Where
are the servants I gave you? And what have you done with the gorgeous
raiment I sent to clothe you?”
“I hid the gold away in my chest,” answered the old woman; “for one
never knows whether one may not become a pauper in one’s old age. I
dismissed the servants you gave me very soon, for I thought they would
have eaten me out of house and home; and as for the clothes, I have
laid them aside to wait for better times.”
“Ah well, mother,” said Samson, “if that sort of thing makes you happy,
you can do as you like with your own; but now open the door and let us
in. We are tired after our long ride, and would fain have a good
dinner.”
They went into the house and sat down. The old woman placed before them
a hunch of rye bread and a jar of water. Samson would have made but a
poor meal, had his groom not brought out a cut of venison and some
wine, with which he had taken care to provide himself before leaving
the palace. After he had stilled his hunger, Samson begged his lady’s
permission to go out and see if he could not find a stag to store the
larder. The groom went down to the cellar, where he was fortunate
enough to find a cask of ale; and the old mother withdrew to her own
apartments, leaving the princess alone with her maid.
The wide hall was dark and eerie, and full of strange flickering
shadows, that grew more mysterious and ghost-like as the evening closed
in, and the owls might be heard hooting in the pine-trees near.
Hildeswid could bear it no longer. She sent her maid to ask the old
woman to come back to the hall; but she did not, nor did the maid
return. The poor child’s terror was so great that she determined to go
in search of her mother-in-law.
She wandered through one empty, dreary, dusty room after another, till
at last she entered a large vaulted chamber, and there she saw the old
woman crouching over a great chest full of gold and precious stones,
muttering to herself. Approaching her, Hildeswid heard her gloating
over her treasures, and saying how much they would be increased when
she added the princess’s ornaments to the number, which could so easily
be done by strangling the girl. Hildeswid uttered a low cry of terror,
and the old woman looked round. Then, with a shriek of “thief, robber,
wretch!” she threw herself upon the unhappy child, and tried to
throttle her; but at that moment Samson came in and stopped her.
“Mother,” he said, “you cannot remain here. I will take you and your
treasure to my other house on the edge of the wood. There you can live
in peace.”
Meanwhile King Rodgeier had discovered that his daughter had been
carried off. He sent out one body of his men-at-arms after another to
fetch her home; but they all failed, and he prepared to go himself.
Riding along towards Samson’s grange, he and his men saw a little house
by the side of a great wood. They entered, and asked the old woman they
met in the house to tell them where Samson lived. She denied that she
had ever heard of such a man; but when the king offered her a handful
of gold, she at once pointed out the path that led to his grange, and
even went a bit of the way to see that they made no mistake.
The king and his fifteen companions had not gone very far when they met
the hero. His helmet and armour were coal black, like his beard and
hair; his steed was also black, but on his shield was emblazoned a lion
on a golden field. There was a sharp, short fight in which Samson came
off conqueror.
When the battle was over, he set out for his mother’s house. On
entering the hall he found her there busily counting the gold the king
had given her.
“Mother,” he said, “for the sake of that gold you betrayed your own
son, and you richly deserve to die; but as you are my mother, I cannot
punish your treachery.”
The old woman went on counting her hoard as calmly as before.
“Mother,” he began again, “you betrayed your son for gold, and you
should die by my dagger; but you are my mother, and I cannot slay you.
Now listen to me: take your gold and leave this place, lest harm befall
you.”