is the home of another of my brothers."
And here the Princess rested for the night in a very fine bedroom
indeed, all hung with silken curtains; and the Lord and Lady of the
Castle did everything to please her and make her comfortable.
And in the morning, before she left, they presented her with the largest
pear that she had ever seen, and warned her that she must not break it
until she was in the direst strait that she had ever been in, and then,
if she broke it, it would bring her out of it.
The third day was the same as the other two had been. The Princess and
the Black Bull of Norroway rode many a weary mile, and at sundown they
came to another Castle, more splendid by far than the other two.
This Castle belonged to the Black Bull's youngest brother, and here the
Princess abode all night; while the Bull, as usual, lay outside in the
park. And this time, when they departed, the Princess received a most
lovely plum, with the warning not to break it till she was in the
greatest strait that mortal could be in. Then she was to break it, and
it would set her free.
On the fourth day, however, things were changed. For there was no fine
Castle waiting for them at the end of their journey; on the contrary, as
the shadows began to lengthen, they came to a dark, deep glen, which was
so gloomy and so awesome-looking that the poor Princess felt her courage
sinking as they approached it.
At the entrance the Black Bull stopped. "Light down here, Lady," he
said, "for in this glen a deadly conflict awaits me, which I must face
unaided and alone. For the dark and gloomy region that lies before us is
the abode of a great Spirit of Darkness, who worketh much ill in the
world. I would fain fight with him and overcome him; and, by my troth,
I have good hope that I shall do so. As for thee, thou must seat thyself
on this stone, and stir neither hand, nor foot, nor tongue till I
return. For, if thou but so much as move, then the Evil Spirit of the
Glen will have thee in his power."
"But how shall I know what is happening to thee?" asked the Princess
anxiously, for she was beginning to grow quite fond of the huge black
creature that had carried her so gallantly these last four days, "if I
have neither to move hand nor foot, nor yet to speak."
"Thou wilt know by the signs around thee," answered the Bull. "For if
everything about thee turn blue, then thou wilt know that I have
vanquished the Evil Spirit; but if everything about thee turn red, then
the Evil Spirit hath vanquished me."
With these words he departed, and was soon lost to sight in the dark
recesses of the glen, leaving the little Princess sitting motionless on
her stone, afraid to move so much as her little finger, in case some
unknown evil fell upon her.
At last, when she had sat there for well-nigh an hour, a curious change
began to pass over the landscape. First it turned grey, and then it
turned a deep azure blue, as if the sky had descended on the earth.
"The Bull hath conquered," thought the Princess. "Oh! what a noble
animal he is!" And in her relief and delight she moved her position and
crossed one leg over the other.
Oh, woe-a-day! In a moment a mystic spell fell upon her, which caused
her to become invisible to the eyes of the Prince of Norroway, who,
having vanquished the Evil Spirit, was loosed from the spell which had
lain over him, and had transformed him into the likeness of a great
Black Bull, and who returned in haste down the glen to present himself,
in his rightful form, to the maiden whom he loved, and whom he hoped to
win for his bride.
Long, long he sought, but he could not find her, while all the time she
was sitting patiently waiting on the stone; but the spell was on her
eyes also, and hindered her seeing him, as it hindered him seeing her.
So she sat on and on, till at last she became so wearied, and lonely,
and frightened, that she burst out crying, and cried herself to sleep;
and when she woke in the morning she felt that it was no use sitting
there any longer, so she rose and took her way, hardly knowing whither
she was going.
And she went, and she went, till at last she came to a great hill made
all of glass, which blocked her way and prevented her going any further.
She tried time after time to climb it, but it was all of no avail, for
the surface of the hill was so slippery that she only managed to climb
up a few feet, to slide down again the next moment.
So she began to walk round the bottom of the hill, in the hope of
finding some path that would lead her over it, but the hill was so big,
and she was so tired, that it seemed almost a hopeless quest, and her
spirit died completely within her. And as she went slowly along, sobbing
with despair, she felt that if help did not come soon she must lie down
and die.
About mid-day, however, she came to a little cottage, and beside the
cottage there was a smithy, where an old smith was working at his anvil.
She entered, and asked him if he could tell her of any path that would
lead her over the mountain. The old man laid down his hammer and looked
at her, slowly shaking his head as he did so.
"Na, na, lassie," he said, "there is no easy road over the Mountain of
Glass. Folk maun either walk round it, which is not an easy thing to do,
for the foot of it stretches out for hundreds of miles, and the folk who
try to do so are almost sure to lose their way; or they maun walk over
the top of it, and that can only be done by those who are shod with iron
shoon."
"And how am I to get these iron shoon?" cried the Princess eagerly.
"Couldst thou fashion me a pair, good man? I would gladly pay thee for
them." Then she stopped suddenly, for she remembered that she had no
money.
"These shoon cannot be made for siller," said the old man solemnly.
"They can only be earned by service. I alone can make them, and I make
them for those who are willing to serve me."
"And how long must I serve thee ere thou makest them for me?" asked the
Princess faintly.
"Seven years," replied the old man, "for they be magic shoon, and that
is the magic number."
So, as there seemed nothing else for it, the Princess hired herself to
the smith for seven long years: to clean his house, and cook his food,
and make and mend his clothes.
At the end of that time he fashioned her a pair of iron shoon, with
which she climbed the Mountain of Glass with as much ease as if it had
been covered with fresh green turf.
When she had reached the summit, and descended to the other side, the
first house that she came to was the house of an old washerwoman, who
lived there with her only daughter. And as the Princess was now very
tired, she went up to the door, and knocked, and asked if she might be
allowed to rest there for the night.
The washerwoman, who was old and ugly, with a sly and evil face, said
that she might--on one condition--and that was that she should try to
wash a white mantle that the Black Knight of Norroway had brought to her
to wash, as he had got it stained in a deadly fight.
"Yestreen I spent the lee-long day washing it," went on the old Dame,
"and I might as well have let it lie on the table. For at night, when I
took it out of the wash-tub, the stains were there as dark as ever.
Peradventure, maiden, if thou wouldst try thy hand upon it thou mightest
be more successful. For I am loth to disappoint the Black Knight of
Norroway, who is an exceeding great and powerful Prince."
"Is he in any way connected with the Black Bull of Norroway?" asked the
Princess; for at the name her heart had leaped for joy, for it seemed
that mayhap she was going to find once more him whom she had lost.
The old woman looked at her suspiciously. "The two are one," she
answered; "for the Black Knight chanced to have a spell thrown over him,
which turned him into a Black Bull, and which could not be lifted until
he had fought with, and overcome, a mighty Spirit of Evil that lived in
a dark glen. He fought with the Spirit, and overcame it and once more
regained his true form; but 'tis said that his mind is somewhat clouded
at times, for he speaketh ever of a maiden whom he would fain have
wedded, and whom he hath lost. Though who, or what she was, no living
person kens. But this story can have no interest to a stranger like
thee," she added slowly, as if she were sorry for having said so much.
"I have no more time to waste in talking. But if thou wilt try and wash
the mantle, thou art welcome to a night's lodging; and if not, I must
ask thee to go on thy way."
Needless to say, the Princess said that she would try to wash the
mantle; and it seemed as if her fingers had some magic power in them,
for as soon as she put it into water the stains vanished, and it became
as white and clean as when it was new.
Of course, the old woman was delighted, but she was very suspicious
also, for it appeared to her that there must be some mysterious link
between the maiden and the Knight, if his mantle became clean so easily
when she washed it, when it had remained soiled and stained in spite of
all the labour which she and her daughter had bestowed upon it.
So, as she knew that the young Gallant intended returning for it that
very night, and as she wanted her daughter to get the credit of washing
it, she advised the Princess to go to bed early, in order to get a good
night's rest after all her labours. And the Princess followed her
advice, and thus it came about that she was sound asleep, safely hidden
in the big box-bed in the corner, when the Black Knight of Norroway came
to the cottage to claim his white mantle.
Now you must know that the young man had carried about this mantle with
him for the last seven years--ever since his encounter with the Evil
Spirit of the Glen--always trying to find someone who could wash it for
him, and never succeeding.
For it had been revealed to him by a wise woman that she who could make
it white and clean was destined to be his wife--be she bonnie or ugly,
old or young. And that, moreover, she would prove a loving, a faithful,
and a true helpmeet.
So when he came to the washerwoman's cottage, and received back his
mantle white as the driven snow, and heard that it was the washerwoman's
daughter who had wrought this wondrous change, he said at once that he
would marry her, and that the very next day.
When the Princess awoke in the morning and heard all that had befallen,
and how the Black Knight had come to the cottage while she was asleep,
and had received his mantle, and had promised to marry the washerwoman's
daughter that very day, her heart was like to break. For now she felt
that she never would have the chance of speaking to him and telling him
who she really was.
And in her sore distress she suddenly remembered the beautiful fruit
which she had received on her journey seven long years before, and which
she had carried with her ever since.
"Surely I will never be in a sorer strait than I am now," she said to
herself; and she drew out the apple and broke it. And, lo and behold! it
was filled with the most beautiful precious stones that she had ever
seen; and at the sight of them a plan came suddenly into her head.
She took the precious stones out of the apple, and, putting them into a
corner of her kerchief, carried them to the washerwoman.
"See," said she, "I am richer than mayhap thou thoughtest I was. And if
thou wilt, all these riches may be thine."
"And how could that come about?" asked the old woman eagerly, for she
had never seen so many precious stones in her life before, and she had a
great desire to become the possessor of them.
"Only put off thy daughter's wedding for one day," replied the Princess.
"And let me watch beside the Black Knight as he sleeps this night, for I
have long had a great desire to see him."
To her astonishment the washerwoman agreed to this request; for the wily
old woman was very anxious to get the jewels, which would make her rich
for life, and it did not seem to her that there was any harm in the
Princess's request; for she had made up her mind that she would give the
Black Knight a sleeping-draught, which would effectually prevent him as
much as speaking to this strange maiden.
So she took the jewels and locked them up in her kist, and the wedding
was put off, and that night the little Princess slipped into the Black
Knight's apartment when he was asleep, and watched all through the long
hours by his bedside, singing this song to him in the hope that he would
awake and hear it:
"Seven lang years I served for thee,
The glassy hill I clamb for thee.
The mantle white I washed for thee,
And wilt thou no waken, and turn to me?"
But although she sang it over and over again, as if her heart would
burst, he neither listened nor stirred, for the old washerwoman's potion
had made sure of that.
Next morning, in her great trouble, the little Princess broke open the
pear, hoping that its contents would help her better than the contents
of the apple had done. But in it she found just what she had found
before--a heap of precious stones; only they were richer and more
valuable than the others had been.
So, as it seemed the only thing to do, she carried them to the old
woman, and bribed her to put the wedding off for yet another day, and
allow her to watch that night also by the Black Prince's bedside.
And the washerwoman did so; "for," said she, as she locked away the
stones, "I shall soon grow quite rich at this rate."
But, alas! it was all in vain that the Princess spent the long hours
singing with all her might:
"Seven lang years I served for thee,
The glassy hill I clamb for thee,
The mantle white I washed for thee,
And wilt thou no waken, and turn to me?"
for the young Prince whom she watched so tenderly, remained deaf and
motionless as a stone.
By the morning she had almost lost hope, for there was only the plum
remaining now, and if that failed her last chance had gone. With
trembling fingers she broke it open, and found inside another
collection of precious stones, richer and rarer than all the others.
She ran with these to the washerwoman, and, throwing them into her lap,
told her she could keep them all and welcome if she would put off the
wedding once again, and let her watch by the Prince for one more night.
And, greatly wondering, the old woman consented.
Now it chanced that the Black Knight, tired with waiting for his
wedding, went out hunting that day with all his attendants behind him.
And as the servants rode they talked together about something that had
puzzled them sorely these two nights gone by. At last an old huntsman
rode up to the Knight, with a question upon his lips.
"Master," he said, "we would fain ken who the sweet singer is who
singeth through the night in thy chamber?"
"Singer!" he repeated. "There is no singer. My chamber hath been as quiet
as the grave, and I have slept a dreamless sleep ever since I came to
live at the cottage."
The old huntsman shook his head. "Taste not the old wife's draught this
night, Master," he said earnestly; "then wilt thou hear what other ears
have heard."
At other times the Black Knight would have laughed at his words, but
to-day the man spoke with such earnestness that he could not but listen
to them. So that evening, when the washerwoman, as was her wont, brought
his sleeping-draught of spiced ale to his bedside, he told her that it
was not sweet enough for his liking. And when she turned and went to the
kitchen to fetch some honey to sweeten it, he jumped out of bed and
poured it all out of the window, and when she came back he pretended
that he had drunk it.
So it came to pass that he lay awake that night and heard the Princess
enter his room, and listened to her plaintive little song, sung in a
voice that was full of sobs:
"Seven lang years I served for thee,
The glassy hill I clamb for thee,
The mantle white I washed for thee,
And wilt thou no waken, and turn to me?"
And when he heard it, he understood it all; and he sprang up and took
her in his arms and kissed her, and asked her to tell him the whole
story.
And when he heard it, he was so angry with the old washerwoman and her
deceitful daughter that he ordered them to leave the country at once;
and he married the little Princess, and they lived happily all their
days.
[Illustration]
THE WEE BANNOCK
"Some tell about their sweethearts,
How they tirled them to the winnock,
But I'll tell you a bonnie tale
About a guid oatmeal bannock."
There was once an old man and his wife, who lived in a dear little
cottage by the side of a burn. They were a very canty and contented
couple, for they had enough to live on, and enough to do. Indeed, they
considered themselves quite rich, for, besides their cottage and their
garden, they possessed two sleek cows, five hens and a cock, an old cat,
and two kittens.
The old man spent his time looking after the cows, and the hens, and the
garden; while the old woman kept herself busy spinning.
One day, just after breakfast, the old woman thought that she would like
an oatmeal bannock for her supper that evening, so she took down her
bakeboard, and put on her girdle, and baked a couple of fine cakes, and
when they were ready she put them down before the fire to harden.
While they were toasting, her husband came in from the byre, and sat
down to take a rest in his great arm-chair. Presently his eyes fell on
the bannocks, and, as they looked very good, he broke one through the
middle and began to eat it.
When the other bannock saw this it determined that it should not have
the same fate, so it ran across the kitchen and out of the door as fast
as it could. And when the old woman saw it disappearing, she ran after
it as fast as her legs would carry her, holding her spindle in one hand
and her distaff in the other.
But she was old, and the bannock was young, and it ran faster than she
did, and escaped over the hill behind the house. It ran, and it ran, and
it ran, until it came to a large newly thatched cottage, and, as the
door was open, it took refuge inside, and ran right across the floor to
a blazing fire, which was burning in the first room that it came to.
Now, it chanced that this house belonged to a tailor, and he and his two
apprentices were sitting cross-legged on the top of a big table by the
window, sewing away with all their might, while the tailor's wife was
sitting beside the fire carding lint.
When the wee bannock came trundling across the floor, all three tailors
got such a fright that they jumped down from the table and hid behind
the Master Tailor's wife.
"Hoot," she said, "what a set of cowards ye be! 'Tis but a nice wee
bannock. Get hold of it and divide it between you, and I'll fetch you
all a drink of milk."
So she jumped up with her lint and her lint cards, and the tailor jumped
up with his great shears, and one apprentice grasped the line measure,
while another took up the saucer full of pins; and they all tried to
catch the wee bannock. But it dodged them round and round the fire, and
at last it got safely out of the door and ran down the road, with one of
the apprentices after it, who tried to snip it in two with his shears.
It ran too quickly for him, however, and at last he stopped and went
back to the house, while the wee bannock ran on until it came to a tiny
cottage by the roadside. It trundled in at the door, and there was a
weaver sitting at his loom, with his wife beside him, winding a clue of
yarn.
"What's that, Tibby?" said the weaver, with a start as the little cake
flew past him.
"Oh!" cried she in delight, jumping to her feet, "'tis a wee bannock. I
wonder where it came from?"
"Dinna bother your head about that, Tibby," said her man, "but grip it,
my woman, grip it."
But it was not so easy to get hold of the wee bannock. It was in vain
that the Goodwife threw her clue at it, and that the Goodman tried to
chase it into a corner and knock it down with his shuttle. It dodged,
and turned, and twisted, like a thing bewitched, till at last it flew
out at the door again, and vanished down the hill, "for all the world,"
as the old woman said, "like a new tarred sheep, or a daft cow."
In the next house that it came to it found the Goodwife in the kitchen,
kirning. She had just filled her kirn, and there was still some cream
standing in the bottom of her cream jar.
"Come away, little bannock," she cried when she saw it. "Thou art come
in just the nick of time, for I am beginning to feel hungry, and I'll
have cakes and cream for my dinner."
But the wee bannock hopped round to the other side of the kirn, and the
Goodwife after it. And she was in such a hurry that she nearly upset the
kirn; and by the time that she had put it right again, the wee bannock
was out at the door and half-way down the brae to the mill.
The miller was sifting meal in the trough, but he straightened himself
up when he saw the little cake.
"It's a sign of plenty when bannocks are running about with no one to
look after them," he said; "but I like bannocks and cheese, so just come
in, and I will give thee a night's lodging."
But the little bannock had no wish to be eaten up by the miller, so it
turned and ran out of the mill, and the miller was so busy that he did
not trouble himself to run after it.
After this it ran on, and on, and on, till it came to the smithy, and
it popped in there to see what it could see.
The smith was busy at the anvil making horse-shoe nails, but he looked
up as the wee bannock entered.
"If there be one thing I am fond of, it is a glass of ale and a
well-toasted cake," he cried. "So come inbye here, and welcome to ye."
But as soon as the little bannock heard of the ale, it turned and ran
out of the smithy as fast as it could, and the disappointed smith picked
up his hammer and ran after it. And when he saw that he could not catch
it, he flung his heavy hammer at it, in the hope of knocking it down,
but, luckily for the little cake, he missed his aim.
After this the bannock came to a farmhouse, with a great stack of peats
standing at the back of it. In it went, and ran to the fireside. In this
house the master had all the lint spread out on the floor, and was
cloving[1] it with an iron rod, while the mistress was heckling[2] what
he had already cloven.
"Oh, Janet," cried the Goodman in surprise, "here comes in a little
bannock. It looks rare and good to eat. I'll have one half of it."
"And I'll have the other half," cried the Goodwife. "Hit it over the
back with your cloving-stick, Sandy, and knock it down. Quick, or it
will be out at the door again."
But the bannock played "jook-about," and dodged behind a chair. "Hoot!"
cried Janet contemptuously, for she thought that her husband might
easily have hit it, and she threw her heckle at it.
But the heckle missed it, just as her husband's cloving-rod had done,
for it played "jook-about" again, and flew out of the house.
This time it ran up a burnside till it came to a little cottage standing
among the heather.
Here the Goodwife was making porridge for the supper in a pot over the
fire, and her husband was sitting in a corner plaiting ropes of straw
with which to tie up the cow.
"Oh, Jock! come here, come here," cried the Goodwife. "Thou art aye
crying for a little bannock for thy supper; come here, histie, quick,
and help me to catch it."
"Ay, ay," assented Jock, jumping to his feet and hurrying across the
little room. "But where is it? I cannot see it."
"There, man, there," cried his wife, "under that chair. Run thou to that
side; I will keep to this."
So Jock ran into the dark corner behind the chair; but, in his hurry, he
tripped and fell, and the wee bannock jumped over him and flew laughing
out at the door.
Through the whins and up the hillside it ran, and over the top of the
hill, to a shepherd's cottage on the other side.
The inmates were just sitting down to their porridge, and the Goodwife
was scraping the pan.
"Save us and help us," she exclaimed, stopping with the spoon half-way
to her mouth. "There's a wee bannock come in to warm itself at our
fireside."
"Sneck the door," cried the husband, "and we'll try to catch it. It
would come in handy after the porridge."
But the bannock did not wait until the door was sneckit. It turned and
ran as fast as it could, and the shepherd and his wife and all the
bairns ran after it, with their spoons in their hands, in hopes of
catching it.
And when the shepherd saw that it could run faster than they could, he
threw his bonnet at it, and almost struck it; but it escaped all these
dangers, and soon it came to another house, where the folk were just
going to bed.
The Goodman was half undressed, and the Goodwife was raking the cinders
carefully out of the fire.
"What's that?" said he, "for the bowl of brose that I had at supper-time
wasna' very big."