ONCE on a time there was a rich couple who had twelve sons; but the
youngest, when he was grown up, said he wouldn’t stay any longer at
home, but be off into the world to try his luck. His father and mother
said he did very well at home, and had better stay where he was. But no,
he couldn’t rest; away he must and would go. So at last they gave him
leave. And when he had walked a good bit, he came to a king’s palace,
where he asked for a place, and got it.
Now the daughter of the king of that land had been carried off into the
hill by a Troll, and the king had no other children; so he and all his
land were in great grief and sorrow, and the king gave his word that any
one who could set her free, should have the Princess and half the
kingdom. But there was no one who could do it, though many tried.
[Illustration:
DAPPLEGRIM
]
So when the lad had been there a year or so, he longed to go home again
and see his father and mother, and back he went; but when he got home
his father and mother were dead, and his brothers had shared all that
the old people owned between them, and so there was nothing left for the
lad.
“Shan’t I have anything at all, then, out of father’s and mother’s
goods?” said the lad.
“Who could tell you were still alive, when you went gadding and
wandering about so long?” said his brothers. “But all the same; there
are twelve mares up on the hill, which we haven’t yet shared among us;
if you choose to take them for your share, you’re quite welcome.”
Yes! the lad was quite content; so he thanked his brothers, and went at
once up on the hill, where the twelve mares were out at grass. And when
he got up there and found them, each of them had a foal at her side, and
one of them had besides, along with her, a big dapple-gray foal, which
was so sleek that the sun shone from its coat.
“A fine fellow you are, my little foal,” said the lad.
“Yes,” said the foal; “but if you’ll only kill all the other foals, so
that I may run and suck all the mares one year more, you’ll see how big
and sleek I’ll be then.”
Yes! the lad was ready to do that; so he killed all those twelve foals,
and went home again.
So when he came back the next year to look after his foal and mares, the
foal was so fat and sleek, that the sun shone from its coat, and it had
grown so big, the lad had hard work to mount it. As for the mares, they
had each of them another foal.
“Well, it’s quite plain I lost nothing by letting you suck all my twelve
mares,” said the lad to the yearling, “but now you’re big enough to come
along with me.”
“No,” said the colt, “I must bide here a year longer; and now kill all
the twelve foals, that I may suck all the mares this year too, and
you’ll see how big and sleek I’ll be by summer.”
Yes! the lad did that; and next year when he went up on the hill to look
after his colt and the mares, each mare had her foal, but the dapple
colt was so tall the lad couldn’t reach up to his crest when he wanted
to feel how fat he was; and so sleek he was too, that his coat glistened
in the sunshine.
“Big and beautiful you were last year, my colt,” said the lad, “but this
year you’re far grander. There’s no such horse in the king’s stable. But
now you must come along with me.”
“No,” said Dapple again, “I must stay here one year more. Kill the
twelve foals as before, that I may suck the mares the whole year, and
then just come and look at me when the summer comes.”
Yes! the lad did that; he killed the foals, and went away home.
But when he went up next year to look after Dapple and the mares, he was
quite astonished. So tall, and stout, and sturdy, he never thought a
horse could be; for Dapple had to lay down on all fours before the lad
could bestride him, and it was hard work to get up even then, although
he lay flat; and his coat was so smooth and sleek, the sunbeams shone
from it as from a looking-glass.
This time Dapple was willing enough to follow the lad, so he jumped up
on his back and when he came riding home to his brothers, they all
clapped their hands and crossed themselves, for such a horse they had
never heard of nor seen before.
“If you will only get me the best shoes you can for my horse, and the
grandest saddle and bridle that are to be found,” said the lad, “you may
have my twelve mares that graze up on the hill yonder, and their twelve
foals into the bargain.” For you must know that this year too every mare
had her foal.
Yes, his brothers were ready to do that, and so the lad got such strong
shoes under his horse, that the stones flew high aloft as he rode away
across the hills; and he had a golden saddle and a golden bridle, which
gleamed and glistened a long way off.
“Now we’re off to the king’s palace,” said Dapplegrim—that was his name;
“but mind you ask the king for a good stable and good fodder for me.”
Yes! the lad said he would mind; he’d be sure not to forget; and when he
rode off from his brothers’ house, you may be sure it wasn’t long, with
such a horse under him, before he got to the king’s palace.
When he came there the king was standing on the steps, and stared and
stared at the man who came riding along.
“Nay, nay!” said he, “such a man and such a horse I never yet saw in all
my life.”
But when the lad asked if he could get a place in the king’s household,
the king was so glad he was ready to jump and dance as he stood on the
steps.
Well, they said, perhaps he might get a place there.
“Aye,” said the lad, “but I must have good stable-room for my horse, and
fodder that one can trust.”
Yes! he should have meadow-hay and oats, as much as Dapple could cram,
and all the other knights had to lead their horses out of the stable
that Dapplegrim might stand alone, and have it all to himself.
But it wasn’t long before all the others in the king’s household began
to be jealous of the lad, and there was no end to the bad things they
would have done to him, if they had only dared. At last they thought of
telling the king he had said he was man enough to set the king’s
daughter free—whom the Troll had long since carried away into the
hill—if he only chose. The King called the lad before him, and said he
had heard the lad said he was good to do so and so; so now he must go
and do it. If he did it he knew how the king had promised his daughter
and half the kingdom, and that promise would be faithfully kept; if he
didn’t, he should be killed.
The lad kept on saying he never said any such thing; but it was no
good,—the king wouldn’t even listen to him; and so the end of it was, he
was forced to say he’d go and try.
So he went into the stable, down in the mouth and heavy-hearted, and
then Dapplegrim asked him at once why he was in such dumps.