"THE BROWN BULL OF NORROWA."
"Delicate, strong, and white,
Hurrah for the magic thread!
The warp and the woof come right."
CHILD WORLD.
They were not to be surprised! Both the children remembered that, and
yet it was a little difficult to avoid being so.
At first all they saw was just another white room, a small one, and with
a curious pointed window in one corner. But when the doors were fully
opened there was more to be seen. In the first place, at the opposite
corner, was a second window exactly like the other, and in front of this
window a spinning-wheel was placed, and before this spinning-wheel sat,
on a white chair, a white-haired lady.
She was spinning busily. She did not look up as the children came in.
She seemed quite absorbed in her work. So the children stood and gazed
at her, and the cats stood quietly in front, the right-hand one before
Hugh, the left-hand one before Jeanne, not seeming, of course, the least
surprised. Whether I should call the white-haired lady an "old" lady or
not, I really do not know. No doubt she was old, as we count old, but
yet, except for her hair, she did not look so. She was very small, and
she was dressed entirely in white, and her hands were the prettiest
little things you ever saw. But as she did not look up, Hugh and Jeanne
could not at first judge of her face. They stood staring at her for some
minutes without speaking. At last, as they were not allowed to be
surprised, and indeed felt afraid of being reproached with bad manners
by the cats if they made any remarks at all, it began, especially for
Jeanne, to grow rather stupid.
She gave Hugh a little tug.
"Won't you speak to her?" she whispered, very, _very_ softly.
Instantly both cats lifted their right paws.
"You see," replied Hugh, looking at Jeanne reproachfully, "they're
getting angry."
On this the cats wheeled right round and looked at the children.
"I don't care," said Jeanne, working herself up. "I don't care. It's
not our fault. They said she was waiting for us, and they made us come
in."
"'_She_ is the cat,' so I've been told," said a soft voice suddenly.
"And 'don't care;' something was once spun about 'don't care,' I think."
Immediately the two cats threw themselves on the ground, apparently in
an agony of grief.
"_She_ the cat," they cried. "Oh, what presumption! And who said 'don't
care'? Oh dear! oh dear! who would have thought of such a thing?"
The lady lifted her head, and looked at the cats and the children. There
was a curious expression on her face, as if she had just awakened. Her
eyes were very soft blue, softer and dreamier than Hugh's, and her
mouth, even while it smiled, had a rather sad look. But the look of her
whole face was very--I can't find a very good word for it. It seemed to
ask you questions, and yet to know more about you than you did yourself.
It was impossible not to keep looking at her once you had begun.
"Hush, cats," were the next words she said. "Don't be silly; it's nearly
as bad as being surprised."
Immediately the cats sat up in their places again, as quiet and
dignified as if they had not been at all put about, and Jeanne glanced
at Hugh as much as to say, "Aren't you glad she has put them down a
little?"
Then the lady looked over the cats to the children.
"It is quite ready," she said; "the threads are all straight."
What could they say? They had not the least idea what she meant, and
they were afraid of asking. Evidently the white lady was of the same
opinion as the cats as to the rudeness of being surprised; very probably
asking questions would be considered still ruder.
Jeanne was the first to pick up courage.
"Madame," she said, "I don't mean to be rude, but I _am_ so thirsty.
It's with flying, I think, for we're not accustomed to it."
"Why did you not say so before?" said the lady. "I can give you anything
you want. It has all been ready a long time. Will you have snow water or
milk?"
"Milk, please," said Jeanne.
The lady looked at the cats.
"Fetch it," she said quietly. The cats trotted off, they opened the door
as before, but left it open this time, and in another moment they
returned, carrying between them a white china tray, on which were two
cups of beautiful rich-looking milk. They handed them to the children,
who each took one and drank it with great satisfaction. Then the cats
took away the cups and tray, and returned and sat down as before.
The lady smiled at the children.
"Now," she said, "are you ready?"
She had been so kind about the milk that Hugh this time took courage.
"We are _very_ sorry," he said, "but we really don't understand what it
is you would like us to do."
"Do?" said the lady. "Why, you have nothing to do but to listen. Isn't
that what you came for? To hear some of the stories I spin?"
The children opened their eyes--with pleasure it is to be supposed
rather than surprise--for the white lady did not seem at all annoyed.
"Oh!" said they, both at once. "Is _that_ what you're spinning?
Stories!"
"Of course," said the lady. "Where did you think they all come
from?--all the stories down there?" She pointed downwards in the
direction of the stair and the great hall. "Why, here I have been
for--no, it would frighten you to tell you how long, by your counting, I
have been up here at my spinning. I spin the round of the clock at this
window, then I turn my wheel--to get the light, you see--and spin the
round again at the other. If you saw the tangle it comes to me in! And
the threads I send down! It is not _often_ such little people as you
come up here themselves, but it does happen sometimes. And there is
plenty ready for you--all ready for the wheel."
"How wonderful!" said Hugh. "And oh!" he exclaimed, "I suppose sometimes
the threads get twisted again when you have to send them down such a
long way, and that's how stories get muddled sometimes."
"Just so," said the white lady. "My story threads need gentle handling,
and sometimes people seize them roughly and tear and soil them, and then
of course they are no longer pretty. But listen now. What will you have?
The first in the wheel is a very, very old fairy story. I span it for
your great-great-grandmothers; shall I spin it again for you?"
"Oh, please," said both children at once.
"Then sit down on the floor and lean your heads against my knees," said
the lady. "Shut your eyes and listen. That is all you have to do. Never
mind the cats, they will be quite quiet."
[Illustration: STORY SPINNING.--p. 141.]
Hugh and Jeanne did as she told them. They leaned their heads, the
smooth black one of the little girl, the fair-haired curly one of the
boy, on the lady's white robe. You can hardly imagine how soft and
pleasant it was to the touch. A half-sleepy feeling came over them; they
shut their eyes and did not feel inclined to open them again. But they
did not really go to sleep; the fairy lady began to work the wheel, and
through the soft whirr came the sound of a voice--whether it was the
voice of the lady or of the wheel they could not tell. And this was the
old, old story the wheel spun for them.
"Listen, children," it began.
"We are listening," said Jeanne, rather testily. "You needn't say that
again."
"Hush, Jeanne," said Hugh; "you'll stop the story if you're not quiet."
"Listen, children," said the voice again. And Jeanne was quite quiet.
"Once on a time--a very long time ago--in a beautiful castle there lived
a beautiful Princess. She was young and sweet and very fair to see. And
she was the only child of her parents, who thought nothing too rare or
too good for her. At her birth all the fairies had given her valuable
gifts--no evil wishes had been breathed over her cradle. Only the fairy
who had endowed her with good sense and ready wit had dropped certain
words, which had left some anxiety in the minds of her parents.
"'She will need my gifts,' the fairy had said. 'If she uses them well,
they and these golden balls will stand her in good need.
"And as she kissed the baby she left by her pillow three lovely golden
balls, at which, as soon as the little creature saw them, she smiled
with pleasure, and held out her tiny hands to catch them.
"They were of course balls of fairy make--they were small enough for the
little Princess at first to hold in her baby hands, but as she grew they
grew, till, when she had reached her sixteenth year, they were the size
of an orange. They were golden, but yet neither hard nor heavy, and
nothing had power to dint or stain them. And all through her babyhood
and childhood, and on into her girlhood, they were the Princess's
favourite toy. They were never away from her, and by the time she had
grown to be a tall and beautiful girl, with constant practice she had
learnt to catch them as cleverly as an Indian juggler. She could whiz
them all three in the air at a time, and never let one drop to the
ground. And all the people about grew used to seeing their pretty
Princess, as she wandered through the gardens and woods near the castle,
throwing her balls in the air as she walked, and catching them again
without the slightest effort.
"And remembering the words of the fairy who had given them, naturally
her father and mother were pleased to see her love for the magic gift,
and every one about the palace was forbidden to laugh at her, or to say
that it was babyish for a tall Princess to play so much with a toy that
had amused her as an infant.
"She was not a silly Princess at all. She was clever at learning, and
liked it, and she was sensible and quick-witted and very brave. So no
one was inclined to laugh at her pretty play, even if they had not been
forbidden to do so. And she was so kind-hearted and merry, that if ever
in her rambles she met any little children who stared at her balls with
wondering eyes, she would make her ladies stop, while she threw the
balls up in the air, higher and yet higher, ever catching them again as
they flew back, and laughed with pleasure to see the little creatures'
delight in her skill.
"She was such a happy Princess that the bright balls seemed like
herself--ready to catch every ray of sunshine and make it prisoner. And
till she had reached her sixteenth year no cloud had come over her
brightness. About this time she noticed that the king, her father, began
to look anxious and grave, and messengers often came in haste to see him
from far-off parts of his kingdom. And once or twice she overheard words
dropped which she could not understand, except that it was evident some
misfortune was at hand. But in their desire to save their daughter all
sorrow, the king and queen had given orders that the trouble which had
come to the country was not to be told her; so the Princess could find
out nothing even by questioning her ladies or her old nurse, who
hitherto had never refused to tell her anything she wanted to know.
"One day when she was walking about the gardens, playing as usual with
her golden balls, she came upon a young girl half hidden among the
shrubs, crying bitterly. The Princess stopped at once to ask her what
was the matter, but the girl only shook her head and went on weeping,
refusing to answer.
"'I dare not tell you, Princess,' she said. 'I dare not. You are good
and kind, and I do not blame you for my misfortunes. If you knew all,
you would pity me.'
"And that was all she would say.
"She was a pretty girl, about the same age and height as the Princess,
and the Princess, after speaking to her, remembered that she had
sometimes seen her before.
"'You are the daughter of the gardener, are you not?' she inquired.
"'Yes,' said the girl. 'My father is the king's gardener. But I have
been away with my grandmother. They only sent for me yesterday to come
home--and--and--oh, I was to have been married next week to a young
shepherd, who has loved me since my childhood!'
"And with this the girl burst into fresh weeping, but not another word
would she say.
"Just then the Princess's governess, who had been a little behind--for
sometimes in playing with her balls the Princess ran on faster--came up
to where the two young girls were talking together. When the governess
saw who the Princess's companion was she seemed uneasy.
"'What has she been saying to you, Princess?' she asked eagerly. 'It is
the gardener's daughter, I see.'
"'Yes,' said the Princess. 'She is the gardener's daughter, and she is
in some great trouble. That is all I know, for she will tell me nothing
but that she was to have been married next week, and then she weeps. I
wish I knew what her sorrow is, for, perhaps, I could be of use to her.
I would give her all my money if it would do her any good,' and the
Princess looked ready to cry herself. But the girl only shook her head.
'No Princess,' she said; 'it would do me no good. It is not your fault;
but oh, it is very hard on me!'
"The governess seemed very frightened and spoke sharply to the girl,
reproving her for annoying the Princess with her distress. The Princess
was surprised, for all her ladies hitherto had, by the king and queen's
desire, encouraged her to be kind and sympathising to those in trouble,
and to do all she could to console them. But as she had also been taught
to be very obedient, she made no remonstrance when her governess desired
her to leave the girl and return to the castle. But all that day the
Princess remained silent and depressed. It was the first time a shadow
had come near her happiness.
"The next morning when she awoke the sun was shining brilliantly. It was
a most lovely spring day. The Princess's happy spirits seemed all to
have returned. She said to herself that she would confide to the queen
her mother her concern about the poor girl that she had seen, and no
doubt the queen would devise some way of helping her. And the thought
made her feel so light-hearted that she told her attendants to fetch her
a beautiful white dress trimmed with silver, which had been made for her
but the day before. To her surprise the maidens looked at each other in
confusion. At last one replied that the queen had not been pleased with
the dress and had sent it away, but that a still more beautiful one
trimmed with gold should be ready by that evening. The Princess was
perplexed; she was not so silly as to care about the dress, but it
seemed to her very strange that her mother should not admire what she
had thought so lovely a robe. But still more surprised was she at a
message which was brought to her, as soon as she was dressed, from the
king and queen, desiring her to remain in her own rooms the whole of
that day without going out, for a reason that should afterwards be
explained to her. She made no objection, as she was submissive and
obedient to her parents' wishes, but she found it strange and sad to
spend that beautiful spring day shut up in her rooms, more especially as
in her favourite boudoir, a turret chamber which overlooked the castle
courtyard, she found the curtains drawn closely, as if it were night,
and was told by her governess that this too was by the king's orders;
the Princess was requested not to look out of the windows. She grew at
this a little impatient.
"'I am willing to obey my parents,' she said, 'but I would fain they
trusted me, for I am no longer a child. Some misfortune is threatening
us, I feel, and it is concealed from me, as if I could be happy or at
rest if sorrow is hanging over my dear parents or the nation.'
"But no explanation was given to her, and all that day she sat in her
darkened chamber playing sadly with her golden balls and thinking deeply
to herself about the mystery. And towards the middle of the day sounds
of excitement reached her from the courtyard beneath. There seemed a
running to and fro, a noise of horses and of heavy feet, and now and
then faint sounds of weeping.
"'Goes the king a hunting to-day?' she asked her ladies. 'And whose
weeping is it I hear?'
"But the ladies only shook their heads without speaking.
"By the evening all seemed quiet. The Princess was desired to join her
parents as usual, and the white and golden robe was brought to her to
wear. She put it on with pleasure, and said to herself there could after
all be no terrible misfortune at hand, for if so there would not be the
signs of rejoicing she observed as she passed through the palace. And
never had her parents been more tender and loving. They seemed to look
at her as if never before they had known how they treasured her, and the
Princess was so touched by these proofs of their affection that she
could not make up her mind to trouble them by asking questions which
they might not wish to answer.
"The next day everything went on as usual in the palace, and it seemed
to the Princess that there was a general feeling as if some great danger
was safely passed. But this happiness did not last long; about three
days later, again a messenger, dusty and wearied with riding fast and
hard, made his appearance at the castle; and faces grew gloomy, and the
king and queen were evidently overwhelmed with grief. Yet nothing was
told to the Princess.
"She wandered out about the gardens and castle grounds, playing as usual
with her balls, but wondering sadly what meant this mysterious trouble.
And as she was passing the poultry-yard, she heard a sound which seemed
to suit her thoughts--some one was crying sadly. The Princess turned to
see who it was. This time too it was a young girl about her own age, a
girl whom she knew very well by sight, for she was the daughter of the
queen's henwife, and the Princess had often seen her driving the flocks
of turkeys or geese to their fields, or feeding the pretty cocks and
hens which the queen took great pride in.
"'What is the matter, Bruna?' said the Princess, leaning over the gate.
'Have the rats eaten any of the little chickens, or has your mother been
scolding you for breaking some eggs?'
"'Neither, Princess,' said the girl among her sobs. 'The chickens are
never eaten, and my mother seldom scolds me. My trouble is far worse
than that, but I dare not tell it to you--to you of all people in the
world.'
"And the Princess's governess, who just then came up, looked again very
frightened and uneasy.
"'Princess, Princess,' she said, 'what a habit you are getting of
talking to all these foolish girls. Come back to the palace at once with
me.'
"'I have often talked to Bruna before,' said the Princess gently, 'and
I never was blamed for doing so. She is a pretty girl, and I have known
her all my life. Some one said she was betrothed to one of my father's
huntsmen, and I would like to ask if it is true. Perhaps they are too
poor to marry, and it may be for that she is weeping.'
"Bruna heard what the Princess said, and wept still more violently. 'Ah,
yes, it is true!' she said, 'but never, never shall I now be married to
him.'
"But the Princess's governess would not let her wait to ask more. She
hurried her back to the castle, and the Princess--more sure than ever
that some mysterious trouble was in question--could get no explanation.
"She did not see the king and queen that night, and the next morning a
strange thing happened--her white and golden robe was missing. And all
that her attendants could tell her was that it had been taken away by
the queen's orders.
"'Then,' said the Princess, 'there is some sad trouble afloat which is
hidden from me.'
"And when she went to her turret room, and found, as before, that the
windows were all closed, so that she could not see out, she sat down and
cried with distress and anxiety.
"And, again, about mid-day, the same confused noises were to be heard. A
sound of horses and people moving about in the courtyard, a tramping of
heavy feet, and through all a faint and smothered weeping. The Princess
could bear her anxiety no longer. She drew back the curtains, and
unfastened the shutters, and leaned out. From her window she could
clearly see the courtyard. It was, as she suspected, filled with people;
rows of soldiers on horse-back lined the sides, and in front, on the
steps, the king and queen were standing looking at a strange object. It
was an enormous bull: never had the Princess seen such a bull. He was
dark brown in colour, and pawed the ground in front of him impatiently,
and on his back was seated a young girl whom the Princess gazed at with
astonishment. She really thought for a moment it was herself, and that
she was dreaming! For the girl was dressed in the Princess's own white
and golden robe, and her face could not be seen, for it was covered with
a thick veil, and numbers of women and servants standing about were
weeping bitterly. And so, evidently, was the girl herself. Then the
great bull gave another impatient toss, the girl seized his horns to
keep herself from falling, and off he set, with a terrible rush: and a
great shout, half of fear, half of rejoicing, as seeing him go, rose
from the people about.
"Just at this moment the Princess heard some one approaching her room.
She hastily drew the curtains, and sat down playing with her balls, as
if she had seen nothing.
"She said not a word to any one, but she had her own thoughts, and that
evening she was sent for to her father and mother, who, as usual,
received her with caresses and every sign of the tenderest affection.
And several days passed quietly, but still the Princess had her own
thoughts.
"And one evening when she was sitting with her mother, suddenly the king
entered the room in the greatest trouble, and not seeing the Princess,
for it was dusk, he exclaimed,
"'It has failed again. The monster is not to be deceived. He vows he
will not cease his ravages till he gets the real Princess, our beloved
daughter. He has appeared again, and is more infuriated than ever,
tearing up trees by the roots, destroying the people's houses, tramping
over their fields, and half killing all the country with terror. What is
to be done? The people say they can endure it no longer. The girl Bruna
was found bruised and bleeding by the wayside a long way from this, and
she gives the same account as the gardener's daughter of the monster's
rage at finding he had been deceived.'
"The queen had tried to prevent the king's relating all this, but he was
too excited to notice her hints, and, indeed, after the first few words,
the Princess had heard enough. She started from her seat and came
forward. And when he saw her, the king threw up his hands in despair.
But the Princess said quietly, 'Father, you must tell me the whole.'
"So they had to tell her the whole. For many weeks past the terrible
monster she had seen in the courtyard had been filling the country with
fear. He had suddenly appeared at a distant part of the kingdom--having
come, it was said, from a country over the sea named 'Norrowa'--and had
laid it waste, for though he did not actually kill or devour, he tore
down trees, trampled crops, and terrified every one that came in his
way, as the king had said. And when begged to have mercy and to return
to his own country, he roared out with a voice between the voice of a
man and the bellow of a bull, that he would leave them in peace once the
king gave him his daughter in marriage.
"Messenger after messenger had been sent to the palace to entreat for
assistance. Soldiers in numbers had been despatched to seize the monster
and imprison him. But it was no use--he was not to be caught. Nothing
would content him but the promise of the Princess; and as it was of
course plain that he was not a common bull, but a creature endowed with
magical power, the country-people's fear of him was unbounded. They
threatened to rise in revolution unless some means were found of ridding
them of their terrible visitor. Then the king called together the wisest
of his counsellors, and finding force of no avail, they determined to
try cunning. The giving the Princess was not to be thought of, but a
pretty girl about her age and size--the gardener's daughter, the same
whom the Princess had found weeping over her fate--was chosen, dressed
in one of her royal mistress's beautiful robes, and a message sent to
the bull that his request was to be granted. He came. All round, the
castle was protected by soldiers, though they well knew their power
against him was nothing. The king and queen, feigning to weep over the
loss of their daughter, themselves presented to him the false Princess.
"She was mounted on his back, and off he rushed with her--up hill, down
dale, by rocky ground and smooth, across rivers and through forests he
rushed, said the girl, faster and faster, till at last, as evening fell,
he came to a stand and spoke to her for the first time.
"'What time of day must it be by this, king's daughter?' he said.
"The girl considered for a moment. Then, forgetting her pretended
position, she replied thoughtlessly,
"'It must be getting late. About the time that my father gathers the
flowers to adorn the king's and queen's supper table.'
"'Throw thee once, throw thee twice, throw thee _thrice_,' roared the
bull, each time shaking the girl roughly, and the last time flinging her
off his back. 'Shame on thee, gardener's daughter, and thou wouldst call
thyself a true Princess.'
"And with that he left her bruised and frightened out of her wits on the
ground, and rushed off by himself whither she knew not. And it was not
till two days later that the unfortunate gardener's daughter found her
way home, glad enough, one may be sure, to be again there in safety.
"In the meantime the ravages and terrors caused by the terrible bull had
begun again, and, as before, messengers came incessantly to the king
entreating him to find some means of protecting his unfortunate
subjects. And the king and queen were half beside themselves with
anxiety. Only one thing they were determined on--nothing must be told to
the Princess.