'What house?' asked her husband.
'Our big house, and the flower garden, and the men and the maids, and
the thirty beautiful cows, and the steamer, and everything else?'
'You are talking nonsense, mother,' said he. 'The students have quite
turned your head, for you sang silly songs last evening while we were
rowing, and then you could not sleep till early morning. We had stormy
weather during the night, and when it was past I did not wish to waken
you, so rowed out alone to rescue the net.'
'But I've seen Ahti,' rejoined Maie.
'You've been lying in bed, dreaming foolish fancies, mother, and then in
your sleep you walked into the water.'
'But there is the fiddle,' said Maie.
'A fine fiddle! It is only an old stick. No, no, old woman, another time
we will be more careful. Good luck never attends fishing on a Sunday.'
From Z. Topelius.
_THE RASPBERRY WORM_
'PHEW!' cried Lisa.
'Ugh!' cried Aina.
'What now?' cried the big sister.
'A worm!' cried Lisa.
'On the raspberry!' cried Aina.
'Kill it!' cried Otto.
'What a fuss over a poor little worm!' said the big sister scornfully.
'Yes, when we had cleaned the raspberries so carefully,' said Lisa.
'It crept out from that very large one,' put in Aina.
'And supposing some one had eaten the raspberry,' said Lisa.
'Then they would have eaten the worm, too,' said Aina.
'Well, what harm?' said Otto.
'Eat a worm!' cried Lisa.
'And kill him with one bite!' murmured Aina.
'Just think of it!' said Otto laughing.
'Now it is crawling on the table,' cried Aina again.
'Blow it away!' said the big sister.
'Tramp on it!' laughed Otto.
But Lisa took a raspberry leaf, swept the worm carefully on to the leaf
and carried it out into the yard. Then Aina noticed that a sparrow
sitting on the fence was just getting ready to pounce on the poor little
worm, so she took up the leaf, carried it out into the wood and hid it
under a raspberry bush where the greedy sparrow could not find it. Yes,
and what more is there to tell about a raspberry worm? Who would give
three straws for such a miserable little thing? Yes, but who would not
like to live in such a pretty home as it lives in; in such a fresh
fragrant dark-red cottage, far away in the quiet wood among flowers and
green leaves!
Now it was just dinner time, so they all had a dinner of raspberries and
cream. 'Be careful with the sugar, Otto,' said the big sister; but
Otto's plate was like a snowdrift in winter, with just a little red
under the snow.
Soon after dinner the big sister said: 'Now we have eaten up the
raspberries and we have none left to make preserve for the winter; it
would be fine if we could get two baskets full of berries, then we could
clean them this evening, and to-morrow we could cook them in the big
preserving pan, and then we should have raspberry jam to eat on our
bread!'
'Come, let us go to the wood and pick,' said Lisa.
'Yes, let us,' said Aina. 'You take the yellow basket and I will take
the green one.'
'Don't get lost, and come back safely in the evening,' said the big
sister.
'Greetings to the raspberry worm,' said Otto, mockingly. 'Next time I
meet him I shall do him the honour of eating him up.'
So Aina and Lisa went off to the wood. Ah! how delightful it was there,
how beautiful! It was certainly tiresome sometimes climbing over the
fallen trees, and getting caught in the branches, and waging war with
the juniper bushes and the midges, but what did that matter? The girls
climbed well in their short dresses, and soon they were deep in the
wood.
There were plenty of bilberries and elder berries, but no raspberries.
They wandered on and on, and at last they came . . . No, it could not be
true! . . . they came to a large raspberry wood. The wood had been on
fire once, and now raspberry bushes had grown up, and there were
raspberry bushes and raspberry bushes as far as the eye could see. Every
bush was weighed to the ground with the largest, dark red, ripe
raspberries, such a wealth of berries as two little berry pickers had
never found before!
Lisa picked, Aina picked. Lisa ate, Aina ate, and in a little while
their baskets were full.
'Now, we shall go home,' said Aina. 'No, let us gather a few more,' said
Lisa. So they put the baskets down on the ground and began to fill their
pinafores, and it was not long before their pinafores were full, too.
'Now we shall go home,' said Lisa. 'Yes, now we shall go home,' said
Aina. Both girls took a basket in one hand and held up her apron in the
other and then turned to go home. But that was easier said than done.
They had never been so far in the great wood before, they could not find
any road nor path, and soon the girls noticed that they had lost their
way.
The worst of it was that the shadows of the trees were becoming so long
in the evening sunlight, the birds were beginning to fly home, and the
day was closing in. At last the sun went down behind the pine tops, and
it was cool and dusky in the great wood.
The girls became anxious but went steadily on, expecting that the wood
would soon end, and that they would see the smoke from the chimneys of
their home.
After they had wandered on for a long time it began to grow dark. At
last they reached a great plain overgrown with bushes, and when they
looked around them, they saw, as much as they could in the darkness,
that they were among the same beautiful raspberry bushes from which they
had picked their baskets and their aprons full. Then they were so tired
that they sat down on a stone and began to cry.
'I am so hungry,' said Lisa.
'Yes,' said Aina, 'if we had only two good meat sandwiches now.'
As she said that, she felt something in her hand, and when she looked
down, she saw a large sandwich of bread and chicken, and at the same
time Lisa said: 'How very queer! I have a sandwich in my hand.'
'And I, too,' said Aina. 'Will you dare to eat it?'
'Of course I will,' said Lisa. 'Ah, if we only had a good glass of milk
now!'
Just as she said that she felt a large glass of milk between her
fingers, and at the same time Aina cried out, 'Lisa! Lisa! I have a
glass of milk in my hand! Isn't it queer?'
The girls, however, were very hungry, so they ate and drank with a good
appetite. When they had finished Aina yawned, stretched out her arms and
said: 'Oh, if only we had a nice soft bed to sleep on now!'
Scarcely had she spoken before she felt a nice soft bed by her side, and
there beside Lisa was one too. This seemed to the girls more and more
wonderful, but tired and sleepy as they were, they thought no more about
it, but crept into the little beds, drew the coverlets over their heads
and were soon asleep.
When they awoke the sun was high in the heavens, the wood was beautiful
in the summer morning, and the birds were flying about in the branches
and the tree tops.
At first the girls were filled with wonder when they saw that they had
slept in the wood among the raspberry bushes. They looked at each other,
they looked at their beds, which were of the finest flax covered over
with leaves and moss. At last Lisa said: 'Are you awake, Aina?'
'Yes,' said Aina.
'But I am still dreaming,' said Lisa.
'No,' said Aina, 'but there is certainly some good fairy living among
these raspberry bushes. Ah, if we had only a hot cup of coffee now, and
a nice piece of white bread to dip into it!'
Scarcely had she finished speaking when she saw beside her a little
silver tray with a gilt coffee-pot, two cups of rare porcelain, a sugar
basin of fine crystal, silver sugar tongs, and some good fresh white
bread. The girls poured out the beautiful coffee, put in the cream and
sugar, and tasted it; never in their lives had they drunk such beautiful
coffee.
[Illustration: How Lisa and Aina met the Raspberry King]
'Now I should like to know very much who has given us all this,' said
Lisa gratefully.
'I have, my little girls,' said a voice just then from the bushes.
The children looked round wonderingly, and saw a little kind-looking
old man, in a white coat and a red cap, limping out from among the
bushes, for he was lame in his left foot; neither Lisa nor Aina could
utter a word, they were so filled with surprise.
'Don't be afraid, little girls,' he said smiling kindly at them; he
could not laugh properly because his mouth was crooked. 'Welcome to my
kingdom! Have you slept well and eaten well and drunk well?' he asked.
'Yes, indeed we have,' said both the girls, 'but tell us . . .' and they
wanted to ask who the old man was, but were afraid to.
'I will tell you who I am,' said the old man; 'I am the raspberry king,
who reigns over all this kingdom of raspberry bushes, and I have lived
here for more than a thousand years. But the great spirit who rules over
the woods, and the sea, and the sky, did not want me to become proud of
my royal power and my long life. Therefore he decreed that one day in
every hundred years I should change into a little raspberry worm, and
live in that weak and helpless form from sunrise till sunset. During
that time my life is dependent on the little worm's life, so that a bird
can eat me, a child can pick me with the berries and trample under foot
my thousand years of life. Now yesterday was just my transformation day,
and I was taken with the raspberry and would have been trampled to death
if you had not saved my life. Until sunset I lay helpless in the grass,
and when I was swept away from your table I twisted one of my feet, and
my mouth became crooked with terror; but when evening came and I could
take my own form again, I looked for you to thank you and reward you.
Then I found you both here in my kingdom, and tried to meet you both as
well as I could without frightening you. Now I will send a bird from my
wood to show you the way home. Good-bye, little children, thank you for
your kind hearts; the raspberry king can show that he is not
ungrateful.' The children shook hands with the old man and thanked him,
feeling very glad that they had saved the little raspberry worm. They
were just going when the old man turned round, smiled mischievously with
his crooked mouth, and said: 'Greetings to Otto from me, and tell him
when I meet him again I shall do him the honour of eating him up.'
'Oh, please don't do that,' cried both the girls, very frightened.
'Well, for your sake I will forgive him,' said the old man, 'I am not
revengeful. Greetings to Otto and tell him that he may expect a gift
from me, too. Good-bye.'
The two girls, light of heart, now took their berries and ran off
through the wood after the bird; and soon it began to get lighter in the
wood and they wondered how they could have lost their way yesterday, it
seemed so easy and plain now.
One can imagine what joy there was when the two reached home. Everyone
had been looking for them, and the big sister had not been able to
sleep, for she thought the wolves had eaten them up.
Otto met them; he had a basket in his hand and said: 'Look, here is
something that an old man has just left for you.'
When the girls looked into the basket they saw a pair of most beautiful
bracelets of precious stones, dark red, and made in the shape of a ripe
raspberry and with an inscription: 'To Lisa and Aina'; beside them there
was a diamond breast pin in the shape of a raspberry worm: on it was
inscribed 'Otto, never destroy the helpless!'
Otto felt rather ashamed: he quite understood what it meant, but he
thought that the old man's revenge was a noble one.
The raspberry king had also remembered the big sister, for when she went
in to set the table for dinner, she found eleven big baskets of most
beautiful raspberries, and no one knew how they had come there, but
everyone guessed.
And so there was such a jam-making as had never been seen before, and if
you like to go and help in it, you might perhaps get a little, for they
must surely be making jam still to this very day.
From Z. Topelius.
_THE STONES OF PLOUHINEC_
PERHAPS some of you may have read a book called 'Kenneth; or the
Rear-Guard of the Grand Army of Napoleon.' If so, you will remember how
the two Scotch children found in Russia were taken care of by the French
soldiers and prevented as far as possible from suffering from the
horrors of the terrible Retreat. One of the soldiers, a Breton, often
tried to make them forget how cold and hungry they were by telling them
tales of his native country, Brittany, which is full of wonderful
things. The best and warmest place round the camp fire was always given
to the children, but even so the bitter frost would cause them to
shiver. It was then that the Breton would begin: 'Plouhinec is a small
town near Hennebonne by the sea,' and would continue until Kenneth or
Effie would interrupt him with an eager question. Then he forgot how his
mother had told him the tale, and was obliged to begin all over again,
so the story lasted a long while, and by the time it was ended the
children were ready to be rolled up in whatever coverings could be
found, and go to sleep.
It is this story that I am going to tell to you.
* * * * *
Plouhinec is a small town near Hennebonne by the sea. Around it
stretches a desolate moor, where no corn can be grown, and the grass is
so coarse that no beast grows fat on it. Here and there are scattered
groves of fir trees, and small pebbles are so thick on the ground that
you might almost take it for a beach. On the further side, the fairies,
or korigans, as the people called them, had set up long long ago two
rows of huge stones; indeed, so tall and heavy were they, that it seemed
as if all the fairies in the world could not have placed them upright.
Not far off from this great stone avenue, and on the banks of the little
river Intel, there lived a man named Marzinne and his sister Rozennik.
They always had enough black bread to eat, and wooden shoes or sabots to
wear, and a pig to fatten, so the neighbours thought them quite rich;
and what was still better, they thought themselves rich also.
Rozennik was a pretty girl, who knew how to make the best of everything,
and she could, if she wished, have chosen a husband from the young men
of Plouhinec, but she cared for none of them except Bernèz, whom she had
played with all her life, and Bernèz, though he worked hard, was so very
very poor that Marzinne told him roughly he must look elsewhere for a
wife. But whatever Marzinne might say Rozennik smiled and nodded to him
as before, and would often turn her head as she passed, and sing
snatches of old songs over her shoulder.
* * * * *
Christmas Eve had come, and all the men who worked under Marzinne or on
the farms round about were gathered in the large kitchen to eat the soup
flavoured with honey followed by rich puddings, to which they were
always invited on this particular night. In the middle of the table was
a large wooden bowl, with wooden spoons placed in a circle round it, so
that each might dip in his turn. The benches were filled, and Marzinne
was about to give the signal, when the door was suddenly thrown open,
and an old man came in, wishing the guests a good appetite for their
supper. There was a pause, and some of the faces looked a little
frightened; for the new comer was well known to them as a beggar, who
was also said to be a wizard who cast spells over the cattle, and caused
the corn to grow black, and old people to die, of what, nobody knew.
Still, it was Christmas Eve, and besides it was as well not to offend
him, so the farmer invited him in, and gave him a seat at the table and
a wooden spoon like the rest.
There was not much talk after the beggar's entrance, and everyone was
glad when the meal came to an end, and the beggar asked if he might
sleep in the stable, as he should die of cold if he were left outside.
Rather unwillingly Marzinne gave him leave, and bade Bernèz take the key
and unlock the door. There was certainly plenty of room for a dozen
beggars, for the only occupants of the stable were an old donkey and a
thin ox; and as the night was bitter, the wizard lay down between them
for warmth, with a sack of reeds for a pillow.
He had walked far that day, and even wizards get tired sometimes, so in
spite of the hard floor he was just dropping off to sleep, when midnight
struck from the church tower of Plouhinec. At this sound the donkey
raised her head and shook her ears, and turned towards the ox.
'Well, my dear cousin,' said she, 'and how have you fared since last
Christmas Eve, when we had a conversation together?'
Instead of answering at once, the ox eyed the beggar with a long look of
disgust.
'What is the use of talking,' he replied roughly, 'when a
good-for-nothing creature like that can hear all we say?'
'Oh, you mustn't lose time in grumbling,' rejoined the donkey gaily,
'and don't you see that the wizard is asleep?'
'His wicked pranks do not make him rich, certainly,' said the ox, 'and
he isn't even clever enough to have found out what a piece of luck
might befall him a week hence.'
'What piece of luck?' asked the donkey.
'Why, don't you know,' inquired the ox, 'that once every hundred years
the stones on Plouhinec heath go down to drink at the river, and that
while they are away the treasures underneath them are uncovered?'
'Ah, I remember now,' replied the donkey, 'but the stones return so
quickly to their places, that you certainly would be crushed to death
unless you have in your hands a bunch of crowsfoot and of five-leaved
trefoil.'
'Yes, but that is not enough,' said the ox; 'even supposing you get
safely by, the treasures you have brought with you will crumble into
dust if you do not give in exchange a baptized soul. It is needful that
a Christian should die before you can enjoy the wealth of Plouhinec.'
The donkey was about to ask some further questions, when she suddenly
found herself unable to speak: the time allowed them for conversation
was over.
* * * * *
'Ah, my dear creatures,' thought the beggar, who had of course heard
everything, 'you are going to make me richer than the richest men of
Vannes or Lorient. But I have no time to lose; to-morrow I must begin to
hunt for the precious plants.'
He did not dare to seek too near Plouhinec, lest somebody who knew the
story might guess what he was doing, so he went away further towards the
south, where the air was softer and the plants are always green. From
the instant it was light, till the last rays had faded out of the sky,
he searched every inch of ground where the magic plants might grow; he
scarcely gave himself a minute to eat and drink, but at length he found
the crowsfoot in a little hollow! Well, that was certainly a great deal,
but after all, the crowsfoot was of no use without the trefoil, and
there was so little time left.
He had almost given up hope, when on the very last day before it was
necessary that he should start for Plouhinec, he came upon a little
clump of trefoil, half hidden under a rock. Hardly able to breathe from
excitement, he sat down and hunted eagerly through the plant which he
had torn up. Leaf after leaf he threw aside in disgust, and he had
nearly reached the end when he gave a cry of joy--the five-leaved
trefoil was in his hand.
The beggar scrambled to his feet, and without a pause walked quickly
down the road that led northwards. The moon was bright, and for some
hours he kept steadily on, not knowing how many miles he had gone, nor
even feeling tired. By and bye the sun rose, and the world began to
stir, and stopping at a farmhouse door, he asked for a cup of milk and
slice of bread and permission to rest for a while in the porch. Then he
continued his journey, and so, towards sunset on New Year's Eve, he came
back to Plouhinec.
* * * * *
As he was passing the long line of stones, he saw Bernèz working with a
chisel on the tallest of them all.
'What are you doing there?' called the wizard, 'do you mean to hollow
out for yourself a bed in that huge column?'
'No,' replied Bernèz quietly, 'but as I happened to have no work to do
to-day, I thought I would just carve a cross on this stone. The holy
sign can never come amiss.'
'I believe you think it will help you to win Rozennik,' laughed the old
man.
Bernèz ceased his task for a moment to look at him.
'Ah, so you know about that,' replied he; 'unluckily Marzinne wants a
brother-in-law who has more pounds than I have pence.'
'And suppose I were to give you more pounds than Marzinne ever dreamed
of?' whispered the sorcerer, glancing round to make sure that no one
overheard him.
'You?'
'Yes, I.'
'And what am I to do to gain the money,' inquired Bernèz, who knew quite
well that the Breton peasant gives nothing for nothing.
'What I want of you only needs a little courage,' answered the old man.
'If that is all, tell me what I have got to do, and I will do it,' cried
Bernèz, letting fall his chisel. 'If I have to risk thirty deaths, I am
ready.'
When the beggar knew that Bernèz would give him no trouble, he told him
how, during that very night, the treasures under the stones would be
uncovered, and how in a very few minutes they could take enough to make
them both rich for life. But he kept silence as to the fate that awaited
the man who was without the crowsfoot and the trefoil, and Bernèz
thought that nothing but boldness and quickness were necessary. So he
said:
'Old man, I am grateful, indeed, for the chance you have given me, and
there will always be a pint of my blood at your service. Just let me
finish carving this cross. It is nearly done, and I will join you in the
fir wood at whatever hour you please.'
'You must be there without fail an hour before midnight,' answered the
wizard, and went on his way.
* * * * *
As the hour struck from the great church at Plouhinec, Bernèz entered
the wood. He found the beggar already there with a bag in each hand, and
a third slung round his neck.
'You are punctual,' said the old man, 'but we need not start just yet.
You had better sit down and think what you will do when your pockets are
filled with gold and silver and jewels.'
'Oh, it won't take me long to plan out that,' returned Bernèz with a
laugh. 'I shall give Rozennik everything she can desire, dresses of all
sorts, from cotton to silk, and good things of all kinds to eat, from
white bread to oranges.'
'The silver you find will pay for all that, and what about the gold?'
'With the gold I shall make rich Rozennik's relations and every friend
of hers in the parish,' replied he.
'So much for the gold; and the jewels?'
'Then,' cried Bernèz, 'I will divide the jewels amongst everybody in the
world, so that they may be wealthy and happy; and I will tell them that
it is Rozennik who would have it so.'
'Hush! it is close on midnight--we must go,' whispered the wizard, and
together they crept to the edge of the wood.
With the first stroke of twelve a great noise arose over the silent
heath, and the earth seemed to rock under the feet of the two watchers.
The next moment by the light of the moon they beheld the huge stones
near them leave their places and go down the slope leading to the river,
knocking against each other in their haste. Passing the spot where stood
Bernèz and the beggar, they were lost in the darkness. It seemed as if a
procession of giants had gone by.
'Quick,' said the wizard, in a low voice, and he rushed towards the
empty holes, which even in the night shone brightly from the treasures
within them. Flinging himself on his knees, the old man began filling
the wallets he had brought, listening intently all the time for the
return of the stones up the hill, while Bernèz more slowly put handfuls
of all he could see into his pockets.
The sorcerer had just closed his third wallet, and was beginning to
wonder if he could carry away any more treasures when a low murmur as of
a distant storm broke upon his ears.
The stones had finished drinking, and were hastening back to their
places.
On they came, bent a little forward, the tallest of them all at their
head, breaking everything that stood in their way. At the sight Bernèz
stood transfixed with horror, and said,
'We are lost! They will crush us to death.'
'Not me!' answered the sorcerer, holding up the crowsfoot and the
five-leaved trefoil, 'for these will preserve me. But in order to keep
my riches, I was obliged to sacrifice a Christian to the stones, and an
evil fate threw you in my way.' And as he spoke he stretched out the
magic herbs to the stones, which were advancing rapidly. As if
acknowledging a power greater than theirs, the monstrous things
instantly parted to the right and left of the wizard, but closed their
ranks again as they approached Bernèz.
The young man did not try to escape, he knew it was useless, and sank on
his knees and closed his eyes. But suddenly the tall stone that was
leading stopped straight in front of Bernèz, so that no other could get
past.
It was the stone on which Bernèz had carved the cross, and it was now a
baptized stone, and had power to save him.
So the stone remained before the young man till the rest had taken their
places, and then, darting like a bird to its own hole, came upon the
beggar, who, thinking himself quite safe, was staggering along under the
weight of his treasures.
Seeing the stone approaching, he held out the magic herbs which he
carried, but the baptized stone was no longer subject to the spells that
bound the rest, and passed straight on its way, leaving the wizard
crushed into powder in the heather.
Then Bernèz went home, and showed his wealth to Marzinne, who this time
did not refuse him as a brother-in-law, and he and Rozennik were
married, and lived happy for ever after.
From 'Le Foyer Breton,' par Emile Souvestre.
_THE CASTLE OF KERGLAS_
PERONNIK was a poor idiot who belonged to nobody, and he would have died
of starvation if it had not been for the kindness of the village people,
who gave him food whenever he chose to ask for it. And as for a bed,
when night came, and he grew sleepy, he looked about for a heap of
straw, and making a hole in it, crept in, like a lizard. Idiot though he
was, he was never unhappy, but always thanked gratefully those who fed
him, and sometimes would stop for a little and sing to them. For he
could imitate a lark so well, that no one knew which was Peronnik and
which was the bird.
He had been wandering in a forest one day for several hours, and when
evening approached, he suddenly felt very hungry. Luckily, just at that
place the trees grew thinner, and he could see a small farmhouse a
little way off. Peronnik went straight towards it, and found the
farmer's wife standing at the door holding in her hands the large bowl
out of which her children had eaten their supper.
'I am hungry, will you give me something to eat?' asked the boy.
'If you can find anything here, you are welcome to it,' answered she,
and, indeed, there was not much left, as everybody's spoon had dipped
in. But Peronnik ate what was there with a hearty appetite, and thought
that he had never tasted better food.
'It is made of the finest flour and mixed with the richest milk and
stirred by the best cook in all the countryside,' and though he said it
to himself, the woman heard him.
'Poor innocent,' she murmured, 'he does not know what he is saying, but
I will cut him a slice of that new wheaten loaf,' and so she did, and
Peronnik ate up every crumb, and declared that nobody less than the
bishop's baker could have baked it. This flattered the farmer's wife so
much that she gave him some butter to spread on it, and Peronnik was
still eating it on the doorstep when an armed knight rode up.
'Can you tell me the way to the castle of Kerglas?' asked he.
'To Kerglas? are you _really_ going to Kerglas?' cried the woman,
turning pale.
'Yes; and in order to get there I have come from a country so far off
that it has taken me three months' hard riding to travel as far as
this.'
'And why do you want to go to Kerglas?' said she.
'I am seeking the basin of gold and the lance of diamonds which are in
the castle,' he answered. Then Peronnik looked up.
'The basin and the lance are very costly things,' he said suddenly.
'More costly and precious than all the crowns in the world,' replied the
stranger, 'for not only will the basin furnish you with the best food
that you can dream of, but if you drink of it, it will cure you of any
illness however dangerous, and will even bring the dead back to life, if
it touches their mouths. As to the diamond lance, that will cut through
any stone or metal.'
'And to whom do these wonders belong?' asked Peronnik in amazement.
'To a magician named Rogéar who lives in the castle,' answered the
woman. 'Every day he passes along here, mounted on a black mare, with a
colt thirteen months old trotting behind. But no one dares to attack
him, as he always carries his lance.'
'That is true,' said the knight, 'but there is a spell laid upon him
which forbids his using it within the castle of Kerglas. The moment he
enters, the basin and lance are put away in a dark cellar which no key
but one can open. And _that_ is the place where I wish to fight the
magician.'
'You will never overcome him, Sir Knight,' replied the woman, shaking
her head. 'More than a hundred gentlemen have ridden past this house
bent on the same errand, and not one has ever come back.'
'I know that, good woman,' returned the knight, 'but then they did not
have, like me, instructions from the hermit of Blavet.'
'And what did the hermit tell you?' asked Peronnik.
'He told me that I should have to pass through a wood full of all sorts
of enchantments and voices, which would try to frighten me and make me
lose my way. Most of those who have gone before me have wandered they
know not where, and perished from cold, hunger, or fatigue.'
'Well, suppose you get through safely?' said the idiot.
'If I do,' continued the knight, 'I shall then meet a sort of fairy
armed with a needle of fire which burns to ashes all it touches. This
dwarf stands guarding an apple-tree, from which I am bound to pluck an
apple.'
'And next?' inquired Peronnik.
'Next I shall find the flower that laughs, protected by a lion whose
mane is formed of vipers. I must pluck that flower, and go on to the
lake of the dragons and fight the black man who holds in his hand the
iron ball which never misses its mark and returns of its own accord to
its master. After that, I enter the valley of pleasure, where some who
conquered all the other obstacles have left their bones. If I can win
through this, I shall reach a river with only one ford, where a lady in
black will be seated. She will mount my horse behind me, and tell me
what I am to do next.'
He paused, and the woman shook her head.
'You will never be able to do all that,' said she, but he bade her
remember that these were only matters for men, and galloped away down
the path she pointed out.
* * * * *
The farmer's wife sighed and, giving Peronnik some more food, bade him
good-night. The idiot rose and was opening the gate which led into the
forest when the farmer himself came up.
'I want a boy to tend my cattle,' he said abruptly, 'as the one I had
has run away. Will you stay and do it?' and Peronnik, though he loved
his liberty and hated work, recollected the good food he had eaten, and
agreed to stop.
At sunrise he collected his herd carefully and led them to the rich
pasture which lay along the borders of the forest, cutting himself a
hazel wand with which to keep them in order.
His task was not quite so easy as it looked, for the cows had a way of
straying into the wood, and by the time he had brought one back another
was off. He had gone some distance into the trees, after a naughty black
cow which gave him more trouble than all the rest, when he heard the
noise of horse's feet, and peeping through the leaves he beheld the
giant Rogéar seated on his mare, with the colt trotting behind. Round
the giant's neck hung the golden bowl suspended from a chain, and in his
hand he grasped the diamond lance, which gleamed like fire. But as soon
as he was out of sight the idiot sought in vain for traces of the path
he had taken.
This happened not only once but many times, till Peronnik grew so used
to him that he never troubled to hide. But on each occasion he saw him
the desire to possess the bowl and the lance became stronger.
* * * * *
One evening the boy was sitting alone on the edge of the forest, when a
man with a white beard stopped beside him. 'Do you want to know the way
to Kerglas?' asked the idiot, and the man answered 'I know it well.'
'You have been there without being killed by the magician?' cried
Peronnik.
'Oh! he had nothing to fear from me,' replied the white-bearded man, 'I
am Rogéar's elder brother, the wizard Bryak. When I wish to visit him I
always pass this way, and as even I cannot go through the enchanted wood
without losing myself, I call the colt to guide me.' Stooping down as he
spoke he traced three circles on the ground and murmured some words very
low, which Peronnik could not hear. Then he added aloud:
Colt, free to run and free to eat,
Colt, gallop fast until we meet,
and instantly the colt appeared, frisking and jumping to the wizard, who
threw a halter over his neck and leapt on his back.
* * * * *
Peronnik kept silence at the farm about this adventure, but he
understood very well that if he was ever to get to Kerglas he must first
catch the colt which knew the way. Unhappily he had not heard the magic
words uttered by the wizard, and he could not manage to draw the three
circles, so if he was to summon the colt at all he must invent some
other means of doing it.
All day long, while he was herding the cows, he thought and thought how
he was to call the colt, for he felt sure that once on its back he
could overcome the other dangers. Meantime he must be ready in case a
chance should come, and he made his preparations at night, when every
one was asleep. Remembering what he had seen the wizard do, he patched
up an old halter that was hanging in a corner of the stable, twisted a
rope of hemp to catch the colt's feet, and a net such as is used for
snaring birds. Next he sewed roughly together some bits of cloth to
serve as a pocket, and this he filled with glue and larks' feathers, a
string of beads, a whistle of elder wood, and a slice of bread rubbed
over with bacon fat. Then he went out to the path down which Rogéar, his
mare, and the colt always rode, and crumbled the bread on one side of
it.
Punctual to their hour all three appeared, eagerly watched by Peronnik,
who lay hid in the bushes close by. Suppose it was useless; suppose the
mare, and not the colt, ate the crumbs? Suppose--but no! the mare and
her rider went safely by, vanishing round a corner, while the colt,
trotting along with its head on the ground, smelt the bread, and began
greedily to lick up the pieces. Oh, how good it was! Why had no one ever
given it that before, and so absorbed was the little beast, sniffing
about after a few more crumbs, that it never heard Peronnik creep up
till it felt the halter on its neck and the rope round its feet, and--in
another moment--some one on its back.
Going as fast as the hobbles would allow, the colt turned into one of
the wildest parts of the forest, while its rider sat trembling at the
strange sights he saw. Sometimes the earth seemed to open in front of
them and he was looking into a bottomless pit; sometimes the trees burst
into flames and he found himself in the midst of a fire; often in the
act of crossing a stream the water rose and threatened to sweep him
away; and again, at the foot of a mountain, great rocks would roll
towards him, as if they would crush him and his colt beneath their
weight. To his dying day Peronnik never knew whether these things were
real or if he only imagined them, but he pulled down his knitted cap so
as to cover his eyes, and trusted the colt to carry him down the right
road.
At last the forest was left behind, and they came out on a wide plain
where the air blew fresh and strong. The idiot ventured to peep out, and
found to his relief that the enchantments seemed to have ended, though a
thrill of horror shot through him as he noticed the skeletons of men
scattered over the plain, beside the skeletons of their horses. And what
were those grey forms trotting away in the distance? Were they--could
they be--_wolves_?
But vast though the plain seemed, it did not take long to cross, and
very soon the colt entered a sort of shady park in which was standing a
single apple-tree, its branches bowed down to the ground with the weight
of its fruit. In front was the korigan--the little fairy man--holding in
his hand the fiery sword, which reduced to ashes everything it touched.
At the sight of Peronnik he uttered a piercing scream, and raised his
sword, but without appearing surprised the youth only lifted his cap,
though he took care to remain at a little distance.
'Do not be alarmed, my prince,' said Peronnik, 'I am just on my way to
Kerglas, as the noble Rogéar has begged me to come to him on business.'
'Begged _you_ to come!' repeated the dwarf, 'and who, then, are you?'
'I am the new servant he has engaged, as you know very well,' answered
Peronnik.
'I do not know at all,' rejoined the korigan sulkily, 'and you may be a
robber for all I can tell.'
'I am so sorry,' replied Peronnik, 'but I may be wrong in calling myself
a servant, for I am only a bird-catcher. But do not delay me, I pray,
for his highness the magician expects me, and, as you see, has lent me
his colt so that I may reach the castle all the quicker.'
At these words the korigan cast his eyes for the first time on the colt,
which he knew to be the one belonging to the magician, and began to
think that the young man was speaking the truth. After examining the
horse, he studied the rider, who had such an innocent, and indeed
vacant, air that he appeared incapable of inventing a story. Still, the
dwarf did not feel _quite_ sure that all was right, and asked what the
magician wanted with a bird-catcher.
'From what he says, he wants one very badly,' replied Peronnik, 'as he
declares that all his grain and all the fruit in his garden at Kerglas
are eaten up by the birds.'
'And how are you going to stop that, my fine fellow?' inquired the
korigan; and Peronnik showed him the snare he had prepared, and remarked
that no bird could possibly escape from it.
'That is just what I should like to be sure of,' answered the korigan.
'My apples are completely eaten up by blackbirds and thrushes. Lay your
snare, and if you can manage to catch them, I will let you pass.'
'That is a fair bargain,' and as he spoke Peronnik jumped down and
fastened his colt to a tree; then, stooping, he fixed one end of the net
to the trunk of the apple-tree, and called to the korigan to hold the
other while he took out the pegs. The dwarf did as he was bid, when
suddenly Peronnik threw the noose over his neck and drew it close, and
the korigan was held as fast as any of the birds he wished to snare.
Shrieking with rage, he tried to undo the cord, but he only pulled the
knot tighter. He had put down the sword on the grass, and Peronnik had
been careful to fix the net on the other side of the tree, so that it
was now easy for him to pluck an apple and to mount his horse, without
being hindered by the dwarf, whom he left to his fate.
* * * * *
When they had left the plain behind them, Peronnik and his steed found
themselves in a narrow valley in which was a grove of trees, full of all
sorts of sweet-smelling things--roses of every colour, yellow broom,
pink honeysuckle--while above them all towered a wonderful scarlet pansy
whose face bore a strange expression. This was the flower that laughs,
and no one who looked at it could help laughing too. Peronnik's heart
beat high at the thought that he had reached safely the second trial,
and he gazed quite calmly at the lion with the mane of vipers twisting
and twirling, who walked up and down in front of the grove.
The young man pulled up and removed his cap, for, idiot though he was,
he knew that when you have to do with people greater than yourself, a
cap is more useful in the hand than on the head. Then, after wishing all
kinds of good fortune to the lion and his family, he inquired if he was
on the right road to Kerglas.
'And what is your business at Kerglas?' asked the lion with a growl, and
showing his teeth.
'With all respect,' answered Peronnik, pretending to be very frightened,
'I am the servant of a lady who is a friend of the noble Rogéar and
sends him some larks for a pasty.'
'Larks?' cried the lion, licking his long whiskers. 'Why, it must be a
century since I have had any! Have you a large quantity with you?'
'As many as this bag will hold,' replied Peronnik, opening, as he spoke,
the bag which he had filled with feathers and glue; and to prove what he
said, he turned his back on the lion and began to imitate the song of a
lark.
'Come,' exclaimed the lion, whose mouth watered, 'show me the birds! I
should like to see if they are fat enough for my master.'
'I would do it with pleasure,' answered the idiot, 'but if I once open
the bag they will all fly away.'
'Well, open it wide enough for me to look in,' said the lion, drawing a
little nearer.
[Illustration: How Peronnik tricked the Viper-maned Lion with a bag]
Now this was just what Peronnik had been hoping for, so he held the bag
while the lion opened it carefully and put his head right inside, so
that he might get a good mouthful of larks. But the mass of feathers and
glue stuck to him, and before he could pull his head out again Peronnik
had drawn tight the cord, and tied it in a knot that no man could untie.
Then, quickly gathering the flower that laughs, he rode off as fast as
the colt could take him.
* * * * *
The path soon led to the lake of the dragons, which he had to swim
across. The colt, who was accustomed to it, plunged into the water
without hesitation; but as soon as the dragons caught sight of Peronnik
they approached from all parts of the lake in order to devour him.
This time Peronnik did not trouble to take off his cap, but he threw the
beads he carried with him into the water, as you throw black corn to a
duck, and with each bead that he swallowed a dragon turned on his back
and died, so that the idiot reached the other side without further
trouble.
The valley guarded by the black man now lay before him, and from afar
Peronnik beheld him, chained by one foot to a rock at the entrance, and
holding the iron ball which never missed its mark and always returned to
its master's hand. In his head the black man had six eyes that were
never all shut at once, but kept watch one after the other. At this
moment they were all open, and Peronnik knew well that if the black man
caught a glimpse of him he would cast his ball. So, hiding the colt
behind a thicket of bushes, he crawled along a ditch and crouched close
to the very rock to which the black man was chained.
The day was hot, and after a while the man began to grow sleepy. Two of
his eyes closed, and Peronnik sang gently. In a moment a third eye shut,
and Peronnik sang on. The lid of a fourth eye dropped heavily, and then
those of the fifth and the sixth. The black man was asleep altogether.
Then, on tiptoe, the idiot crept back to the colt, which he led over
soft moss past the black man into the vale of pleasure, a delicious
garden full of fruits that dangled before your mouth, fountains running
with wine, and flowers chanting in soft little voices. Further on,
tables were spread with food, and girls dancing on the grass called to
him to join them.
Peronnik heard, and, scarcely knowing what he did drew the colt into a
slower pace. He sniffed greedily the smell of the dishes, and raised his
head the better to see the dancers. Another instant and he would have
stopped altogether and been lost, like others before him, when suddenly
there came to him like a vision the golden bowl and the diamond lance.
Drawing his whistle from his pocket, he blew it loudly, so as to drown
the sweet sounds about him, and ate what was left of his bread and bacon
to still the craving of the magic fruits. His eyes he fixed steadily on
the ears of the colt, that he might not see the dancers.
In this way he was able to reach the end of the garden, and at length
perceived the castle of Kerglas, with the river between them which had
only one ford. Would the lady be there, as the old man had told him?
Yes, surely that was she, sitting on a rock, in a black satin dress, and
her face the colour of a Moorish woman's. The idiot rode up, and took
off his cap more politely than ever, and asked if she did not wish to
cross the river.
'I was waiting for you to help me do so,' answered she. 'Come near, that
I may get up behind you.'
Peronnik did as she bade him, and by the help of his arm she jumped
nimbly on to the back of the colt.
'Do you know how to kill the magician?' asked the lady, as they were
crossing the ford.
'I thought that, being a magician, he was immortal, and that no one
could kill him,' replied Peronnik.
'Persuade him to taste that apple, and he will die, and if that is not
enough I will touch him with my finger, for I am the plague,' answered
she.
'But if I kill him, how am I to get the golden bowl and the diamond
lance that are hidden in the cellar without a key?' rejoined Peronnik.
[Illustration: PERONNIK IN THE VALE OF PLEASURE]
[Illustration: The Lady in black slays Rogéar the Magician]
'The flower that laughs opens all doors and lightens all darkness,' said
the lady; and as she spoke, they reached the further bank, and
advanced towards the castle.
In front of the entrance was a sort of tent supported on poles, and
under it the giant was sitting, basking in the sun. As soon as he
noticed the colt bearing Peronnik and the lady, he lifted his head, and
cried in a voice of thunder:
'Why, it is surely the idiot, riding my colt thirteen months old!'
'Greatest of magicians, you are right,' answered Peronnik.
'And how did you manage to catch him?' asked the giant.
'By repeating what I learnt from your brother Bryak on the edge of the
forest,' replied the idiot. 'I just said--
Colt, free to run and free to eat,
Colt, gallop fast until we meet,
and it came directly.'
'You know my brother, then?' inquired the giant. 'Tell me why he sent
you here.'
'To bring you two gifts which he has just received from the country of
the Moors,' answered Peronnik: 'the apple of delight and the woman of
submission. If you eat the apple you will not desire anything else, and
if you take the woman as your servant you will never wish for another.'
'Well, give me the apple, and bid the woman get down,' answered Rogéar.
The idiot obeyed, but at the first taste of the apple the giant
staggered, and as the long yellow finger of the woman touched him he
fell dead.
Leaving the magician where he lay, Peronnik entered the palace, bearing
with him the flower that laughs. Fifty doors flew open before him, and
at length he reached a long flight of steps which seemed to lead into
the bowels of the earth. Down these he went till he came to a silver
door without a bar or key. Then he held up high the flower that laughs,
and the door slowly swung back, displaying a deep cavern, which was as
bright as day from the shining of the golden bowl and the diamond lance.
The idiot hastily ran forward and hung the bowl round his neck from the
chain which was attached to it, and took the lance in his hand. As he
did so, the ground shook beneath him, and with an awful rumbling the
palace disappeared, and Peronnik found himself standing close to the
forest where he led the cattle to graze.
* * * * *
Though darkness was coming on, Peronnik never thought of entering the
farm, but followed the road which led to the court of the duke of
Brittany. As he passed through the town of Vannes he stopped at a
tailor's shop, and bought a beautiful costume of brown velvet and a
white horse, which he paid for with a handful of gold that he had picked
up in the corridor of the castle of Kerglas. Thus he made his way to the
city of Nantes, which at that moment was besieged by the French.
A little way off, Peronnik stopped and looked about him. For miles round
the country was bare, for the enemy had cut down every tree and burnt
every blade of corn; and, idiot though he might be, Peronnik was able to
grasp that inside the gates men were dying of famine. He was still
gazing with horror, when a trumpeter appeared on the walls, and, after
blowing a loud blast, announced that the duke would adopt as his heir
the man who could drive the French out of the country.
On the four sides of the city the trumpeter blew his blast, and the last
time Peronnik, who had ridden up as close as he might, answered him.
'You need blow no more,' said he, 'for I myself will free the town from
her enemies.' And turning to a soldier who came running up, waving his
sword, he touched him with the magic lance, and he fell dead on the
spot. The men who were following stood still, amazed. Their comrade's
armour had not been pierced, of that they were sure, yet he was dead, as
if he had been struck to the heart. But before they had time to recover
from their astonishment, Peronnik cried out:
'You see how my foes will fare; now behold what I can do for my
friends,' and, stooping down, he laid the golden bowl against the mouth
of the soldier, who sat up as well as ever. Then, jumping his horse
across the trench, he entered the gate of the city, which had opened
wide enough to receive him.
The news of these marvels quickly spread through the town, and put fresh
spirit into the garrison, so that they declared themselves able to fight
under the command of the young stranger. And as the bowl restored all
the dead Bretons to life, Peronnik soon had an army large enough to
drive away the French, and fulfilled his promise of delivering his
country.
As to the bowl and the lance, no one knows what became of them, but some
say that Bryak the sorcerer managed to steal them again, and that any
one who wishes to possess them must seek them as Peronnik did.
From 'Le Foyer Breton,' par Emile Souvestre.
_THE BATTLE OF THE BIRDS_
THERE was to be a great battle between all the creatures of the earth
and the birds of the air. News of it went abroad, and the son of the
king of Tethertown said that when the battle was fought he would be
there to see it, and would bring back word who was to be king. But in
spite of that, he was almost too late, and every fight had been fought
save the last, which was between a snake and a great black raven. Both
struck hard, but in the end the snake proved the stronger, and would
have twisted himself round the neck of the raven till he died had not
the king's son drawn his sword, and cut off the head of the snake at a
single blow. And when the raven beheld that his enemy was dead, he was
grateful, and said:
'For thy kindness to me this day, I will show thee a sight. So come up
now on the root of my two wings.' The king's son did as he was bid, and
before the raven stopped flying, they had passed over seven bens and
seven glens and seven mountain moors.
'Do you see that house yonder?' said the raven at last. 'Go straight to
it, for a sister of mine dwells there, and she will make you right
welcome. And if she asks, "Wert thou at the battle of the birds?" answer
that thou wert, and if she asks, "Didst thou see my likeness?" answer
that thou sawest it, but be sure thou meetest me in the morning at this
place.'
The king's son followed what the raven told him and that night he had
meat of each meat, and drink of each drink, warm water for his feet, and
a soft bed to lie in.
Thus it happened the next day, and the next, but on the fourth morning,
instead of meeting the raven, in his place the king's son found waiting
for him the handsomest youth that ever was seen, with a bundle in his
hand.
[Illustration: How the King's Son saved the Raven from the Snake
by H. J. Ford 1910]
'Is there a raven hereabouts?' asked the king's son, and the youth
answered:
'I am that raven, and I was delivered by thee from the spells that bound
me, and in reward thou wilt get this bundle. Go back by the road thou
camest, and lie as before, a night in each house, but be careful not to
unloose the bundle till thou art in the place wherein thou wouldst most
wish to dwell.'
Then the king's son set out, and thus it happened as it had happened
before, till he entered a thick wood near his father's house. He had
walked a long way, and suddenly the bundle seemed to grow heavier; first
he put it down under a tree, and next he thought he would look at it.
The string was easy to untie, and the king's son soon unfastened the
bundle. What was it he saw there? Why, a great castle with an orchard
all about it, and in the orchard fruit and flowers and birds of every
kind. It was all ready for him to dwell in, but instead of being in the
midst of the forest, he _did_ wish he had left the bundle unloosed till
he had reached the green valley close to his father's palace. Well, it
was no use wishing, and with a sigh he glanced up, and beheld a huge
giant coming towards him.
* * * * *
'Bad is the place where thou hast built thy house, king's son,' said the
giant.
'True; it is not here that I wish it to be,' answered the king's son.
'What reward wilt thou give me if I put it back in the bundle?' asked
the giant.
'What reward dost thou ask?' answered the king's son.
'The first boy thou hast when he is seven years old,' said the giant.
'If I have a boy thou shalt get him,' answered the king's son, and as he
spoke the castle and the orchard were tied up in the bundle again.
'Now take thy road, and I will take mine,' said the giant. 'And if thou
forgettest thy promise, _I_ will remember it.'
Light of heart the king's son went on his road, till he came to the
green valley near his father's palace. Slowly he unloosed the bundle,
fearing lest he should find nothing but a heap of stones or rags. But
no! all was as it had been before, and as he opened the castle door
there stood within the most beautiful maiden that ever was seen.
'Enter, king's son,' said she, 'all is ready, and we will be married at
once,' and so they were.
The maiden proved a good wife, and the king's son, now himself a king,
was so happy that he forgot all about the giant. Seven years and a day
had gone by, when one morning, while standing on the ramparts, he beheld
the giant striding towards the castle. Then he remembered his promise,
and remembered, too, that he had told the queen nothing about it. Now he
must tell her, and perhaps she might help him in his trouble.
The queen listened in silence to his tale, and after he had finished,
she only said:
'Leave thou the matter between me and the giant,' and as she spoke, the
giant entered the hall and stood before them.
'Bring out your son,' cried he to the king, 'as you promised me seven
years and a day since.'
The king glanced at his wife, who nodded, so he answered:
'Let his mother first put him in order,' and the queen left the hall,
and took the cook's son and dressed him in the prince's clothes, and led
him up to the giant, who held his hand, and together they went out along
the road. They had not walked far when the giant stopped and stretched
out a stick to the boy.
'If your father had that stick, what would he do with it?' asked he.
'If my father had that stick, he would beat the dogs and cats that
steal the king's meat,' replied the boy.
'Thou art the cook's son!' cried the giant. 'Go home to thy mother;' and
turning his back he strode straight to the castle.
'If you seek to trick me this time, the highest stone will soon be the
lowest,' said he, and the king and queen trembled, but they could not
bear to give up their boy.
'The butler's son is the same age as ours,' whispered the queen; 'he
will not know the difference,' and she took the child and dressed him in
the prince's clothes, and the giant led him away along the road. Before
they had gone far he stopped, and held out a stick.
'If thy father had that rod, what would he do with it?' asked the giant.
'He would beat the dogs and cats that break the king's glasses,'
answered the boy.
'Thou art the son of the butler!' cried the giant. 'Go home to thy
mother;' and turning round he strode back angrily to the castle.
'Bring out thy son at once,' roared he, 'or the stone that is highest
will be lowest,' and this time the real prince was brought.
* * * * *
But though his parents wept bitterly and fancied the child was suffering
all kinds of dreadful things, the giant treated him like his own son,
though he never allowed him to see his daughters. The boy grew to be a
big boy, and one day the giant told him that he would have to amuse
himself alone for many hours, as he had a journey to make. So the boy
wandered by the river, and down to the sea, and at last he wandered to
the top of the castle, where he had never been before. There he paused,
for the sound of music broke upon his ears, and opening a door near him,
he beheld a girl sitting by the window, holding a harp.
'Haste and begone, I see the giant close at hand,' she whispered
hurriedly, 'but when he is asleep, return hither, for I would speak with
thee.' And the prince did as he was bid, and when midnight struck he
crept back to the top of the castle.
'To-morrow,' said the girl, who was the giant's daughter, 'to-morrow
thou wilt get the choice of my two sisters to marry, but thou must
answer that thou wilt not take either, but only me. This will anger him
greatly, for he wishes to betroth me to the son of the king of the Green
City, whom I like not at all.'
Then they parted, and on the morrow, as the girl had said, the giant
called his three daughters to him, and likewise the young prince, to
whom he spoke.
'Now, O son of the king of Tethertown, the time has come for us to part.
Choose one of my two elder daughters to wife, and thou shalt take her to
your father's house the day after the wedding.'
'Give me the youngest instead,' replied the youth, and the giant's face
darkened as he heard him.
'Three things must thou do first,' said he.
'Say on, I will do them,' replied the prince, and the giant left the
house, and bade him follow to the byre, where the cows were kept.
'For a hundred years no man has swept this byre,' said the giant, 'but
if by nightfall, when I reach home, thou hast not cleaned it so that a
golden apple can roll through it from end to end, thy blood shall pay
for it.'
* * * * *
All day long the youth toiled, but he might as well have tried to empty
the ocean. At length, when he was so tired he could hardly move, the
giant's youngest daughter stood in the doorway.
'Lay down thy weariness,' said she, and the king's son, thinking he
could only die once, sank on the floor at her bidding, and fell sound
asleep. When he woke the girl had disappeared, and the byre was so clean
that a golden apple could roll from end to end of it. He jumped up in
surprise, and at that moment in came the giant.
'Hast thou cleaned the byre, king's son?' asked he.
'I have cleaned it,' answered he.
'Well, since thou wert so active to-day, to-morrow thou wilt thatch this
byre with a feather from every different bird, or else thy blood shall
pay for it,' and he went out.
Before the sun was up, the youth took his bow and his quiver and set off
to kill the birds. Off to the moor he went, but never a bird was to be
seen that day. At last he got so tired with running to and fro that he
gave up heart.
'There is but one death I can die,' thought he. Then at midday came the
giant's daughter.
'Thou art tired, king's son?' said she.
'I am,' answered he; 'all these hours have I wandered, and there fell
but these two blackbirds, both of one colour.'
'Lay down thy weariness on the grass,' said she, and he did as she bade
him, and fell fast asleep.
When he woke the girl had disappeared, and he got up, and returned to
the byre. As he drew near, he rubbed his eyes hard, thinking he was
dreaming, for there it was, beautifully thatched, just as the giant had
wished. At the door of the house he met the giant.
'Hast thou thatched the byre, king's son?'
'I have thatched it.'
[Illustration: How the King's Son fetched the Magpie's Eggs]
'Well, since thou hast been so active to-day, I have something else for
thee! Beside the loch thou seest over yonder there grows a fir tree. On
the top of the fir tree is a magpie's nest, and in the nest are five
eggs. Thou wilt bring me those eggs for breakfast, and if one is cracked
or broken, thy blood shall pay for it.'
* * * * *
Before it was light next day, the king's son jumped out of bed and ran
down to the loch. The tree was not hard to find, for the rising sun
shone red on the trunk, which was five hundred feet from the ground to
its first branch. Time after time he walked round it, trying to find
some knots, however small, where he could put his feet, but the bark was
quite smooth, and he soon saw that if he was to reach the top at all, it
must be by climbing up with his knees like a sailor. But then he was a
king's son and not a sailor, which made all the difference.
However, it was no use standing there staring at the fir, at least he
must try to do his best, and try he did till his hands and knees were
sore, for as soon as he had struggled up a few feet, he slid back again.
Once he climbed a little higher than before, and hope rose in his heart,
then down he came with such force that his hands and knees smarted worse
than ever.
'This is no time for stopping,' said the voice of the giant's daughter,
as he leant against the trunk to recover his breath.
'Alas! I am no sooner up than down,' answered he.
'Try once more,' said she, and she laid a finger against the tree and
bade him put his foot on it. Then she placed another finger a little
higher up, and so on till he reached the top, where the magpie had built
her nest.
'Make haste now with the nest,' she cried, 'for my father's breath is
burning my back,' and down he scrambled as fast as he could, but the
girl's little finger had caught in a branch at the top, and she was
obliged to leave it there. But she was too busy to pay heed to this, for
the sun was getting high over the hills.
'Listen to me,' she said. 'This night my two sisters and I will be
dressed in the same garments, and you will not know me. But when my
father says 'Go to thy wife, king's son,' come to the one whose right
hand has no little finger.'
So he went and gave the eggs to the giant, who nodded his head.
'Make ready for thy marriage,' cried he, 'for the wedding shall take
place this very night, and I will summon thy bride to greet thee.' Then
his three daughters were sent for, and they all entered dressed in green
silk of the same fashion, and with golden circlets round their heads.
The king's son looked from one to another. _Which_ was the youngest?
Suddenly his eyes fell on the hand of the middle one, and there was no
little finger.
'Thou hast aimed well this time too,' said the giant, as the king's son
laid his hand on her shoulder, 'but perhaps we may meet some other way;'
and though he pretended to laugh, the bride saw a gleam in his eye which
warned her of danger.
The wedding took place that very night, and the hall was filled with
giants and gentlemen, and they danced till the house shook from top to
bottom. At last everyone grew tired, and the guests went away, and the
king's son and his bride were left alone.
'If we stay here till dawn my father will kill thee,' she whispered,
'but thou art my husband and I will save thee, as I did before,' and she
cut an apple into nine pieces, and put two pieces at the head of the
bed, and two pieces at the foot, and two pieces at the door of the
kitchen, and two at the big door, and one outside the house. And when
this was done, and she heard the giant snoring, she and the king's son
crept out softly and stole across to the stable, where she led out the
blue-grey mare and jumped on its back, and her husband mounted before
her. Not long after, the giant awoke.
'Are you asleep?' asked he.
'Not yet,' answered the apple at the head of the bed, and the giant
turned over, and soon was snoring as loudly as before. By and bye he
called again.
'Are you asleep?'
'Not yet,' said the apple at the foot of the bed, and the giant was
satisfied. After a while, he called a third time, 'Are you asleep?'
'Not yet,' replied the apple in the kitchen, but when, in a few minutes,
he put the question for the fourth time and received an answer from the
apple outside the house door, he guessed what had happened, and ran to
the room to look for himself.
The bed was cold and empty!
* * * * *
'My father's breath is burning my back,' cried the girl, 'put thy hand
into the ear of the mare, and whatever thou findest there, throw it
behind thee.' And in the mare's ear there was a twig of sloe tree, and
as he threw it behind him there sprung up twenty miles of thornwood so
thick that scarce a weasel could go through it. And the giant, who was
striding headlong forwards, got caught in it, and it pulled his hair and
beard.
'This is one of my daughter's tricks,' he said to himself, 'but if I had
my big axe and my wood-knife, I would not be long making a way through
this,' and off he went home and brought back the axe and the wood-knife.
It took him but a short time to cut a road through the blackthorn, and
then he laid the axe and the knife under a tree.
'I will leave them there till I return,' he murmured to himself, but a
hoodie crow, which was sitting on a branch above, heard him.
'If thou leavest them,' said the hoodie, 'we will steal them.'
'You will,' answered the giant, 'and I must take them home.' So he took
them home, and started afresh on his journey.
'My father's breath is burning my back,' cried the girl at midday. 'Put
thy finger in the mare's ear and throw behind thee whatever thou findest
in it,' and the king's son found a splinter of grey stone, and threw it
behind him, and in a twinkling twenty miles of solid rock lay between
them and the giant.
'My daughter's tricks are the hardest things that ever met me,' said the
giant, 'but if I had my lever and my crowbar, I would not be long in
making my way through this rock also,' but as he had _not_ got them, he
had to go home and fetch them. Then it took him but a short time to hew
his way through the rock.
'I will leave the tools here,' he murmured aloud when he had finished.
'If thou leavest them, we will steal them,' said a hoodie who was
perched on a stone above him, and the giant answered:
'Steal them if thou wilt; there is no time to go back.'
* * * * *
'My father's breath is burning my back,' cried the girl; 'look in the
mare's ear, king's son, or we are lost,' and he looked, and found a tiny
bladder full of water, which he threw behind him, and it became a great
loch. And the giant, who was striding on so fast, could not stop
himself, and he walked right into the middle and was drowned.
The blue-grey mare galloped on like the wind, and the next day the
king's son came in sight of his father's house.
'Get down and go in,' said the bride, 'and tell them that thou hast
married me. But take heed that neither man nor beast kiss thee, for then
thou wilt cease to remember me at all.'
'I will do thy bidding,' answered he, and left her at the gate. All who
met him bade him welcome, and he charged his father and mother not to
kiss him, but as he greeted them his old greyhound leapt on his neck,
and kissed him on the mouth. And after that he did not remember the
giant's daughter.
All that day she sat on a well which was near the gate, waiting,
waiting, but the king's son never came. In the darkness she climbed up
into an oak tree that shadowed the well, and there she lay all night,
waiting, waiting.
On the morrow, at midday, the wife of a shoemaker who dwelt near the
well went to draw water for her husband to drink, and she saw the shadow
of the girl in the tree, and thought it was her own shadow.
[Illustration: So the Giant Was Drowned in the MIDDLE OF THE LAKE]
'How handsome I am, to be sure,' said she, gazing into the well, and as
she stooped to behold herself better, the jug struck against the stones
and broke in pieces, and she was forced to return to her husband without
the water, and this angered him.
'Thou hast turned crazy,' said he in wrath. 'Go thou, my daughter, and
fetch me a drink,' and the girl went, and the same thing befell her as
had befallen her mother.
'Where is the water?' asked the shoemaker, when she came back, and as
she held nothing save the handle of the jug he went to the well himself.
He too saw the reflection of the woman in the tree, but looked up to
discover whence it came, and there above him sat the most beautiful
woman in the world.
'Come down,' he said, 'for a while thou canst stay in my house,' and
glad enough the girl was to come.
Now the king of the country was about to marry, and the young men about
the court thronged the shoemaker's shop to buy fine shoes to wear at the
wedding.
'Thou hast a pretty daughter,' said they when they beheld the girl
sitting at work.
'Pretty she is,' answered the shoemaker, 'but no daughter of mine.'
'I would give a hundred pounds to marry her,' said one.
'And I,' 'And I,' cried the others.
'That is no business of mine,' answered the shoemaker, and the young men
bade him ask her if she would choose one of them for a husband, and to
tell them on the morrow. Then the shoemaker asked her, and the girl said
that she would marry the one who would bring his purse with him. So the
shoemaker hurried to the youth who had first spoken, and he came back,
and after giving the shoemaker a hundred pounds for his news, he sought
the girl, who was waiting for him.
'Is it thou?' inquired she. 'I am thirsty, give me a drink from the well
that is out yonder.' And he poured out the water, but he could not move
from the place where he was; and there he stayed till many hours had
passed by.
'Take away that foolish boy,' cried the girl to the shoemaker at last,
'I am tired of him,' and then suddenly he was able to walk, and betook
himself to his home, but he did not tell the others what had happened to
him.
Next day there arrived one of the other young men, and in the evening,
when the shoemaker had gone out and they were alone, she said to him,
'See if the latch is on the door.' The young man hastened to do her
bidding, but as soon as he touched the latch, his fingers stuck to it,
and there he had to stay for many hours, till the shoemaker came back,
and the girl let him go. Hanging his head, he went home, but he told no
one what had befallen him.
Then was the turn of the third man, and _his_ foot remained fastened to
the floor, till the girl unloosed it. And thankfully he ran off, and was
not seen looking behind him.
* * * * *
'Take the purse of gold,' said the girl to the shoemaker, 'I have no
need of it, and it will better thee.' And the shoemaker took it and told
the girl he must carry the shoes for the wedding up to the castle.
'I would fain get a sight of the king's son before he marries,' sighed
she.
'Come with me, then,' answered he; 'the servants are all my friends, and
they will let you stand in the passage down which the king's son will
pass, and all the company too.'
Up they went to the castle, and when the young men saw the girl standing
there, they led her into the hall where the banquet was laid out and
poured her out some wine. She was just raising the glass to drink when a
flame went up out of it, and out of the flame sprang two pigeons, one of
gold and one of silver. They flew round and round the head of the girl,
when three grains of barley fell on the floor, and the silver pigeon
dived down, and swallowed them.
'If thou hadst remembered how I cleaned the byre, thou wouldst have
given me my share,' cooed the golden pigeon, and as he spoke three more
grains fell, and the silver pigeon ate them as before.
'If thou hadst remembered how I thatched the byre, thou wouldst have
given me my share,' cooed the golden pigeon again; and as he spoke three
more grains fell, and for the third time they were eaten by the silver
pigeon.
'If thou hadst remembered how I got the magpie's nest, thou wouldst have
given me my share,' cooed the golden pigeon.
Then the king's son understood that they had come to remind him of what
he had forgotten, and his lost memory came back, and he knew his wife,
and kissed her. But as the preparations had been made, it seemed a pity
to waste them, so they were married a second time, and sat down to the
wedding feast.