VITTSKÖVLE

_Saturday, March twenty-sixth_.

Two days later, another strange thing happened. A flock of wild geese

came flying one morning, and lit on a meadow down in Eastern Skåne not

very far from Vittskövle manor. In the flock were thirteen wild geese,

of the usual gray variety, and one white goosey-gander, who carried on

his back a tiny lad dressed in yellow leather breeches, green vest, and

a white woollen toboggan hood.

They were now very near the Eastern sea; and on the meadow where the

geese had alighted the soil was sandy, as it usually is on the

sea-coast. It looked as if, formerly, there had been flying sand in this

vicinity which had to be held down; for in several directions large,

planted pine-woods could be seen.

When the wild geese had been feeding a while, several children came

along, and walked on the edge of the meadow. The goose who was on guard

at once raised herself into the air with noisy wing-strokes, so the

whole flock should hear that there was danger on foot. All the wild

geese flew upward; but the white one trotted along on the ground

unconcerned. When he saw the others fly he raised his head and called

after them: "You needn't fly away from these! They are only a couple of

children!"

The little creature who had been riding on his back, sat down upon a

knoll on the outskirts of the wood and picked a pine-cone in pieces,

that he might get at the seeds. The children were so close to him that

he did not dare to run across the meadow to the white one. He concealed

himself under a big, dry thistle-leaf, and at the same time gave a

warning-cry. But the white one had evidently made up his mind not to let

himself be scared. He walked along on the ground all the while; and not

once did he look to see in what direction they were going.

Meanwhile, they turned from the path, walked across the field, getting

nearer and nearer to the goosey-gander. When he finally did look up,

they were right upon him. He was so dumfounded, and became so confused,

he forgot that he could fly, and tried to get out of their reach by

running. But the children followed, chasing him into a ditch, and there

they caught him. The larger of the two stuck him under his arm and

carried him off.

When the boy, who lay under the thistle-leaf saw this, he sprang up as

if he wanted to take the goosey-gander away from them; then he must have

remembered how little and powerless he was, for he threw himself on the

knoll and beat upon the ground with his clenched fists.

The goosey-gander cried with all his might for help: "Thumbietot, come

and help me! Oh, Thumbietot, come and help me!" The boy began to laugh

in the midst of his distress. "Oh, yes! I'm just the right one to help

anybody, I am!" said he.

Anyway he got up and followed the goosey-gander. "I can't help him,"

said he, "but I shall at least find out where they are taking him."

The children had a good start; but the boy had no difficulty in keeping

them within sight until they came to a hollow where a brook gushed

forth. But here he was obliged to run alongside of it for some little

time, before he could find a place narrow enough for him to jump over.

When he came up from the hollow the children had disappeared. He could

see their footprints on a narrow path which led to the woods, and these

he continued to follow.

Soon he came to a cross-road. Here the children must have separated, for

there were footprints in two directions. The boy looked now as if all

hope had fled. Then he saw a little white down on a heather-knoll, and

he understood that the goosey-gander had dropped this by the wayside to

let him know in which direction he had been carried; and therefore he

continued his search. He followed the children through the entire wood.

The goosey-gander he did not see; but wherever he was likely to miss his

way, lay a little white down to put him right.

The boy continued faithfully to follow the bits of down. They led him

out of the wood, across a couple of meadows, up on a road, and finally

through the entrance of a broad _allée_. At the end of the _allée_ there

were gables and towers of red tiling, decorated with bright borders and

other ornamentations that glittered and shone. When the boy saw that

this was some great manor, he thought he knew what had become of the

goosey-gander. "No doubt the children have carried the goosey-gander to

the manor and sold him there. By this time he's probably butchered," he

said to himself. But he did not seem to be satisfied with anything less

than proof positive, and with renewed courage he ran forward. He met no

one in the _allée_--and that was well, for such as he are generally

afraid of being seen by human beings.

The mansion which he came to was a splendid, old-time structure with

four great wings which inclosed a courtyard. On the east wing, there was

a high arch leading into the courtyard. This far the boy ran without

hesitation, but when he got there he stopped. He dared not venture

farther, but stood still and pondered what he should do now.

There he stood, with his finger on his nose, thinking, when he heard

footsteps behind him; and as he turned around he saw a whole company

march up the _allée_. In haste he stole behind a water-barrel which

stood near the arch, and hid himself.

Those who came up were some twenty young men from a folk-high-school,

out on a walking tour. They were accompanied by one of the instructors.

When they were come as far as the arch, the teacher requested them to

wait there a moment, while he went in and asked if they might see the

old castle of Vittskövle.

The newcomers were warm and tired; as if they had been on a long tramp.

One of them was so thirsty that he went over to the water-barrel and

stooped down to drink. He had a tin box such as botanists use hanging

about his neck. He evidently thought that this was in his way, for he

threw it down on the ground. With this, the lid flew open, and one could

see that there were a few spring flowers in it.

The botanist's box dropped just in front of the boy; and he must have

thought that here was his opportunity to get into the castle and find

out what had become of the goosey-gander. He smuggled himself quickly

into the box and concealed himself as well as he could under the

anemones and colt's-foot.

He was hardly hidden before the young man picked the box up, hung it

around his neck, and slammed down the cover.

Then the teacher came back, and said that they had been given

permission to enter the castle. At first he conducted them no farther

than the courtyard. There he stopped and began to talk to them about

this ancient structure.

He called their attention to the first human beings who had inhabited

this country, and who had been obliged to live in mountain-grottoes and

earth-caves; in the dens of wild beasts, and in the brushwood; and that

a very long period had elapsed before they learned to build themselves

huts from the trunks of trees. And afterward how long had they not been

forced to labour and struggle, before they had advanced from the log

cabin, with its single room, to the building of a castle with a hundred

rooms--like Vittskövle!

It was about three hundred and fifty years ago that the rich and

powerful built such castles for themselves, he said. It was very evident

that Vittskövle had been erected at a time when wars and robbers made it

unsafe in Skåne. All around the castle was a deep trench filled with

water; and across this there had been a bridge in bygone days that could

be hoisted up. Over the gate-arch there is, even to this day, a

watch-tower; and all along the sides of the castle ran sentry-galleries,

and in the corners stood towers with walls a metre thick. Yet the castle

had not been erected in the most savage war time; for Jens Brahe, who

built it, had also studied to make of it a beautiful and decorative

ornament. If they could see the big, solid stone structure at Glimminge,

which had been built only a generation earlier, they would readily see

that Jans Holgersen Ulfstand, the builder, hadn't figured upon anything

else--only to build big and strong and secure, without bestowing a

thought upon making it beautiful and comfortable. If they visited such

castles as Marsvinsholm, Snogeholm and Övid's Cloister--which were

erected a hundred years or so later--they would find that the times had

become less warlike. The gentlemen who built these places, had not

furnished them with fortifications; but had only taken pains to provide

themselves with great, splendid dwelling houses.

The teacher talked at length--and in detail; and the boy who lay shut up

in the box was pretty impatient; but he must have lain very still, for

the owner of the box hadn't the least suspicion that he was carrying him

along.

Finally the company went into the castle. But if the boy had hoped for

a chance to crawl out of that box, he was deceived; for the student

carried it upon him all the while, and the boy was obliged to accompany

him through all the rooms. It was a tedious tramp. The teacher stopped

every other minute to explain and instruct.

In one room he found an old fireplace, and before this he stopped to

talk about the different kinds of fireplaces that had been used in the

course of time. The first indoors fireplace had been a big, flat stone

on the floor of the hut, with an opening in the roof which let in both

wind and rain. The next had been a big stone hearth with no opening in

the roof. This must have made the hut very warm, but it also filled it

with soot and smoke. When Vittskövle was built, the people had advanced

far enough to open the fireplace, which, at that time, had a wide

chimney for the smoke; but it also took most of the warmth up in the air

with it.

If that boy had ever in his life been cross and impatient, he was given

a good lesson in patience that day. It must have been a whole hour now

that he had lain perfectly still.

In the next room they came to, the teacher stopped before an old-time

bed with its high canopy and rich curtains. Immediately he began to talk

about the beds and bed places of olden days.

The teacher didn't hurry himself; but then he did not know, of course,

that a poor little creature lay shut up in a botanist's box, and only

waited for him to get through. When they came to a room with gilded

leather hangings, he talked to them about how the people had dressed

their walls and ceilings ever since the beginning of time. And when he

came to an old family portrait, he told them all about the different

changes in dress. And in the banquet halls he described ancient customs

of celebrating weddings and funerals.

Thereupon, the teacher talked a little about the excellent men and women

who had lived in the castle; about the old Brahes, and the old

Barnekows; of Christian Barnekow, who had given his horse to the king to

help him escape; of Margareta Ascheberg who had been married to Kjell

Barnekow and who, when a widow, had managed the estates and the whole

district for fifty-three years; of banker Hageman, a farmer's son from

Vittskövle, who had grown so rich that he had bought the entire estate;

about the Stjernsvärds, who had given the people of Skåne better

ploughs, which enabled them to discard the ridiculous old wooden ploughs

that three oxen were hardly able to drag. During all this, the boy lay

still. If he had ever been mischievous and shut the cellar door on his

father or mother, he understood now how they had felt; for it was hours

and hours before that teacher got through.

At last the teacher went out into the courtyard again. And there he

discoursed upon the tireless labour of mankind to procure for themselves

tools and weapons, clothes and houses and ornaments. He said that such

an old castle as Vittskövle was a mile-post on time's highway. Here one

could see how far the people had advanced three hundred and fifty years

ago; and one could judge for oneself whether things had gone forward or

backward since their time.

But this dissertation the boy escaped hearing; for the student who

carried him was thirsty again, and stole into the kitchen to ask for a

drink of water. When the boy was carried into the kitchen, he should

have tried to look around for the goosey-gander. He had begun to move;

and as he did this, he happened to press too hard against the lid--and

it flew open. As botanists' box-lids are always flying open, the student

thought no more about the matter but pressed it down again. Then the

cook asked him if he had a snake in the box.

"No, I have only a few plants," the student replied. "It was certainly

something that moved there," insisted the cook. The student threw back

the lid to show her that she was mistaken. "See for yourself--if--"

But he got no further, for now the boy dared not stay in the box any

longer, but with one bound he stood on the floor, and out he rushed.

The maids hardly had time to see what it was that ran, but they hurried

after it, nevertheless.

The teacher still stood and talked when he was interrupted by shrill

cries. "Catch him, catch him!" shrieked those who had come from the

kitchen; and all the young men raced after the boy, who glided away

faster than a rat. They tried to intercept him at the gate, but it was

not so easy to get a hold on such a little creature, so, luckily, he got

out in the open.

The boy did not dare to run down toward the open _allée,_ but turned in

another direction. He rushed through the garden into the back yard. All

the while the people raced after him, shrieking and laughing. The poor

little thing ran as hard as ever he could to get out of their way; but

still it looked as though the people would catch up with him.

As he rushed past a labourer's cottage, he heard a goose cackle, and saw

a white down lying on the doorstep. There, at last, was the

goosey-gander! He had been on the wrong track before. He thought no more

of housemaids and men, who were hounding him, but climbed up the

steps--and into the hallway. Farther he couldn't come, for the door was

locked. He heard how the goosey-gander cried and moaned inside, but he

couldn't get the door open. The hunters that were pursuing him came

nearer and nearer, and, in the room, the goosey-gander cried more and

more pitifully. In this direst of needs the boy finally plucked up

courage and pounded on the door with all his might.

A child opened it, and the boy looked into the room. In the middle of

the floor sat a woman who held the goosey-gander tight to clip his

quill-feathers. It was her children who had found him, and she didn't

want to do him any harm. It was her intention to let him in among her

own geese, had she only succeeded in clipping his wings so he couldn't

fly away. But a worse fate could hardly have happened to the

goosey-gander, and he shrieked and moaned with all his might.

And a lucky thing it was that the woman hadn't started the clipping

sooner. Now only two quills had fallen under the shears' when the door

was opened--and the boy stood on the door-sill. But a creature like

that the woman had never seen before. She couldn't believe anything else

but that it was Goa-Nisse himself; and in her terror she dropped the

shears, clasped her hands--and forgot to hold on to the goosey-gander.

As soon as he felt himself freed, he ran toward the door. He didn't give

himself time to stop; but, as he ran past him, he grabbed the boy by the

neck-band and carried him along with him. On the stoop he spread his

wings and flew up in the air; at the same time he made a graceful sweep

with his neck and seated the boy on his smooth, downy back.

And off they flew--while all Vittskövle stood and stared after them.