_Friday, April twenty-second_.
One night when the boy lay and slept on an island in Takern, he was
awakened by oar-strokes. He had hardly gotten his eyes open before there
fell such a dazzling light on them that he began to blink.
At first he couldn't make out what it was that shone so brightly out
here on the lake; but he soon saw that a scow with a big burning torch
stuck up on a spike, aft, lay near the edge of the reeds. The red flame
from the torch was clearly reflected in the night-dark lake; and the
brilliant light must have lured the fish, for round about the flame in
the deep a mass of dark specks were seen, that moved continually, and
changed places.
There were two old men in the scow. One sat at the oars, and the other
stood on a bench in the stern and held in his hand a short spear which
was coarsely barbed. The one who rowed was apparently a poor fisherman.
He was small, dried-up and weather-beaten, and wore a thin, threadbare
coat. One could see that he was so used to being out in all sorts of
weather that he didn't mind the cold. The other was well fed and well
dressed, and looked like a prosperous and self-complacent farmer.
"Now, stop!" said the farmer, when they were opposite the island where
the boy lay. At the same time he plunged the spear into the water. When
he drew it out again, a long, fine eel came with it.
"Look at that!" said he as he released the eel from the spear. "That was
one who was worth while. Now I think we have so many that we can turn
back."
His comrade did not lift the oars, but sat and looked around. "It is
lovely out here on the lake to-night," said he. And so it was. It was
absolutely still, so that the entire water-surface lay in undisturbed
rest with the exception of the streak where the boat had gone forward.
This lay like a path of gold, and shimmered in the firelight. The sky
was clear and dark blue and thickly studded with stars. The shores were
hidden by the reed islands except toward the west. There Mount Omberg
loomed up high and dark, much more impressive than usual, and, cut away
a big, three-cornered piece of the vaulted heavens.
The other one turned his head to get the light out of his eyes, and
looked about him. "Yes, it is lovely here in Östergylln," said he.
"Still the best thing about the province is not its beauty." "Then what
is it that's best?" asked the oarsman. "That it has always been a
respected and honoured province." "That may be true enough." "And then
this, that one knows it will always continue to be so." "But how in the
world can one know this?" said the one who sat at the oars.
The farmer straightened up where he stood and braced himself with the
spear. "There is an old story which has been handed down from father to
son in my family; and in it one learns what will happen to
Östergötland." "Then you may as well tell it to me," said the oarsman.
"We do not tell it to anyone and everyone, but I do not wish to keep it
a secret from an old comrade.
"At Ulvåsa, here in Östergötland," he continued (and one could tell by
the tone of his voice that he talked of something which he had heard
from others, and knew by heart), "many, many years ago, there lived a
lady who had the gift of looking into the future, and telling people
what was going to happen to them--just as certainly and accurately as
though it had already occurred. For this she became widely noted; and it
is easy to understand that people would come to her, both from far and
near, to find out what they were going to pass through of good or evil.
"One day, when Ulvåsa-lady sat in her hall and spun, as was customary in
former days, a poor peasant came into the room and seated himself on the
bench near the door.
"'I wonder what you are sitting and thinking about, dear lady,' said the
peasant after a little.
"'I am sitting and thinking about high and holy things,' answered she.
'Then it is not fitting, perhaps, that I ask you about something which
weighs on my heart,' said the peasant.
"'It is probably nothing else that weighs on your heart than that you
may reap much grain on your field. But I am accustomed to receive
communications from the Emperor about how it will go with his crown; and
from the Pope, about how it will go with his keys.' 'Such things cannot
be easy to answer,' said the peasant. 'I have also heard that no one
seems to go from here without being dissatisfied with what he has
heard.'
"When the peasant said this, he saw that Ulvåsa-lady bit her lip, and
moved higher up on the bench. 'So this is what you have heard about me,'
said she. 'Then you may as well tempt fortune by asking me about the
thing you wish to know; and you shall see if I can answer so that you
will be satisfied.'
"After this the peasant did not hesitate to state his errand. He said
that he had come to ask how it would go with Östergötland in the future.
There was nothing which was so dear to him as his native province, and
he felt that he should be happy until his dying day if he could get a
satisfactory reply to his query.
"'Oh! is that all you wish to know,' said the wise lady; 'then I think
that you will be content. For here where I now sit, I can tell you that
it will be like this with Östergötland: it will always have something to
boast of ahead of other provinces.'
"'Yes, that was a good answer, dear lady,' said the peasant, 'and now I
would be entirely at peace if I could only comprehend how such a thing
should be possible.'
"'Why should it not be possible?' said Ulvåsa-lady. 'Don't you know that
Östergötland is already renowned? Or think you there is any place in
Sweden that can boast of owning, at the same time, two such cloisters as
the ones in Alvastra and Vreta, and such a beautiful cathedral as the
one in Linköping?'
"'That may be so,' said the peasant. 'But I'm an old man, and I know
that people's minds are changeable. I fear that there will come a time
when they won't want to give us any glory, either for Alvastra or Vreta
or for the cathedral.'
"'Herein you may be right,' said Ulvåsa-lady, 'but you need not doubt
prophecy on that account. I shall now build up a new cloister on
Vadstena, and that will become the most celebrated in the North. Thither
both the high and the lowly shall make pilgrimages, and all shall sing
the praises of the province because it has such a holy place within its
confines.'
"The peasant replied that he was right glad to know this. But he also
knew, of course, that everything was perishable; and he wondered much
what would give distinction to the province, if Vadstena Cloister should
once fall into disrepute.
"'You are not easy to satisfy,' said Ulvåsa-lady, 'but surely I can see
so far ahead that I can tell you, before Vadstena Cloister shall have
lost its splendour, there will be a castle erected close by, which will
be the most magnificent of its period. Kings and dukes will be guests
there, and it shall be accounted an honour to the whole province, that
it owns such an ornament.'
"'This I am also glad to hear,' said the peasant. 'But I'm an old man,
and I know how it generally turns out with this world's glories. And if
the castle goes to ruin, I wonder much what there will be that can
attract the people's attention to this province.'
"'It's not a little that you want to know,' said Ulvåsa-lady, 'but,
certainly, I can look far enough into the future to see that there will
be life and movement in the forests around Finspång. I see how cabins
and smithies arise there, and I believe that the whole province shall
be renowned because iron will be moulded within its confines.'
"The peasant didn't deny that he was delighted to hear this. 'But if it
should go so badly that even Finspång's foundry went down in importance,
then it would hardly be possible that any new thing could arise of which
Östergötland might boast.'
"'You are not easy to please,' said Ulvåsa-lady, 'but I can see so far
into the future that I mark how, along the lake-shores, great
manors--large as castles--are built by gentlemen who have carried on
wars in foreign lands. I believe that the manors will bring the province
just as much honour as anything else that I have mentioned.'
"'But if there comes a time when no one lauds the great manors?'
insisted the peasant.
"'You need not be uneasy at all events,' said Ulvåsa-lady. I see how
health-springs bubble on Medevi meadows, by Vätter's shores. I believe
that the wells at Medevi will bring the land as much praise as you can
desire.'
"'That is a mighty good thing to know,' said the peasant. 'But if there
comes a time when people will seek their health at other springs?'
"'You must not give yourself any anxiety on that account,' answered
Ulvåsa-lady. I see how people dig and labour, from Motala to Mem. They
dig a canal right through the country, and then Östergötland's praise is
again on everyone's lips.'
"But, nevertheless, the peasant looked distraught.
"'I see that the rapids in Motala stream begin to draw wheels,' said
Ulvåsa-lady--and now two bright red spots came to her cheeks, for she
began to be impatient--'I hear hammers resound in Motala, and looms
clatter in Norrköping.'
"'Yes, that's good to know,' said the peasant, 'but everything is
perishable, and I'm afraid that even this can be forgotten, and go into
oblivion.'
"When the peasant was not satisfied even now, there was an end to the
lady's patience. 'You say that everything is perishable,' said she, 'but
now I shall still name something which will always be like itself; and
that is that such arrogant and pig-headed peasants as you will always
be found in this province--until the end of time.'
"Hardly had Ulvåsa-lady said this before the peasant rose--happy and
satisfied--and thanked her for a good answer. Now, at last, he was
satisfied, he said.
"'Verily, I understand now how you look at it,' then said Ulvåsa-lady.
"'Well, I look at it in this way, dear lady,' said the peasant, 'that
everything which kings and priests and noblemen and merchants build and
accomplish, can only endure for a few years. But when you tell me that
in Östergötland there will always be peasants who are honour-loving and
persevering, then I know also that it will be able to keep its ancient
glory. For it is only those who go bent under the eternal labour with
the soil, who can hold this land in good repute and honour--from one
time to another.'"