In bygone days there was something in Närke the like of which was not to
be found elsewhere: it was a witch, named Ysätter-Kaisa.
The name Kaisa had been given her because she had a good deal to do with
wind and storm--and these wind witches are always so called. The surname
was added because she was supposed to have come from Ysätter swamp in
Asker parish.
It seemed as though her real abode must have been at Asker; but she used
also to appear at other places. Nowhere in all Närke could one be sure
of not meeting her.
She was no dark, mournful witch, but gay and frolicsome; and what she
loved most of all was a gale of wind. As soon as there was wind enough,
off she would fly to the Närke plain for a good dance. On days when a
whirlwind swept the plain, Ysätter-Kaisa had fun! She would stand right
in the wind and spin round, her long hair flying up among the clouds and
the long trail of her robe sweeping the ground, like a dust cloud, while
the whole plain lay spread out under her, like a ballroom floor.
Of a morning Ysätter-Kaisa would sit up in some tall pine at the top of
a precipice, and look across the plain. If it happened to be winter and
she saw many teams on the roads she hurriedly blew up a blizzard, piling
the drifts so high that people could barely get back to their homes by
evening. If it chanced to be summer and good harvest weather,
Ysätter-Kaisa would sit quietly until the first hayricks had been
loaded, then down she would come with a couple of heavy showers, which
put an end to the work for that day.
It was only too true that she seldom thought of anything else than
raising mischief. The charcoal burners up in the Kil mountains hardly
dared take a cat-nap, for as soon as she saw an unwatched kiln, she
stole up and blew on it until it began to burn in a great flame. If the
metal drivers from Laxå and Svartå were out late of an evening,
Ysätter-Kaisa would veil the roads and the country round about in such
dark clouds that both men and horses lost their way and drove the heavy
trucks down into swamps and morasses.
If, on a summer's day, the dean's wife at Glanshammar had spread the tea
table in the garden and along would come a gust of wind that lifted the
cloth from the table and turned over cups and saucers, they knew who had
raised the mischief! If the mayor of Örebro's hat blew off, so that he
had to run across the whole square after it; if the wash on the line
blew away and got covered with dirt, or if the smoke poured into the
cabins and seemed unable to find its way out through the chimney, it was
easy enough to guess who was out making merry!
Although Ysätter-Kaisa was fond of all sorts of tantalizing games, there
was nothing really bad about her. One could see that she was hardest on
those who were quarrelsome, stingy, or wicked; while honest folk and
poor little children she would take under her wing. Old people say of
her that, once, when Asker church was burning, Ysätter-Kaisa swept
through the air, lit amid fire and smoke on the church roof, and averted
the disaster.
All the same the Närke folk were often rather tired of Ysätter-Kaisa,
but she never tired of playing her tricks on them. As she sat on the
edge of a cloud and looked down upon Närke, which rested so peacefully
and comfortably beneath her, she must have thought: "The inhabitants
would fare much too well if I were not in existence. They would grow
sleepy and dull. There must be some one like myself to rouse them and
keep them in good spirits."
Then she would laugh wildly and, chattering like a magpie, would rush
off, dancing and spinning from one end of the plain to the other. When a
Närke man saw her come dragging her dust trail over the plain, he could
not help smiling. Provoking and tiresome she certainly was, but she had
a merry spirit. It was just as refreshing for the peasants to meet
Ysätter-Kaisa as it was for the plain to be lashed by the windstorm.
Nowadays 'tis said that Ysätter-Kaisa is dead and gone, like all other
witches, but this one can hardly believe. It is as if some one were to
come and tell you that henceforth the air would always be still on the
plain, and the wind would never more dance across it with blustering
breezes and drenching showers.
He who fancies that Ysätter-Kaisa is dead and gone may as well hear what
occurred in Närke the year that Nils Holgersson travelled over that part
of the country. Then let him tell what he thinks about it.