The Hero of Esthonia and Other Studies in the Romantic Literature of That Country Part 14

We must fly this very night, or we are lost. Take an axe, and strike off the head of the white-headed calf with a heavy blow, and then split the skull in two with a second stroke. In the brain of the calf you will find a s.h.i.+ning red reel, which you must bring me. I will arrange whatever else is needful." The prince thought, "I would rather kill an innocent calf than sacrifice both myself and this dear girl, and if our flight succeeds, I shall see my home once more. The peas I sowed must have sprung up by this time, so that we cannot miss our way."

He went into the stall, and found the cow and the calf lying asleep near together, and they slept so fast that they did not hear his approach.

But when he struck off the calf's head, the cow groaned very loud, as if she had had a bad dream. He hastened to split the calf's skull with the second blow, and lo! the whole stall suddenly became as light as if it was day. The red reel fell out of the brain, and shone like a little sun. The prince wrapped it carefully in a cloth, and hid it in his bosom. It was fortunate that the cow did not wake, or she would have begun to roar so loud that she might easily have roused her master too.

The prince found the maiden waiting for him at the gate with a small bundle on her arm. "Where is the reel?" she whispered. "Here," replied the prince, and gave it to her. "Now we must hasten our flight," said she, and she unravelled a small part of the reel from the cloth that its s.h.i.+ning light might illuminate the darkness of the way like a lantern.

As the prince had expected, the peas had all sprung up, so that they could not miss the way. The maiden then told the prince that she had once overheard a conversation between the old man and his grandmother, and had learned that she was a princess whom the Old Boy had stolen from her parents by a trick. The prince knew the real state of the case better, but kept silence, rejoicing inwardly that he had succeeded in freeing the poor girl. The travellers must have gone a long way before the day began to break.

The Old Boy did not wake till late In the morning, and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes for a long time before he remembered that he was going to devour the couple. After waiting for them a good while he said to himself, "Perhaps they haven't quite finished their preparations for the wedding." But at last he got tired of waiting so long, and shouted out, "Ahoy, man and maid, what has become of you?" He repeated the cry several times, shouting and cursing, but neither man nor maid appeared.

At last he scrambled out of bed in a rage, and went in search of the defaulters. But he found the house empty, and discovered, too, that the beds had not been slept in. Then he rushed into the stall, and when he saw the calf slaughtered and the magic reel stolen, he comprehended all.

He cursed till everything was black, and opened the third spirit-house, sending his messengers forth to seek the fugitives. "Bring me them just as you find them, for I must have them," said the Old Boy, and the spirits flew forth like the wind.

The fugitives were just crossing a great plain, when the maiden suddenly stopped and said, "All is not as it should be. The reel moves in my hand, and we are certainly pursued." When they looked back, they saw a black cloud rus.h.i.+ng towards them with great speed. Then the maiden turned the reel thrice in her hand and said:

"Hear me, reel, and reel, O hearken; Fain would I become a streamlet, Where as fish my lover's swimming."

Instantly they were both transformed. The maiden flowed away like a brook, and the prince swam in the water like a little fish. The spirits rushed past, and turned after a time, and flew back home; but they did not touch the brook or the fish. As soon as the pursuers were gone, the brook became a maiden, and the fish a youth, and they continued their journey in human form.

When the spirits returned, weary and empty-handed, the Old Boy asked if they had not noticed anything unusual on their journey.

"Nothing at all," they answered, "but a brook on the plain, with a single fish swimming in it."

The old man growled angrily, "There they were! there they were!"

Immediately he threw open the doors of the fifth pen and let out the spirits, commanding them to drink up the water of the brook, and to capture the fish; and the spirits flew off like the wind.

The travellers were just approaching the edge of a wood, when the maiden stopped, saying, "All is not as it should be. The reel moves again in my hand." They looked round, and saw another cloud in the sky, darker than the first, and with red borders. "These are our pursuers," she cried, and turned the reel three times round in her hand, saying:

"Hear me, reel, and reel, O hear me; Change us both upon the instant: I'll become a wild rose-briar, And my love a rose upon it."

Instantly the maiden was changed into a wild rose-bush, and the youth hung upon it in the form of a rose. The spirits rushed away over their heads, and did not return for some time; but they saw nothing of the brook and the fish, and they did not trouble about the wild rose-tree.

As soon as their pursuers were gone, the rose-tree and the rose again became a maiden and a youth, and after their short rest they hurried away.

"Have you found them?" cried the old man, when the spirits returned and crouched before him.

"No," answered their leader; "we found neither brook nor fish on the plain."

"Did you see nothing else remarkable on the way?" asked their master.

The leader answered, "We saw nothing but a wild rose-bush on the edge of the wood, with a single rose upon it." "Fools!" cried the old man, "there they were! there they were!" He threw open the door of the seventh pen, and sent out his most powerful spirits to search for the fugitives. "Bring them me just as you find them, for I must have them, dead or alive. Tear up the accursed rose-tree by the roots, and bring everything else with you that looks strange." And the spirits rushed forth like a tempest.

The fugitives were just resting in the shade of a wood, and strengthening themselves for further efforts with food and drink.

Suddenly the maiden cried out, "All is not right, for the reel feels as if it was being pulled from my bosom. We are certainly again pursued, and the danger is close at hand, but the wood still hides us from our enemies." Then she took the reel from her bosom, and turned it over three times in her hand, saying:

"Hear me reel, and reel, O hear me; To a puff of wind transform me, To a gnat transform my lover."

Instantly they were both transformed, and the maiden rose into the air as a puff of wind, and the prince sported in the breeze like a gnat. The mighty host of spirits swept over them like a tempest, and returned some time afterwards, as they could neither find the rose-bush nor anything else remarkable. But they were hardly gone before the youth and the maiden resumed their proper forms, and the maiden cried out, "Now we must make haste, before the old man himself comes to look for us, for he would know us under any disguise."

They ran on for some distance till they reached the dark pa.s.sage, which they could easily climb up by the bright light of the reel. They were breathless and exhausted when they reached the great rock; when the maiden again turned the reel three times round, saying:

"Hear me, reel, and reel, O hear me; Let the rock aside be lifted, And a portal opened for us."

Instantly the rock was lifted, and they found themselves once more upon the earth. "G.o.d be praised," cried the maiden, "we are saved. The Old Boy has no further power over us here, and we can guard against his cunning. But now, my friend, we must part. Do you go to your parents, and I will go to mine." "By no means," replied the prince, "I cannot part from you, and you must come with me, and become my wife. You have pa.s.sed days of sorrow with me, and now it is only right that we should enjoy days of happiness together." The maiden resisted for a time, but at last she consented to accompany the youth.

They met with a woodcutter in the wood, who told them that there was great trouble in the palace and throughout the whole country, because of the unaccountable disappearance of the king's son, every trace of whom had been lost for years.[116] The maiden made use of the magic reel to provide the prince with suitable robes in which to present himself to his father. Meanwhile she stayed behind in a peasant's cottage, till the prince should have informed his father of his adventures.[117]

But the old king had died before the prince's arrival, for trouble at the loss of his only son had shortened his life. On his death-bed he repented bitterly of his thoughtless promise, and of his treachery in delivering a poor innocent maiden to the old rascal, for which G.o.d had punished him by the loss of his son. The prince mourned for the death of his father, as befitted a good son, and buried him with great honours.

Then he mourned for three days, refusing all food and drink. On the fourth morning he presented himself to the people as their new ruler, a.s.sembled his councillors, and related to them the wonderful things that he had seen and experienced in the Old Boy's dwelling, and did not forget to say how the clever maiden had saved his life. Then the councillors all exclaimed with one voice, "She must become your consort and our queen."

When the young king set out to seek his bride, he was much surprised to meet the maiden advancing in regal state. The magic reel had provided her with everything that was necessary, and all the people supposed that she must be the daughter of some very wealthy king, and came from a distant country. Then the wedding festivities commenced, which lasted four weeks, and they lived together in happiness and prosperity for many a pleasant year.[118]

[Footnote 105: Lowe suggests that Kungla is meant, which appears not improbable.]

[Footnote 106: This has been a common _motif_ in folk-tales from the time of Jephthah downwards; but the manner in which the different stories are worked out is very various.]

[Footnote 107: The usual Esthonian euphemism for the Devil.]

[Footnote 108: The moral tone of some of these Esthonian tales is much higher than usual in folk-tales. In the story of the "Northern Frog," we shall see that it is considered a wrong action, involving Karmic punishment, even to steal a talisman from a demon who is trying to entrap your soul. In most folk-tales, the basest cruelty and treachery is looked upon as quite laudable when your own interests require it, even against your best friend or most generous benefactor, and much more so against a Jew or a demon. But there are other Esthonian tales ("Slyboots," for instance), in which the morality is not much superior to that of average folk-tales.]

[Footnote 109: Here we find the Devil compared to a Tartar, just as in the 10th canto of the _Kalevipoeg_ a water-demon is compared to a Lett.]

[Footnote 110: Boiled peas and salt are provided on such occasions, as mentioned in other stories.]

[Footnote 111: The Kalevide was directed to stamp with his right foot to open the gates of Prgu.]

[Footnote 112: In Esthonian legends, the wolf is the great enemy of the devil. See vol. ii. Beast-stories.]

[Footnote 113: We meet with similar miraculously swift animals in other Esthonian tales.]

[Footnote 114: The outhouses in Sarvik's palace (_Kalevipoeg_, Canto 14) contained mere ordinary stores.]

[Footnote 115: A not very unusual incident in folk-tales, though it often takes the form of offering an iron bar instead of your own hand to a giant who wishes to shake hands with you.]

[Footnote 116: A visit to any description of non-human intelligent beings in Esthonian tales almost always extends to years, though it may have apparently lasted for only a day or two.]

[Footnote 117: In most stories of this cla.s.s, the hero forgets his companion on reaching home, either by a charm or by breaking a taboo.]

[Footnote 118: Another instance of a child being asked for by an ambiguous request is to be found in the story of the Clever Countrywoman (Jannsen), which must not be confounded with one in Kreutzwald's collection with a nearly similar t.i.tle, and of which we append an abstract. The story ends, rather unusually, in a subterfuge. A herd-boy returned one evening, and reported to his mistress that a cow was missing. The woman went herself, but everything round her was changed by magic, and she could not find her way home. However, as the mist rose from the moor, a little white man appeared, whom she recognised as one of the moor-dwellers. He took her home, and returned her cow, on her promising him what she would carry night and day under her heart. From thenceforth she took care always to wear her ap.r.o.n. A year afterwards, she became the mother of a fine boy, and when he was nine weeks old, the window was opened one night, and the intruder cried out, "Give me what you have carried night and day under your heart, as you promised." The woman flung him her ap.r.o.n, crying out, "In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost, receive what I promised you;" and he instantly vanished with the ap.r.o.n.]

SLYBOOTS.

(KREUTZWALD.)

In the days of the son of Kalev there reigned a very rich king of Kungla, who gave a great feast to his subjects every seven years at midsummer, which lasted for two or three weeks together.[119] The time for the feast came round again, and its commencement had been looked forward to for some months, though with some uncertainty; for twice already, seven years ago and fourteen years ago, the antic.i.p.ated festival had come to nothing. Both times the king had made full preparations for the feast, but no man had tasted it. This seemed strange and incredible, but there were many people everywhere who could bear witness to the facts. It was said that on both these occasions an unknown stranger had come to the head-cook and asked to be permitted to taste a little of the food and drink, but the moment he had dipped his spoon in the soup-kettle, and put the froth in the beer-can to his mouth, the whole contents of the storehouses, pantries, and cellars vanished in a moment, so that not a sc.r.a.p or drop of anything remained.[120] The cooks and kitchen-boys had all seen and sworn to the truth of the matter, but the people were so enraged at the collapse of the feast, that the king was obliged to appease them seven years before, by ordering the head-cook to be hanged for having given the stranger permission to taste the food. In order to prevent any repet.i.tion of the trouble, the king proclaimed that he would richly reward any one who would undertake the preparation of the feast; and at length, when no one would undertake the responsibility, the king promised his youngest daughter in marriage to any one who should succeed, but added that failure would be punished with death.

A long way from the capital, and near the borders of the kingdom, lived a rich farmer who had three sons, the youngest of whom showed great intelligence from his youth, because the Meadow-Queen[121] had nursed him, and had often secretly given him the breast. The father called him Slyboots, and used to say to the brothers, "You two elder ones must earn your living by your bodily strength and by the work of your hands, but as for you, little Slyboots, you will be able to rise higher in the world than your brothers, by your own cleverness."

Before the father died, he divided all his corn-land and meadows between his two elder sons, but to the youngest he gave enough money to enable him to go forth into the wide world to seek his fortune. But the father's corpse was scarcely cold when the two elder brothers stripped the youngest of every farthing, and thrust him out of the door, saying mockingly, "Your cleverness alone, Slyboots, is to exalt you over our heads, and therefore you might find the money troublesome to you."