Chapter IV (2)

“If you will not marry my daughter,” she cried angrily, “neither shall you wed Hadvör. I have not forgotten the magic taught me by my mother, and, as you will not obey me, I lay my spell on you. You shall live on a desert island, and all day long you shall roam about in the shape of a lion; only after sunset shall you return to your human form, and then you shall think of Hadvör and remember your former life, and thus suffer doubly in looking back on the past; and you shall not be freed from this enchantment till Hadvör succeeds in burning your lion’s skin.”

“I am in your power now,” replied Hermod; “but your punishment will overtake you ere long, for I also possess some magic gifts; and, though I am at present powerless, as soon as your wicked spell is broken, which it assuredly will be, you and your daughter, who is as wicked as you are, shall be turned into a rat and a mouse, and you will bite and tear each other till you kill one another.”

So Hermod suddenly disappeared, and no one knew what had become of him. The queen made a pretence of sending out people to search for him, but no trace of him was found.

When Olöf next visited Hadvör, she found her in great grief at Hermod’s disappearance.

“Nay, do not weep,” she said; “the queen, by her wicked enchantments, has caused him to disappear for a time. Both she and her daughter are two wicked giantesses, who have only assumed their present form, and, when Hermod refused to marry her daughter, she put in practice her magic arts. She has transported him to a desert island, where he will be a lion during the day, but resume his own form every evening, and this charm will last until you succeed in burning the lion’s skin. The queen has also further arranged that you are to marry her brother, a terrible, three-headed giant, who lives underground. I, too, have suffered from her arts,” concluded Olöf; “she carried me away from my parents’ house, forcing me to serve her. Fortunately, however, she is powerless to hurt me, for the green cloak I always wear over my dress was a gift from my godmother, and nothing can harm me while I have it on.”

Poor Hadvör! She felt very hopeless when she heard of all her stepmother’s wicked plots against her, and entreated Olöf, by the love they bore each other, to assist her.

This Olöf gladly promised she would do.

“But first, you must keep watch and guard against the queen’s brother,” she said. “He lives in a cave beneath the castle, and will rise beneath your chamber some night. You must, therefore, always keep a large pot of boiling pitch ready, and as soon as you hear a great rumbling noise, like an earthquake, and see the ground cracking, at once pour the boiling pitch down the cracks, and this will kill the giant. It is the only thing that can hurt him.”

About this time, the king returned home from the wars, and was greatly distressed at Hermod’s disappearance. He made inquiries and sent out messengers in all directions, but no trace of him could be found, and the queen had to use all her arts to console the king under the loss of his adopted son.

Hadvör meanwhile remained quietly in her own house. Following Olöf’s advice, she kept ready the boiling pitch for the giant, and had not long to wait. One night, shortly after the king’s return, she was suddenly awakened by a loud rumbling noise; the ground began to shake and tremble; but Hadvör, having been fully prepared, was not frightened, and summoned her maidens to assist her. Then, as the noises grew louder, and several great cracks appeared in the floor, Hadvör and the girls poured the boiling pitch down the open seams. Then gradually the noises ceased, till everything was perfectly quiet again.

The next morning the queen rose up early, and as soon as she was dressed she hurried to Princess Hadvör’s house. There, lying on the ground outside, she saw the dead body of her brother the giant.

“Oh,” cried the queen angrily, “that must be Hadvör’s work! But the minx need not think she shall go unpunished, and upset all my schemes;” and bending over the body of the uncouth monster, she continued: “By my magic power, I will that your body shall be transformed into that of a beautiful prince, and that Hadvör shall be accused of causing your death.”

With these words she placed her hand on the giant’s body, and immediately it was changed into the likeness of a handsome prince.

The queen then returned to the palace, and, pretending to weep, she told the king that she feared his daughter was a very wicked girl, though she always seemed so good, for that her brother, a brave and handsome prince, had come to ask Hadvör’s hand in marriage, who without any rhyme or reason had caused him to be killed, for she, the queen, had just seen his dead body lying outside the princess’s house.

When the king heard this, he hastened to Hadvör’s house, accompanied by the queen; and when he saw the dead body lying there, just as the queen had described, he was very angry. He said he could not have wished for a handsomer or nobler son-in-law, and that he would gladly have consented to the marriage.

Then the queen begged that she might be allowed to choose Hadvör’s punishment, and the king, greatly incensed with his daughter, gave his consent.

So the queen said it would only be a just punishment that Hadvör, who had killed her brother, should be buried alive in the same grave with him; and the king, though sorry for his daughter, having given his royal word, said the queen’s wishes must be carried out.

Olöf meanwhile, who, unknown to the queen, had overheard all that passed, hastened away to tell Hadvör. When the princess heard what the queen intended doing, she was very frightened, but Olöf comforted her and promised to help her.

“And remember, if you wish to bring Hermod back again, you must not mind undergoing some pain and suffering for him.”

Olöf then brought her a short cloak, which she told Hadvör she must wear over her dress when she went into the grave or burial mound. The giant, she said, would be a spirit after he was buried.

“He will then ask you to cut off and give him one of your hands,” continued Olöf; “but you must not promise to do this until he has told you where Hermod is, and how you are to get to him. Then when you want to get out of the grave, he will let you mount on his shoulder; but beware how you trust him: he will only help you to put you off your guard, and will take hold of your cloak and drag you back. See, therefore, that it is only loosely tied, so that when once you have your foot on the outer edge the cloak alone will remain in his hands.”

Meanwhile the grave was being prepared, and when all was ready the body of the supposed prince was laid in it, and Hadvör, who was not allowed to say a word in her own defence, was lowered in beside him, and the grave, was walled up and closed.

And then all happened as Olöf had foretold. The supposed prince became a spirit, but in his former giant form, and asked Hadvör if she would let him cut off one of her hands and her hair, saying, “Only a maiden’s hand will open the grave, and a maiden’s hair will Hermod save.” But Hadvör refused unless he first told her where Hermod was, and how she could get to him.

Then the giant said that the queen had banished Hermod to a desert island, and described exactly where it was.

“But you will not be able to reach him unless you cut off your hand,” said the giant “Then you must cut off your hair and plait it together and make it into sandals, and with these you will be able to cross both sea and land.”

Hadvör at once carried out the giant’s instructions. She cut off her beautiful long golden hair, and plaiting it together, made herself a pair of sandals. Then, thinking only of Harmod, bravely held out her hand for the giant to cut off, and declared she was ready to go.

The giant said he would help her, that she must climb upon his shoulder and touch the roof with the hand he had cut off, when the top of the grave would open. So she followed his directions; and no sooner was the grave open than the giant stretched up his hand and caught hold of her cloak, to pull her back. But with one spring Hadvör was outside the grave, the cloak slipped from her shoulders, remaining in the giant’s hands; and, without waiting to look round, she flew along the road he had told her of.

She ran on for some time without venturing to stop or look round, until at length she reached the seashore. There, far far away in the distance, she saw a high rocky island. Her sandals, however, enabled her to cross the water easily; but when she reached the island the shore was so steep and rocky, she could find no way of getting into the interior. This was a terrible disappointment and tired and weary with all she had gone through, Hadvör sat down on a fallen piece of rock, and presently fell asleep. Then she dreamt that a big giantess came up to her and said, “I know that you are Hadvör, the king’s daughter, and that you are in search of Hermod. He is on this island; but you will not find it easy to reach him, if left to yourself, for the cliffs are steep and dangerous, and, though you are brave and ready to face any danger for him, you will not be able to climb them. But I will help you. Go round the corner of the next cliff, and there you will find a stout rope fastened to the rocks. By its help you will be able to climb up and get into the island. But it is large and has many caves, and you might be a long time ere you find Hermod. I have, therefore, brought you this ball of ribbon; take hold of the loose end, and the ball will roll along and guide you in the right way. I also give you this girdle; fasten it round your waist, and as long as you wear it you will suffer neither hunger nor fatigue. But remember to keep silence while Hermod is still under the spell, and on no account must you speak until after you have burnt the lion’s skin.”

When Hadvör awoke, feeling quite strong and refreshed, she thought she had only had a very pleasant dream; but, looking round, she saw a ball of gaily coloured ribbon and a beautiful silken girdle lying beside her. Putting the girdle round her waist, she tucked the ball inside of it, and, going round the next cliff, she saw a stout rope hanging down. Then she knew that her dream was no ordinary one. She took hold of the rope, and began climbing the almost perpendicular rock. But it was a long and difficult task, for the rocks were high and steep, and the loss of her hand greatly impeded her progress. But whenever she lost heart, she thought of Hermod, and the knowledge that she was at last near him gave her fresh strength, till at length she reached the top.

She then placed the ball on the ground and followed its lead, till it stopped at the entrance to a cave.

Cautiously Hadvör peeped in, but she saw nothing except a miserable wooden pallet, so she crept under this and hid herself.

The hours seemed very long, as she lay there listening for every sound that might announce Hermod’s approach; then, just as the sun was setting, sending a bright crimson gleam into the cave, she heard a loud roar, accompanied by heavy footsteps, and presently a huge lion entered the cave.

Hadvör’s heart leapt into her mouth, but she remembered that she must be silent if she wished to save him.

The lion then went towards the hearth, and giving himself a vigorous shake, the lion’s skin fell off, and Hadvör saw that it was indeed Hermod.

He sat down on the bed (little thinking that Hadvör was hid underneath), and began talking aloud of his love for Hadvör, and his great grief at their separation, and his utter inability to help himself. “For, alas!” he concluded, “it is only by Hadvör’s finding and burning my lion’s skin that I can ever get back my human figure and power; and how is it possible she should ever find me here?”

Hadvör, when she heard these words, almost jumped out from beneath the bed, but she remembered in time that she must not speak until she had burnt the lion’s skin. So, with a strong effort of her will, she kept perfectly still and silent till Hermod threw himself down on the bed.

As soon as she heard that he was fast asleep, she crept forth quietly, and, taking an armful of wood and a lighted brand from the hearth, she made up a big fire outside the cave, and burnt the lion’s skin Hermod had thrown off. She then returned to the cave and wakened Hermod. What a glad and joyful meeting that was!

Hadvör told Hermod all that had occurred after his disappearance, and how, by Olöf’s help, she had been enabled to find him.

“Oh, Hadvör,” cried Hermod, “to think of all you have done and suffered for my sake! And, alas, that you should have lost your right hand! How can I ever make up to you for all you have done?” And gently taking the maimed arm, he pressed his lips to the wrist, when lo, and behold, the hand was restored, and not even a mark was visible to show where it had been severed!

Then they began planning how best to return home, and Hadvör told Hermod of her wonderful dream and the gifts she had already received from the giantess. “Surely,” she added, “she must live somewhere on this island, and might help us again.”

Hermod said he believed a giantess did live on the island, and that she was called Allgood, but he had never seen her, though she was supposed to watch over people and help them. So they determined to try and find her, and they sallied forth. After a long search, they came to a huge cavern, inside of which sat the great giantess, surrounded by her fifteen children! Then Hermod asked her if she would help them to return to their home, telling her how they had been driven forth.

“It will not be easy,” replied Allgood, “because the giant who was buried with Hadvör will try and throw all kinds of obstacles in your way. He has been changed into a huge whale, and swims all round this island, and he will certainly try all he can to kill Hadvör ere she reaches her own country. But I will lend you my ship, for though Hadvör’s sandals would carry you across the water, they will not protect you from the giant. He may not know that you are in my ship; but if you see him swimming towards you, I fear your life may be in danger. Then call on me, and I will help you.”

Hermod and Hadvör thanked the giantess warmly for her good advice and kind offer of help, and getting on board her ship, where they found food and everything they wanted, they left the island, happy and hopeful. But ere long they saw a huge whale swimming rapidly towards them. He spouted the water up, yards high, and lashed the sea with his tail as he came near the ship.

“Oh, Hermod,” cried Hadvör, “that surely must be the wicked giant! Let us call on Allgood to help us!” And they both called loudly on the giantess for aid.

Immediately a still bigger whale than the first one appeared, followed by fifteen smaller ones. They swam swiftly towards the ship, and when they had completely surrounded it, they turned on the first whale. Then a terrific battle began. The water shot almost up to the clouds, the sea was lashed into such great waves, that it seemed as if the vessel must be swamped, and Hermod and Hadvör watched eagerly for the result. The fight lasted for some time; but when at length it was over, they saw that the sea for some distance was red with the blood of the dead whale. And then the big whale, followed by the fifteen smaller ones, swam back to the island, and Hermod and Hadvör reached their own land in safety.

Meanwhile, strange events had happened at the king’s castle. The queen and her daughter had disappeared, and in their apartments a big rat and a mouse fought all day and night. In vain the servants tried to drive them away. Even if they ran off for a short time, they always came back again and disturbed the whole castle by their cries. Thus some time passed, and the king was once again plunged into grief, not only at the disappearance of the queen, but because these horrid animals left neither him nor his court any peace.

One evening, when they were all assembled in the great hall, very sad and silent, quick steps were heard approaching, and, to the surprise of every one, Hermod entered. As soon as the king saw him, he embraced him warmly, greeting him like one returned from the dead, and anxiously inquiring all that had happened to him. But before sitting down, Hermod said he must first go to the queen’s apartment. There the rat and mouse were fighting and biting one another, uttering frightful cries; but, drawing his sword, Hermod smote them both, when, to the amazement of all, there lay two hideous giantesses dead on the ground. The servants quickly carried them out into the great courtyard, where they were thrown on a pile of wood and burnt.

Meanwhile, the king and Hermod, accompanied by the whole court, returned to the hall, and then Hermod related all his wonderful adventures, greatly to the delight and amazement of the king and his courtiers. And, while they were exclaiming at the wonders of his tale, Hadvör came in, accompanied by Olöf.

Then, indeed, there was general rejoicing, and the king at once acceded to Hermod’s wish to become his son-in-law. There was no long delay over the wedding, and as the king was now growing old, he handed over the government of the country to Hermod, whose reign is still known as that of “the good king.”

Hadvör, in the midst of her own happiness, did not forget Olöf and all the good services she had rendered her. She married one of the great nobles of the kingdom, who became King Hermod’s right hand, and Hadvör and Olöf remained close friends all the days of their life, their friendship descending to their children and grandchildren.

INGEBJÖRG

There once lived a king and queen who ought to have been as happy as the day is long, for they had a fine kingdom, a beautiful palace, plenty of horses and carriages; their treasure-room was filled with gold, silver, and precious stones, and no matter how much they took out of it, it always remained full.

Their people were quiet and industrious, and they had no cares or troubles; yet, notwithstanding all this, they grew daily more sad and sorrowful, for they had no children to inherit all the riches they owned.

One day the queen went out into the palace garden. It was a fine bright winter’s morning. The snow lay hard and firm on the ground, and each tree and bush sparkled and glistened in the sunshine, just as if the jewels in the king’s treasury had been scattered over them.

The queen, feeling tired, sat down on a stone bench beneath a huge oak tree, when suddenly a large white bird flew down from the tree. It brushed past so close to the queen’s face, that the wing-feathers scratched her cheek, and a few drops of bright crimson blood fell on the snowy ground.

“Oh,” cried the queen, “would that I might have a daughter who would be as beautiful as those crimson drops on the white glistening ground!”

“You shall have your wish,” sang the bird, as it flew away, its white wings shining in the sun like silver.

The queen had hardly recovered from her surprise than she heard a noise behind her, and, turning round, she beheld the old man Surtur, who lived in a little hut near the palace, and who was well known and dreaded as a wicked magician.

“Ay, you shall have your wish,” he muttered, in a fierce, angry voice; “but I too intend to have a say in the matter. A daughter shall indeed be born to you, but she shall cause you more sorrow than happiness, unless, indeed, she returns you good for evil.” And he laughed wickedly, and disappeared.

When the queen heard these words she was greatly troubled, for she knew that Surtur was her enemy, and that he was powerful; but as weeks and months passed and nothing happened, she forgot all about the old man’s words, and when at length her little daughter was born, every one agreed that she was the most beautiful child ever seen. She was christened Ingebjörg, and grew up as good as she was beautiful.

At first the queen could not do enough for the child, and could hardly bear her out of her sight; but as she grew older, and when she saw how fond the king was of Ingebjörg, and how every one praised and admired her, she began to grow jealous, and all her love seemed to turn to hatred.

When the king saw this, he thought it would be better to separate Ingebjörg from her mother, so he built her a separate house, and there she lived with her own attendants. But this only made the queen still more angry. At last she fell ill, and sent for her daughter, and when the girl came to her bedside she whispered something in her ear, and then sent her back to her own house again. But from that day a change came over Ingebjörg. She no longer laughed and danced as was her wont, but walked about the rooms alone, often weeping, and would never leave her house on any pretext whatsoever.

One day, when Ingebjörg, as usual, sat in her room, her work that she used to take such pleasure in lying idly on her lap, while the tears rolled slowly down her cheeks, she heard some one knocking at the door, and on opening it she saw a funny little old woman with a high peaked hat, who asked if she might come in and rest.

Ingebjörg listlessly said “Yes;” and then the old woman began telling her some wonderful stories, and at last Ingebjörg got so interested that her tears stopped, and she looked quite bright and happy like her old self.

“And now,” continued the old woman, “I want you to come out into the wood with me. It is a lovely day, and so beautiful and fresh in the shade of the trees.”

Though at first Ingebjörg declared she did not care to go, she at last allowed herself to be persuaded, and soon they were wandering along on the soft mossy-paths beneath the beautiful great tall-stemmed firs, graceful beeches, and feathery birch, till gradually the sad look disappeared from Ingebjörg’s face, and she began to laugh and run like the happy girl she had once been.

“And now,” said the little old woman, when, tired of walking, they had seated themselves on a mossy bank, “now tell me, Ingebjörg, why are you always so sad?”

At first the girl refused to speak, but the little old woman kept on asking, and she looked so kind and gentle that at length Ingebjörg said her mother had told her that it had been foretold at her birth that she was to marry a terrible giant, and that she was to burn her father’s castle and so cause his death.

“And oh,” cried Ingebjörg, “I love him so dearly! He has always been so good and kind to me! Oh, let us hasten home. I quite forgot; I ought never to have left my house, and I never will go out again, and then I cannot possibly harm him, or marry that horrible giant.” And the poor girl hurried home, sobbing and crying all the way.

“Nay, nay,” said the little old woman, “comfort yourself, my child. I am your godmother, and there is no harm done, and I think we can find some way to avert these evils. It is all that wicked Surtur’s doing. He wanted to marry your mother, and when she would have nothing to say to him and married your father, he vowed he would never rest till the king was dead and she was punished. So he got her maid to give her some drops made out of the dragon’s tooth, which turned her love for you to hatred and jealousy. But he can only work so far. It remains for you, now that you are grown up, to undo the evil he has wrought by returning good for evil, for love can overcome all things. The king’s palace I cannot save, for my power only extends over living things; but neither your father nor mother shall be hurt, and the treasure can also be saved. Neither need you fear the giant if you will do exactly as I bid you. Now you must first go and persuade your father to go out riding in the forest with all his attendants.”

With a heart greatly relieved at her godmother’s cheery words, Ingebjörg hastened to do her bidding.

“Dear father,” she said, as she entered his presence, “the day is so fine and the woods are so beautiful, will you not go out for a ride in the woods and take the courtiers with you?”

And the king, pleased at seeing her look so bright and happy, at once said he would go, and with all his courtiers in attendance, started off for a great hunting party in the forest.

As soon as they were well out of sight, Ingebjörg sent the servants away on different errands, and when the palace was quite empty, the little old dame helped the princess to carry out all the treasure and whatever else was of value in the castle, and then, when they stood in the great empty hall, she told Ingebjörg that she must now take down the big can of oil from the mantelshelf. In so doing the girl’s foot slipped, and the oil ran over the hearth and into the fire. In a few minutes the whole place was in a blaze, the little old dame and Ingebjörg having just time to escape.

“Thus,” said the old woman, “one part of old Surtur’s enchantment has been fulfilled, without harm to any one, and the rest you must now carry out;” so saying, she gave Ingebjörg a little silver ball. “Now go to the forest, throw down this ball, and follow its windings till it stops at a woodman’s hut; go in, but keep the door ajar, so that you can see who comes in, and, whatever you do, remember that you must see the owner of the hut before he sees you. Remain there till I summon you; but when in your dreams you hear me calling you, do not lose an instant, but hasten to the palace, for your mother will need you. Remember love is the great conqueror, and can overcome all evils.”

Ingebjörg promised to do exactly as the old dame had told her. She threw down the silver ball and followed its course as it rolled along, till at last it stopped before a woodman’s hut, and, going in, she hid behind the half-closed door, peeping curiously between the slit.

Presently she saw a huge giant coming towards the hut, carrying a dead bear across his shoulders which he had killed out hunting. He pushed open the door, and, as he threw down his burden, he beheld Ingebjörg; however, she had seen him first, and felt very frightened.

But though he looked terribly fierce, his voice was very soft and kind as he told her that she might remain with him, but that she would have to make the beds, cook the food, and sweep the floor—all which Ingebjörg promised to do. He then showed her a little inner chamber where he said she might sleep. “And, whatever noises you hear,” he added, “don’t come in here unless I call you.”

And thus passed three days. The giant went out early every morning, and never returned till sunset; while Ingebjörg cooked the food, made the beds, and kept the little hut clean and tidy. Every night she heard frightful noises in the outer room, the walls of the hut shook, and the earth trembled, but as the giant never called her, she lay quietly in her bed, pulling the clothes over her ears to deaden the terrible noises. And then, as she fell asleep, each night she dreamed that, instead of the giant, a handsome young prince stood beside the hearth.

On the third evening, she had hardly fallen asleep when she fancied she heard some one calling her. Quickly jumping out of bed, she hastily threw on her clothes, cautiously opened the door, and, seeing the hut was empty, she ran as quickly as she could to the palace. She knew that her mother needed her.

There, in front of the chief entrance, she saw a wooden stake had been driven into the ground, to which the queen was tied, while the servants were piling fagots of wood round her; for the queen had been condemned to be burnt to death for having set the palace on fire during the king’s absence and stolen all the treasure, though she in vain pleaded her innocence.

Pushing her way through the crowd, Ingebjörg threw herself down on her knees before her father.

“Oh, stop, stop!” she cried eagerly. “Dear father, my mother is not to blame. It was I who was forced to burn down the castle, in order to save your life, which was threatened by the wicked magician, Surtur, and the treasure also is safe.”

When the king heard this, he at once ordered the queen to be released, who, freed from the wicked spells that Surtur had thrown over her, embraced her daughter with many loving words.

Surtur, hearing that his evil deeds were known to the king, tried to hide himself in the woods; but he was caught and brought back by the giant, who had also fallen under his enchantments. But Ingebjörg remembered her silver ball, and, throwing it towards the giant, he caught it, and as he did so he was immediately changed into the handsome young prince Ingebjörg had seen each night in her dreams.

But Surtur was not to escape. The king called his servants, who bound the magician with strong cords. He was condemned to death for all his wicked deeds, and was led forth into the desert, where he was torn to pieces by wild horses.

All the queen’s old jealousy now died out for ever. She loved Ingebjörg more fondly each day, and before long there was a great marriage-feast between the prince and Ingebjörg. They lived happily together all the days of their life, and on the death of the king and queen, Ingebjörg and her husband reigned in their stead, beloved by all their people.

HANS