Part 6

The flag of Lyderic, as Duke of Brabant, was a tricolor, of black, yellow, and red, in vertical bands. To his mind black stood for the dark forest and the difficulties which are always overcome by the brave. Yellow represented property and gold, the precious metal, which added to human prosperity, and must be guarded; while red was for blood and life, which all brave men willingly gave for their country, when they are called to go to war. Centuries afterward, when all the provinces of Belgic Land were united in one kingdom, and the people in one nation, and the country (in the English form of the name) was known as Belgium, this tricolor became the national flag.

Lyderic spent most of his time in Wales, on the lovely aisle of Avalon. Here he was in fairy land, for Morgana, jealous of his marriage to Gratina, had cast a spell upon him. So, while others died and were buried, he lived on. The time passed without his notice, or his asking about age, until two hundred years had slipped away.

Morgana, the fairy, had given Lyderic a fire brand, which, as long as it kept burning, his life would be prolonged; but when it went out, he would die. Lyderic lived with the knights of King Arthur, enjoying, with them, jousts and tournaments, and many wonderful sports and adventures. Yet at last, he tired of the company even of the knights of the Round Table, and longed to cross the sea, and live again in Belgic Land.

One day, when this desire became too strong to resist, he had an iron box made, and carefully keeping the fire alight, he left Avalon, and crossed the sea to his old home. Meeting the handsome widow of King Philip, this royal lady wished to marry him. Lyderic, while yielding to her wishes, and his mind occupied with his love affairs, forgot to attend to the fire, to keep it kindled, and so let the brand go out.

Then Morgana, the fairy, who had been jealous of the Princess Gratina and was now even more jealous of Lyderic’s new wife, carried him off to Avalon, and shut him up in the cave, where sit King Arthur and his knights, awaiting the day when they shall come forth, in time of greatest need. There Lyderic sleeps yet.

The fame of Lyderic lives in the myths of the fairy world, in many lands, from Denmark to Wales, and from Belgium to Italy. All the boys and girls of Europe have heard his story, in one form or another. As for Morgana, she is known all over the world, and in all time, as the conjurer. There are those who can discern her dwelling place on the clouds and vapors, especially off the coast of Calabria in Italy. At certain seasons of tide and weather, one may see, in the sky, and far above earth, or sea, a colossal picture of the trees and hills, of the houses and palaces of the wonderful city of Reggio, magnified many times, as it is reflected on the sky. One thus gets an idea of how the land looks where fairies live.

XI

THE LONG WAPPERS, AND THEIR TRICKS

In his rambles in Belgium, the story-teller found no parts of any city in the land equal in interest to those of old Antwerp. If he sauntered down toward evening, into the narrow streets and through the stone gateway, blackened with age, under which the great Charles V. rode, the fairies and funny folks seemed almost as near to him as the figures in real history. Here, many a prince or princess made their “joyous entry,” into the wonderful city of Brabo, the boy hero, who slew the cruel giant Antigonus and cut off his cruel hands.

Here, the story-teller noticed a great many images of the Virgin Mary; whereas, in the newer parts of the city, there were few or none. They were usually set in the house corners, where two streets came together. Inquiring into the reason of this, he discovered a new kind of Belgian fairy, the Wapper, famous for his long legs and funny tricks. Here were fairies on stilts.

This mischievous fellow was very active in old times. He could be as long, or as short, as it pleased him. He could stretch his body out, and up to the house roofs, or shrink it down, as if it were made of India rubber, according to his whim. For example, he would sit on a bridge, and lengthen his legs out until they were as thin as those of a mosquito. Again, he could drink until his body bulged out like a plum pudding, or a bag of oats. He was very fond of milk, and would suck or swallow it, until he looked the way a mosquito does, that has bored a hole through a fat boy’s skin, and filled himself so red and round, that you would think he might burst.

In days, centuries ago, the Long Wappers, as they were sometimes called, used to go around the streets of old Antwerp at dusk. Or, in the dark night, they would wait in lonely places and run off with the people. No one ever heard of any good boys or girls being snatched away, but drunken louts, coming home very late, that is toward midnight, from the dram shops, were often caught. The Wappers would seize them by the hair, swing them round, and then toss them into the gutters, till they were black with mud; or, they would throw them into the Scheldt River. Occasionally a toper would be found in a hog pen, sleeping with the sow and her piggies. When the man woke up, about noon, he could not tell how he ever got there; but the Wappers knew, and they kept their secret.

How numerous the Wappers were, the story-teller never could find out. It was in their power, to be as wee as a baby, or as big as a giant. That was the peculiar thing about them. It was very funny, that this kind of fairies never weighed more or less. No matter how much they drank of milk, they were never any heavier, or lighter, for it. And to their length, or shortness, they were more like earthworms that, in crawling, can be long, or short, as they please.

Sometimes the Wappers rose up out of the water, or sat on the bridges with their feet cooling in the stream. In that position, from their toes, up to their bodies, their legs looked more like black threads, or wires; or, as if a strand from a spider’s web had broken loose. If the water was not very deep, then they seemed to be on stilts.

One particular stream of water was named the Wapper’s Rui, or Wapper’s Creek, and the bridge crossing it was called the Wapper’s Bruck. While the Wapper was wading in the water, he seemed to be as long as a lightning rod, but as soon as the creature reached the bank, to step out, on land, his legs shortened to the size of a boy’s.

When on the bridge, he pulled up his wiry limbs, and looked like any human youngster. When he made use, to the utmost, of this elastic power of lengthening or shortening himself, the mischievous rascal elongated himself until his legs were like stilts, so that he could look down into the church windows. Then he would howl at the priests and the people, or make faces at them, and follow them home from the mass.

With his spidery legs, drawn out as thin as threads, he stretched himself upward toward the house roofs. Then he poked his long, curly nose, even into the top windows, usually just as the maids were going to bed, and nearly scared them out of their wits. They cried out “Holy Mother,” and crossed themselves, whereat he lowered himself and fled.

His favorite trick, however, was to make himself look like a foundling baby, or a very small child, crying and pretending to be hungry. He was always well wrapped up, and attracted attention. One day, a young nursing mother, that had left her baby at home for a few minutes, to run out to buy something, saw, as she thought, the poor little one.

In the goodness of her motherly heart, the woman took it up and gave it refreshment, meanwhile patting its back most affectionately. She crooned to herself, “arme pop,” “kinde,” “lieveling,” “trotekind” (poor baby, darling, lovey-dovey, trotty-kin), and other affectionate words, such as Flemish mothers use in the nursery. Meanwhile, the baby kept on with its breakfast.

But after five or ten minutes, when the supposed infant had drained both breasts, the woman thought of her own little one, in the cradle at home, and wondered whether her darling would have to go hungry.

Then she noticed that the strange baby’s stomach was swollen, almost as round as a big ball, for it had, from the first moment shown symptoms of ravenous hunger, and its body got bigger and bigger.

Horrified at this, she wrapped up the foundling and was about to lay it down, where she found it, and leave it there; when, out of the bundle, jumped a Wapper. He shook off the swaddling clothes, left them in the street, and ran off howling, laughing and gibbering.

When boys were coming home from school, they often stopped and played the game of “stuif hoed,” or “shove the hat.” Each boy took turns in slinging his hat down in the ring; or, another seized it from his head and pushed it, or kicked it about, with their wooden shoes, until the owner recovered it. Some boys grew very expert at this game, and all were eager to get first kick with their klomps.

The Wapper usually found out, beforehand, which one of the urchins had not been at school that day, then he changed himself into a boy, to look like the one who was absent. At the right moment, he threw down his hat. When one of the lads rushed up and gave it a tremendous kick, his klomp, or wooden shoe, flew in pieces, and he howled with pain, for his toes were nearly broken. The Wapper had, just for the fun of it, put an iron pot under the hat. When everybody was laughing at the poor boy, who was limping home, the Wapper could not be seen anywhere.

In fact, this fiendish fairy was always playing April fool jokes on people. He would lay a hat on the pavement, but, hidden under it, was a brick or stone, for some fellow to stub his toe upon.

The Wapper often went into a tavern, and, joining in a game of cards, would make the players cheat each other. Then a fight followed and some one would get hurt. If they had been drinking heavily, one might get killed.

Or, the Wapper would go about the town selling mussels to housekeepers. These shell fish are called mussels, because each one looks like a little mouse. But when a woman would let one of these pass her lips, out would crawl, not a mouse, but a spider; or, she would find her mouth full of sand. When the housewives discovered who and what this peddler of shell fish was, they would go after him with tongs, or rolling pins, or even chairs and stools, but at the first alarm, he lengthened his legs and rushed off so fast, that no one could ever catch him. Then again, he was called the Long Wapper.

But by and bye, it was noticed that whenever the Wapper came to an image or shrine of the Virgin Mary, he was afraid to pass it, and turned back. It was a woman, with sharp eyes, who first made this discovery, and all her neighbors honored her highly for her smartness. Some thought she ought to be made a saint.

So at once it became the fashion to make or buy images of the Holy Mother, and set them out in front of houses, over the doors or windows. It came to pass that the shops, where religious goods were sold, soon did a roaring business. Not only that, but whenever a new house was built, the architect set a niche in the angle, and there they built a shrine. Corner houses were especially well provided in this way, for by thus guarding two streets at once, the Long Wapper was double fooled, and so prevented from playing his tricks, whether high or low. By such means, they got rid of the Wappers in Antwerp.

Nobody ever sees this Belgian species of daddy longlegs nowadays, and it is supposed that specimens are seen only among the sandhills of the Campine. It is said that the Wappers are very mad about it, because they can do so little mischief, as compared with the good old times, when they broke the toes of boys, scared housemaids, deceived kind mothers, and made themselves a nuisance generally. No one nowadays ever hears even the word “wapper,” unless it be applied to a swing bridge, or the flap of a sail, or to some foolish person, who is more or less silly. They may use the Wapper’s picture as a comic valentine.

In fact, so low has the reputation of the Wappers fallen, that many Flemish folk think that their tribe is represented today by the Kludde.

The Kludde have no tongues, and they usually change themselves into old, worn out horses that are seen browsing in the sandy fields along the canals, in the heath country or in the Campine. A rustic fellow, thinking to get a ride, mounts the supposed horse. Then, at a gallop, the beast rushes forward and tumbles the man into the ditch, while the nag bounds away crying, or grunting out “Kludde, Kludde.” But some people say the Kludde are more numerous, where dram shops abound.

When the swing bridge, over the street of water, in the towns has been lifted into the air, to let a boat with masts, go through the canal, school boys rush over it, to get the bounce, when it thumps down level; and they may call the bump a “Wapper.”

But who wants to be a Wapper?

XII

THE PILGRIM PIGEONS

Every child, old enough to eat with a spoon, knows that monkeys and pigeons cannot get along together. The birds are gentle and of sweet disposition, but the beasts behave like ruffians. All the pigeons of any family, that want to have a quiet time, move away into other countries. It would be like imps and angels living together.

The naughty monkeys are too fond of fresh eggs, to care where they get them, and they have no regard for the feelings of other creatures. They climb up into the trees and pull down the pigeons’ nests, and even eat up the young squabs.

So it happened that, long, long ago, the pigeon fathers and mothers flew far, far away, from Monkey Land. Then the young fuzzy fellows, with such long fingers and toes, had to do without the little blue eggs for their breakfast, of which they had been so fond.

The first country, in which the flock of emigrant pigeons rested their weary wings, was where the Saracens lived. Here were orange and lemon trees, and figs and nut trees, besides plenty of barley and other grain. So that the little birds, that had been made thin and very tired by flying so far, soon got fat again. The young lady pigeons preened their feathers, and made themselves very lovely to look at. This pleased the young male birds greatly. From ducking their heads so vigorously while eating, the pigeons were sometimes called doves; that is divers.

Now that traveling was over, the season of courting began. Soon it was whispered among the pigeon mothers that this, or that son, and daughter, had mated, and both were busy at nest building.

The Saracen boys and girls were very kind to these new comers. They made playmates of them, and taught the mother bird to carry messages, from one city to another. For once away from her nest and young ones, she wanted to get back in a hurry. By and bye, when well trained, a homing pigeon would fly long distances without regard to family cares, or little ones in the nest. So the pigeons were very happy in the Saracen world.

In this warm region, they not only multiplied, but found new and strange places to live in, some in minarets, and some in the mountains; others in the woods, some in the crowded cities, and some by the seashore. Wonderful to relate, instead of being all alike, in size and color, they changed in form, weight and habits, the carrier birds, especially, being strong of wing. Yet they were all called doves, or pigeons, though so varied in appearance.

But after a long time, just when everything in the bird world was going on finely, all the pigeons were made dreadfully unhappy by very sad news. Some of the old feathered daddies at once declared the whole flock would have to become emigrants and pilgrims, again, and seek another country.

What was the matter? All the young fathers and mothers, with their little families, could not, at first, see the reason why. They had built nests, and their birdlings were just putting on their first coat of feathers, and their proud parents wanted to show them off in their varied colors and bright neck-sheen. In fact, every mother bird was sure that her fledglings were very accomplished young ones, and would certainly surprise the world when they made their début. It was too bad that, just when their babies were growing up to be big birds, and coming out into pigeon society, they must leave the olive groves and pleasant vineyards, to go to a strange country where nobody knew them. Already they had learned to coo a ditty, that sounded very much like “Home, sweet home.”

Well, this was the trouble. There was war going on in the world of human beings, and men were killing each other, because, on one side, one set of fellows did not believe the stories the other lot told. The Crusaders fought with a red cross on their coats, but the Saracens had a silver crescent on their banners. One of the most famous of the Saracens was Saladin, but the victor and king of Jerusalem was Godfrey de Bouillon, a Belgian. The Crusaders and the Saracens had dressed themselves in iron clothes, and their armies had gone to battle. They were not contented to hack and chop each other to pieces, but these fierce fighters had to carry their quarrels even into the air and there they made the birds fight and kill each other.

The Crusaders brought into the Saracen country hundreds of falcons. These terrible birds of prey had sharp beaks, like knives, and horrible talons like steel hooks, that choked and killed at once. The men from the West set these savage creatures to catch the carrier pigeons, which the Saracens had used for letter carriers. In this way, they could find out their enemy’s war secrets.

Hundreds of innocent doves were thus cruelly torn to pieces. In many a nest, there was grief. Mournful cooings were heard all over the land, because the little pigeons were lonely, without their mothers that did not come back. The poor daddies had hard work to get food enough for the birdies to eat. Everybody knows that father-birds do not know much about taking care of motherless little things, when they have not enough feathers to fly with. Some of the tiny squabs, that missed the warm bosoms of their mothers, actually died in the nest.

So a great meeting of the daddies was held to take counsel as to what should be done. A few of the older mothers were present, who sat on the top branches of the trees and listened. The whole subject was talked over. To stay there meant to be all torn to pieces by the falcons of the Crusaders. So it was decided to leave Saracen land, and migrate to another country; and, in fact, nearly all the young and stronger birds went.

“But this time,” said one of the older of the father-birds, who seemed to be chief of the company, “we shall leave the warm countries and go into the cold north. There, it may be that men do not fight, and there are no falcons.”

“At any rate,” cooed the very oldest of the mother-birds, “there will be no monkeys there.”

At this, all the other mother pigeons winked and blinked at each other, as if to say, “What a long memory she has!” And, indeed, this bald-pated old pigeon was the oldest in the entire party. She was not a carrier, but she remembered what her great, great grand-mother had told her, about the mischievous monkeys, that ate up the pigeons’ eggs, to the grief of the parents, that could only fly at the rascals, and peck the ears of the ugly brutes.

“Nor any falcons, either,” snapped out another rather old Mrs. Pigeon, that had six times laid eggs, and borne six broods of squabs, each time educating them properly, and teaching them to fly. Now, in her old age, just when she hoped for a little quiet, without family cares or trouble, she had to take sole charge of two sets of young pigeons, whose mothers had been killed by falcons. The poor daddies, that were now widowers, did not know much about the business of housekeeping, or of washing, dressing, and preening the feathers of his young brood, or about keeping the nest in order; yet they could spank the lazy squabs when necessary, and box the heads of the naughty ones, and do it well.

As for the old lady pigeon, who had to attend to the matter of properly raising two motherless families, she grumbled a good deal about it, declaring to her neighbors that she had already, for six successive spring seasons, raised six lots of youngsters. For her part, she was tired of squabs, that had no clothes on, and did not know how to coo, or behave properly. She would do the best she could, to look after other folks’ babies, yet she did hope that, as soon as their wings grew, the flight of the whole community would at once take place, and not be put off a day; for she had heard that more falcons were coming.

It must be at night, when the terrible hunters of the air were asleep, or could not see, that the pigeons were to migrate in a body. The country decided on was Norway.

So, after a long flight, with many stops on the way, to give rest to the wings of the youngsters, that were not strong, the entire flock—enough of them almost to darken the air—arrived in the land of mountains, lakes, and waterfalls, of stormy winds, and of ice and snow, that fell heavy and often; sometimes even in summer. They received a right royal welcome from the people living in the country where reindeer were numerous and nearly all the houses were built of wood.

Tied to the chimneys of the barns and wooden houses, the stranger birds noticed sheaves of grain and hay. From these, the pigeons found food when they were hungry, and carried away warm stuff for the building and lining of their nests. Soon they were very happy in their new quarters, with no wars, or monkeys, or falcons, to disturb their housekeeping.

There was much billing and cooing, and a great many nests were built at once. These were soon filled, first, with pretty blue eggs, and then by chirping birdies, and everybody in the pigeon world was happy as happy could be.

Now when the fairies in Norway heard of the arrival of this new kind of bird, in their realm, and of the good behaviour of the young, and the fine character of the old ones, they wanted to see them and could hardly wait till they paid a formal visit.

There was a fairy maid, that traveled much over the whole country, and heard all the news. She listened at keyholes, and over chimneys, and in the market places, where she could overhear the chat and the gossip. She always had her ears open, and when told of the pigeons and their wonderful ways, and fine manners, she hied at once to see how they looked.

When this news carrier found that the birds were short legged, but very strong, had big wings, and could fly long distances, she went right off and told Freya, the Fairy Queen, whose husband, Odin, was a mighty king and knew everything. Freya at once sent for a pair of doves, to pay a visit at her court.

Because of this, the fairy maid gained great glory, and was very proud. Everybody had hitherto supposed that only the two ravens, which fly out all through the world during the day, and come back at night, could find out the news. This pair of wise birds, perched every evening on the shoulder of the fairy King, after he had had his supper, and was in good humor. They whispered in his ear, telling him about all manner of things, and especially the latest news. In this way, he got to know first everything that went on.

Yet in this case, the ravens had failed to learn about the pigeons, while the fairy maid had found them. That is the reason why she was very proud. She boasted over the ravens so much, that she made herself very disagreeable, and hardly any one loved her. But as for the king, he lost his temper and called the ravens slow pokes, blockheads, and other names, until Freya, his queen and wife, soothed his temper. Then the ravens promised to be more alert, and not let a single fairy ever get ahead of them in carrying news.