Chapter 23
Then the King gave him three hundred dollars, and he set out home; but he was so loaded with gold and silver, and so grandly clothed, that it gleamed and glistened from him, and he was now far richer than Peter the Pedlar.
When Peter got the feathers he hadn’t a word more to say against the wedding; but when he saw all that wealth, he asked if there was much still left at the Dragon’s castle.
“Yes, I should think so”, said the lad; “there was much more than I could carry with me—so much, that you might load many horses with it; and if you choose to go, you may be sure there’ll be enough for you.”
So his son-in-law told him the way so clearly, that he hadn’t to ask it of any one.
“But the horses”, said the lad “you’d best leave this side the river; for the old ferryman, he’ll carry you over safe enough.”
So Peter set off, and took with him great store of food and many horses; but these he left behind him on the river’s brink, as the lad had said. And the old ferryman took him upon his back; but when they had come a bit out into the stream, he cast him into the midst of the river, and said,
“Now you may go backwards and forwards here, and carry folk over till you are set free.”
And unless some one has set him free, there goes Rich Peter the Pedlar backwards and forwards, and carries folk across this very day.
GERTRUDE’S BIRD
In those days when our Lord and St Peter wandered upon earth, they came once to an old wife’s house, who sat baking. Her name was Gertrude, and she had a red mutch on her head. They had walked a long way, and were both hungry, and our Lord begged hard for a bannock to stay their hunger. Yes, they should have it. So she took a little tiny piece of dough and rolled it out, but as she rolled it, it grew and grew till it covered the whole griddle.
Nay, that was too big; they couldn’t have that. So she took a tinier bit still; but when that was rolled out, it covered the whole griddle just the same, and that bannock was too big, she said; they couldn’t have that either.
The third time she took a still tinier bit—so tiny you could scarce see it; but it was the same story over again—the bannock was too big.
“Well”, said Gertrude, “I can’t give you anything; you must just go without, for all these bannocks are too big.”
Then our Lord waxed wroth, and said:
“Since you loved me so little as to grudge me a morsel of food, you shall have this punishment: you shall become a bird, and seek your food between bark and bole; and never get a drop to drink save when it rains.”
He had scarce said the last word before she was turned into a great black woodpecker, or Gertrude’s bird, and flew from her kneading-trough right up the chimney; and till this very day you may see her flying about, with her red mutch on her head, and her body all black, because of the soot in the chimney; and so she hacks and taps away at the trees for her food, and whistles when rain is coming, for she is ever athirst, and then she looks for a drop to cool her tongue.
BOOTS AND THE TROLL
Once on a time there was a poor man who had three sons. When he died, the two elder set off into the world to try their luck, but the youngest they wouldn’t have with them at any price.
“As for you”, they said, “you’re fit for nothing but to sit and poke about in the ashes.”
So the two went off and got places at a palace—the one under the coachman, and the other under the gardener. But Boots, he set off too, and took with him a great kneading-trough, which was the only thing his parents left behind them, but which the other two would not bother themselves with. It was heavy to carry, but he did not like to leave it behind, and so, after he had trudged a bit, he too came to the palace, and asked for a place. So they told him they did not want him, but he begged so prettily that at last he got leave to be in the kitchen, and carry in wood and water for the kitchen maid. He was quick and ready, and in a little while every one liked him; but the two others were dull, and so they got more kicks than halfpence, and grew quite envious of Boots, when they saw how much better he got on.
Just opposite the palace, across a lake, lived a Troll, who had seven silver ducks which swam on the lake, so that they could be seen from the palace. These the king had often longed for; and so the two elder brothers told the coachman:
“If our brother only chose, he has said he could easily get the king those seven silver ducks.”
You may fancy it wasn’t long before the coachman told this to the king; and the king called Boots before him, and said:
“Your brothers say you can get me the silver ducks; so now go and fetch them.”
“I’m sure I never thought or said anything of the kind,” said the lad.
“You did say so, and you shall fetch them”, said the king, who would hold his own.
“Well! well!” said the lad; “needs must, I suppose; but give me a bushel of rye, and a bushel of wheat, and I’ll try what I can do.”
So he got the rye and the wheat, and put them into the kneading-trough he had brought with him from home, got in, and rowed across the lake. When he reached the other side he began to walk along the shore, and to sprinkle and strew the grain, and at last he coaxed the ducks into his kneading-trough, and rowed back as fast as ever he could.
When he got half over, the Troll came out of his house, and set eyes on him.
“HALLOA!” roared out the Troll; “is it you that has gone off with my seven silver ducks.”
“AYE! AYE!” said the lad.
“Shall you be back soon?” asked the Troll.
“Very likely”, said the lad.
So when he got back to the king, with the seven silver ducks, he was more liked than ever, and even the king was pleased to say, “Well done!” But at this his brothers grew more and more spiteful and envious; and so they went and told the coachman that their brother had said, if he chose, he was man enough to get the king the Troll’s bed-quilt, which had a gold patch and a silver patch, and a silver patch and a gold patch; and this time, too, the coachman was not slow in telling all this to the king. So the king said to the lad, how his brothers had said he was good to steal the Troll’s bed-quilt, with gold and silver patches; so now he must go and do it, or lose his life.
Boots answered, he had never thought or said any such thing; but when he found there was no help for it, he begged for three days to think over the matter.
So when the three days were gone, he rowed over in his kneading-trough, and went spying about. At last he saw those in the Troll’s cave come out and hang the quilt out to air, and as soon as ever they had gone back into the face of the rock, Boots pulled the quilt down, and rowed away with it as fast as he could.
And when he was half across, out came the Troll and set eyes on him, and roared out:
“HALLOA! Is it you who took my seven silver ducks?”
“AYE! AYE!” said the lad.
“And now, have you taken my bed-quilt, with silver patches and gold patches, and gold patches and silver patches?”
“Aye! aye!” said the lad.
“Shall you come back again?”
“Very likely”, said the lad.
But when he got back with the gold and silver patchwork quilt, every one was fonder of him than ever, and he was made the king’s body-servant.
At this, the other two were still more vexed, and, to be revenged, they went and told the coachman:
“Now, our brother has said, he is man enough to get the king the gold harp which the Troll has, and that harp is of such a kind, that all who listen when it is played grow glad, however sad they may be.”
Yes! the coachman went and told the king, and he said to the lad:
“If you have said this, you shall do it. If you do it, you shall have the Princess and half the kingdom. If you don’t, you shall lose your life.”
“I’m sure I never thought or said anything of the kind”, said the lad; “but if there’s no help for it, I may as well try; but I must have six days to think about it.”
Yes! he might have six days, but when they were over, he must set out.
Then he took a tenpenny nail, a birch-pin, and a waxen taper-end in his pocket, and rowed across, and walked up and down before the Troll’s cave, looking stealthily about him. So when the Troll came out, he saw him at once.
“HO, HO!” roared the Troll; “is it you who took my seven silver ducks?”
“AYE! AYE!” said the lad.
“And it is you who took my bed-quilt, with the gold and silver patches?” asked the Troll.
“Aye! aye!” said the lad.
So the Troll caught hold of him at once, and took him off into the cave in the face of the rock.
“Now, daughter dear”, said the Troll, “I’ve caught the fellow who stole the silver ducks and my bed-quilt, with gold and silver patches; put him into the fattening coop, and when he’s fat, we’ll kill him, and make a feast for our friends.”
She was willing enough, and put him at once into the fattening coop, and there he stayed eight days, fed on the best, both in meat and drink, and as much as he could cram. So, when the eight days were over, the Troll said to his daughter to go down and cut him in his little finger, that they might see if he were fat. Down she came to the coop.
“Out with your little finger!” she said.
But Boots stuck out his tenpenny nail, and she cut at it.
“Nay! nay! he’s as hard as iron still”, said the Troll’s daughter, when she got back to her father; “we can’t take him yet.”
After another eight days the same thing happened, and this time Boots stuck out his birchen pin.
“Well, he’s a little better”, she said, when she got back to the Troll; “but still he’ll be as hard as wood to chew.”
But when another eight days were gone, the Troll told his daughter to go down and see if he wasn’t fat now.
“Out with your little finger”, said the Troll’s daughter, when she reached the coop, and this time Boots stuck out the taper end.
“Now he’ll do nicely”, she said.
“Will he?” said the Troll. “Well, then, I’ll just set off and ask the guests; meantime you must kill him, and roast half and boil half.”
So when the Troll had been gone a little while, the daughter began to sharpen a great long knife.
“Is that what you’re going to kill me with?” asked the lad.
“Yes it is,” said she.
“But it isn’t sharp”, said the lad. “Just let me sharpen it for you, and then you’ll find it easier work to kill me.”
So she let him have the knife, and he began to rub and sharpen it on the whetstone.
“Just let me try it on one of your hair plaits; I think it’s about right now.”
So he got leave to do that; but at the same time that he grasped the plait of hair, he pulled back her head, and at one gash, cut off the Troll’s daughter’s head; and half of her he roasted and half of her he boiled, and served it all up.
After that he dressed himself in her clothes, and sat away in the corner.
So when the Troll came home with his guests, he called out to his daughter—for he thought all the time it was his daughter—to come and take a snack.
“No, thank you”, said the lad, “I don’t care for food, I’m so sad and downcast.”
“Oh!” said the Troll, “if that’s all, you know the cure; take the harp, and play a tune on it.”
“Yes!” said the lad; “but where has it got to; I can’t find it.”
“Why, you know well enough”, said the Troll; “you used it last; where should it be but over the door yonder?
The lad did not wait to be told twice; he took down the harp, and went in and out playing tunes; but, all at once he shoved off the kneading-trough, jumped into it, and rowed off, so that the foam flew around the trough.
After a while the Troll thought his daughter was a long while gone, and went out to see what ailed her; and then he saw the lad in the trough, far, far out on the lake.
“HALLOA! Is it you”, he roared, “that took my seven silver ducks?”
“AYE, AYE!” said the lad.
“Is it you that took my bed-quilt, with the gold and silver patches.”
“Yes!” said the lad.
“And now you have taken off my gold harp?” screamed the Troll.
“Yes!” said the lad; “I’ve got it, sure enough.”
“And haven’t I eaten you up after all, then?”
“No, no! ’twas your own daughter you ate”, answered the lad.
But when the Troll heard that, he was so sorry, he burst; and then Boots rowed back, and took a whole heap of gold and silver with him, as much as the trough could carry. And so, when he came to the palace with the gold harp, he got the Princess and half the kingdom, as the king had promised him; and, as for his brothers, he treated them well, for he thought they had only wished his good when they said what they had said.
GOOSEY GRIZZEL
Once on a time there was a widower, who had a housekeeper named Grizzel, who set her mutch at him and teazed him early and late to marry her. At last the man got so weary of her, he was at his wits’ end to know how to get rid of her. So it fell on a day, between hay time and harvest, the two went out to pull hemp. Grizzel’s head was full of her good looks and her handiness, and she worked away at the hemp till she grew giddy from the strong smell of the ripe seed, and at last down she fell flat, fast asleep among the hemp. While she slept, her master got a pair of scissors and cut her skirts short all round, and then he rubbed her all over, face and all, first with tallow and then with soot, till she looked worse than the Deil himself. So, when Grizzel woke and saw how ugly she was, she didn’t know herself.
“Can this be me now?” said Grizzel. “Nay, nay! it can never be me. So ugly have I never been; it’s surely the Deil himself?”
Well! that she might really know the truth, she went off and knocked at her master’s door, and asked,
“Is your Girzie at home the day, father?”
“Aye, aye, our Girzie is at home safe enough”, said the man, who wanted to be rid of her.
“Well, well!” she said to herself, “then I can’t be his Grizzel,” and stole away; and right glad the man was, I can tell you.
So, when she had walked a bit she came to a great wood, where she met two thieves. “The very men for my money, thought Grizzel, “since I am the Deil, thieves are just fit fellows for me.”
But the thieves were not of the same mind, not they. As soon as they set eyes on her, they took to their heels as fast as they could, for they thought the Evil One was come to catch them. But it was no good, for Grizzel was long-legged and swift-footed, and she came up with them before they knew where they were.
“If you’re going out to steal, I’ll go with you and help,” said Grizzel, “for I know the whole country round.” So, when the thieves heard that, they thought they had found a good mate, and were no longer afraid.
Then they said they were off to steal a sheep, only they didn’t know where to lay hold of one.
“Oh!” said Grizzel, “that’s a small matter, for I was maid with a farmer ever so long out in the wood yonder, and I could find the sheepfold, though the night were dark as pitch.”
The thieves thought that grand; and when they came to the place, Grizzel was to go into the fold and turn out the sheep, and they were to lay hold on it. Now, the sheepfold lay close to the wall of the room where the farmer slept, so Grizzel crept quite softly and carefully into the fold; but, as soon as she got in, she began to scream out to the thieves, “Will you have a wether or a ewe? here are lots to choose from.”
“Hush, hush!” said the thieves, “only take one that is fine and fat.”
“Yes, yes! but will you have a wether or a ewe? will you have a wether or a ewe? for here are lots to choose from,” screeched Grizzel.
“Hush, hush!” said the thieves again, “only take one that’s fine and fat; it’s all the same to us whether it’s a wether or a ewe.”
“Yes!” screeched Grizzel, who stuck to her own; “but will you have a wether or a ewe—a wether or a ewe? here are lots to choose from.”
“Hold your jaw!” said the thieves, “and take a fine fat one, wether or ewe, its all one to us.”
But just then out came the farmer in his shirt, who had been waked by all this clatter, and wanted to see what was going on. So the thieves took to their heels, and Grizzel after them, upsetting the farmer in her flight.
“Stop, boys! stop, boys!” she screamed; but the farmer, who had only seen the black monster, grew so afraid that he could scarce stand, for he thought it was the Deil himself that had been in his sheepfold. The only help he knew was, to go indoors and wake up the whole house; and they all sat down to read and pray, for he had heard that was the way to send the Deil about his business.
Now the next night the thieves said they must go and steal a fat goose, and Grizzel was to shew them the way. So when they came to the goosepen, Grizzel was to go in and turn one out, for she knew the ways of the place, and the thieves were to stand outside and catch it. But as soon as ever she got in she began to scream,
“Will you have goose or gander? you may pick and choose here.”
“Hush hush! choose only a fine fat one”, said the thieves. “Yes, yes! but will you have goose or gander—goose or gander? you may pick and choose”, screamed Grizzel.
“Hush, hush! only choose one that’s fine and fat, and it’s all one to us whether it’s goose or gander; but do hold your jaw”, said they.
But while Grizzel and the thieves were settling this, one of the geese began to cackle, and then another cackled, and then the whole flock cackled and hissed, and out came the farmer to see what all the noise could mean, and away went the thieves, and Grizzel after them, at full speed, and the farmer thought again it was the black Deil flying away; for long-legged she was, and she had no skirts to hamper her.
“Stop a bit, boys!” she kept on screaming, “you might as well have said whether you would have goose or gander?”
But they had no time to stop, they thought; and, as for the farmer, he began to read and pray with all his house, small and great, for they thought it was the Deil, and no mistake.
Now, the third day, when night came, the thieves and Grizzel were so hungry they did not know what to do; so they made up their minds to go to the larder of a rich farmer, who lived by the wood’s side, and steal some food. Well, off they went, but the thieves did not dare to venture themselves, so Grizzel was to go up the steps which led to the larder, and hand the food out, and the others were to stand below and take it from her. So when Grizzel got inside, she saw the larder was full of all sorts of things, fresh meat and salt, and sausages and oat-cake. The thieves begged her to be still, and just throw out something to eat, and to bear in mind how badly they had fated for two nights. But Grizzel stuck to her own, that she did.
“Will you have fresh meat, or salt, or sausages, or oat-cake? Just look, what a lovely oat-cake”, she bawled out enough to split your head. “You may have what you please, for here’s plenty to choose from.”
But the farmer woke with all this noise, and ran out to see what it all meant. As for the thieves, off they ran as fast as they could; but while the farmer was looking after them, down came Grizzel so black and ugly.
“Stop a bit! stop a bit, boys!” she bellowed; “you may have what you please, for there’s plenty to choose from.”
And when the farmer saw that ugly monster, he, too, thought the Deil was loose, for he had heard what had happened to his neighbours the evenings before; so he began both to read and pray, and every one in the whole parish began to read and pray, for they knew that you could read the Deil away.
The next evening was Saturday evening, and the thieves wanted to steal a fat ram for their Sunday dinner; and well they might, for they had fasted many days. But they wouldn’t have Grizzel with them at any price. She brought bad luck with her jaw, they said; so while Grizzel was walking about waiting for them on Sunday morning, she got so awfully hungry—for she had fasted for three days—that she went into a turnip-field and pulled up some turnips to eat. But when the farmer who owned the turnips rose, he felt uneasy in his mind, and thought he would just go and take a look at his turnips on the Sunday morning. So he pulled on his trousers and went across the moss which lay under the hill, where the turnip-field lay. But when he got to the bottom of the field, he saw something black walking about in the field and pulling up his turnips, and he soon made up his mind that it was the Deil. So away he ran home as fast as he could, and said the Deil was among the turnips. This frightened the whole house out of their wits, and they agreed they’d best send for the priest, and get him to bind the Deil.
“That won’t do”, said the goodwife, “this is Sunday morning, you’ll never get the priest to come; for either he’ll be in bed; or if he’s up, he’ll be learning his sermon by heart.”
“Oh!” said the goodman, “never fear; I’ll promise him a fat loin of veal, and then he’ll come fast enough.”
So off he went to the priest’s house; but when he got there, sure enough, the priest was still in bed. The maid begged the farmer to walk into the parlour while she ran up to the priest, and said:
“Farmer So-and-So was downstairs, and wished to have a word with him.”
Well! when the priest heard that such a worthy man was downstairs, he got up at once, and came down just as he was, in his slippers and nightcap.
So the goodman told his errand; how the Deil was loose in his turnip-field; and if the priest would only come and bind him, he would send him a fat loin of veal. Yes! the priest was willing enough, and called out to his groom, to saddle his horse, while he dressed himself.
“Nay, nay, father!” said the man; “the Deil won’t wait for us long, and no one knows where we shall find him again if we miss him now. Your reverence must come at once, just as you are.”
So the priest followed him just as he was, with the clothes he stood in, and went off in his nightcap and slippers. But when they got to the moss, it was so moist the priest couldn’t cross it in his slippers. So the goodman took him on his back to carry him over. On they went, the goodman picking his way from one clump to the other, till they got to the middle; then Grizzel caught sight of them, and thought it was the thieves bringing the ram.
“Is he fat?” she screamed; “is he fat?” and made such a noise that the wood rang again.
“The Deil knows if he’s fat or lean; I’m sure I don’t”, said the goodman, when he heard that; “but, if you want to know, you had better come yourself and see.”
And then he got so afraid, he threw the priest head over heels into the soft wet moss, and took to his legs; and if the priest hasn’t got out, why I dare say he’s lying there still.
THE LAD WHO WENT TO THE NORTH WIND
Once on a time there was an old widow who had one son; and as she was poorly and weak, her son had to go up into the safe to fetch meal for cooking; but when he got outside the safe, and was just going down the steps, there came the North Wind, puffing and blowing, caught up the meal, and so away with it through the air. Then the lad went back into the safe for more; but when he came out again on the steps, if the North Wind didn’t come again and carry off the meal with a puff; and, more than that, he did so the third time. At this the lad got very angry; and as he thought it hard that the North Wind should behave so, he thought he’d just look him up, and ask him to give up his meal.
So off he went, but the way was long, and he walked and walked; but at last he came to the North Wind’s house.
“Good day!” said the lad, “and thank you for coming to see us yesterday.”
“GOOD DAY!” answered the North Wind, for his voice was loud and gruff, “AND THANKS FOR COMING TO SEE ME. WHAT DO YOU WANT?”
“Oh!” answered the lad, “I only wished to ask you to be so good as to let me have back that meal you took from me on the safe steps, for we haven’t much to live on; and if you’re to go on snapping up the morsel we have, there’ll be nothing for it but to starve.”