CHAPTER XVII

IN WHICH SWEET WILLIAM TELLS ANOTHER STORY

Once upon a time there lived a miller, who because he was a kind-hearted man and as well off as anyone needs to be, had taken pity upon a poor little foundling and had given him a home in the mill. On a bitter winter’s night the child had been laid at his door, and the miller therefore christened him Jack Frost.

Some years later the miller took a wife, a young woman of a shrewish disposition and over-fond of money. She was not kind to little Jack Frost, and made him feel that he was a burden both to her husband and herself. Times were hard, she said, and he was too slow-witted to be of any real use about the mill. In the course of time a son was born to the miller’s wife, and then things went from bad to worse with the foundling.

Nevertheless Jack Frost felt that he had good friends near at hand, and these were none other than the Little People. In a field beyond the mill-race there was a fairy ring, in the centre of which grew a thorn-tree, and under this thorn-tree Jack Frost would sit by the hour, thinking and dreaming and talking to himself. More than once it had seemed to him that the fairy ring had brought him good fortune.

The first occasion was on an evening not long after the birth of the miller’s son, when Jack Frost had been set to mind the baby, while the miller’s wife cooked the supper. But being somewhat feather-headed, he forgot to rock the cradle, so that the baby woke up and began to cry. At that its mother grew so angry that she boxed the ears of Jack Frost and thrust him out of doors. But the miller felt sorry for him, and when his wife was not looking he went up to the table where a savoury dish had been set for his supper and hers, with a stale crust and a bowl of skimmed milk for the foundling. These he took, and stealing out of the mill by a back door gave them to the child, so that at least he might not have to go supperless to bed. Jack Frost thanked him, and went off to the field with the fairy ring in it, but no sooner had he sat down under the thorn-tree to eat his supper, than he discovered that he no longer held a crust and a bowl of skimmed milk, but a little new loaf and a bowl of cream.

Again, a few years later, when it was winter-time, the miller’s wife sent Jack Frost into the neighbouring town to do some errands for her. It was very cold, and the skies were overcast.

“It is going to snow,” said the miller, as he stood by the window, “you should not have sent the boy out so late, my dear.”

“A little snow never hurt anybody yet,” replied his wife, and she drew her shawl closer round her shoulders and poked the fire.

Meanwhile Jack Frost was making his way home from the town, but before the mill came in sight it began to snow, and soon it was snowing so fast that he could not see a yard ahead of him. Thicker and thicker fell the flakes, blotting out hedge and stile and milestone. Jack Frost stumbled on a little farther, but he was cold and tired, and soon his legs began to give way under him. Then a great drowsiness overcame him, and he lay down to rest. As he fell asleep, it seemed to him that he was pillowed on a bed of down, and that a rich green canopy was spread above him, yet when he awoke in the morning, warm and well and light at heart, he saw that he had slept all night upon the snow, and that there was no canopy overhead save the little stunted thorn-tree.

Now when Jack Frost had grown to be a youth, a great calamity befell the country. Not long before, the queen had given birth to a son, and throughout the land there were great festivities to do honour to the heir. But on Roodmas Eve, when the fairies are abroad, they stole away the little prince, and put a changeling in his stead, so ugly and malicious that he soon became the plague and terror of the whole court. The king at once summoned all his wisest counsellors, and inquired of them what should be done in such a case, and they all with one accord assured him that there were but two remedies; either the fairy changeling must be made to laugh, or to refer in some way to his real age. Unfortunately, however, the new prince was far too cross-tempered to laugh under any circumstances, though the court jester and all the wits of the land did their utmost to amuse him; and though every device was tried to make him say that he had many and many a time seen the acorn turn to an oak and the oak to a cradle, the impish creature could not be induced to say anything of the sort. Then the king issued a proclamation, promising untold riches as a reward to anyone who should restore his son, but it was all to no purpose.

At last it came into the mind of the foundling at the mill to test the good-will which the Little People had to him. “I will set out in search of the king’s son,” said he, “who can tell but that I may persuade the fairies to give him up, for surely the People of Peace have shown themselves my friends?”

“A likely thing indeed,” sneered the miller’s wife, “that you should succeed where the wisest of the land have failed! I suppose it is the king’s proclamation which has put this nonsense into your head, but what would you do with all those riches, even if you had them, I should like to know? A great stupid loutish fellow like you!”

Jack Frost was not to be discouraged, however. He took a knapsack with him for his travels, and bidding good-bye to all at the mill, he set out. But first he thought he would like to go once more to the field beyond the mill-race, and take a last look at his thorn-tree; and no sooner had he stepped into the fairy ring, than he saw the fairies dancing in a circle round him.

“Whither away, Jack Frost?” asked they.

“I go in search of the king’s son,” replied the foundling.

“It is the fairy queen herself who has stolen him away,” said the elves, “for he was very fair of face.”

“Then I fear she will be loath to give him up,” sighed Jack Frost.

At that one of the elves stepped forward, and said; “Listen to me, Jack Frost. You have just one chance of success. Not so very long ago our queen was choosing a christening gift for a poor charcoal-burner’s child to whom she had promised to stand sponsor; all her choicest treasures were spread out before her, when suddenly a magpie swooped down and carried off a certain magic ring to its nest in a belfry. Now this ring was one of the queen’s most priceless gifts, for it conferred on him who should possess it the good-will of wind and weather, the friendship of all the dumb creatures, and the power of making himself beloved wherever he might love. The queen is much grieved at its loss, and since no fairy may enter a belfry, none but a mortal can recover it. Now if you should find this ring, it may be that in her gratitude the queen will consent to grant your request, to take back the changeling and to restore the king’s son.”

“How shall I find the belfry?” asked Jack Frost.

“Go by forest and road and sea, and you shall find it,” replied the elf, “but first, Jack Frost, tell me what it is that you see in our thorn-tree?”

“I see a nest,” replied Jack Frost, “and in it are seven speckled eggs.”

“Take three of them,” said the elf, “and you will find them useful. A bird does not build in the fairies’ tree for nothing.”

So Jack Frost took the three speckled eggs, thanked the Little People, and went his way. He soon came to a dense forest in which he wandered till nightfall without seeing any trace of a human dwelling. He was therefore very glad when at last he caught sight of a ruddy glint among the trees, and came upon a smithy in a clearing of the wood. Now this smithy belonged to a very wicked hobgoblin, who forged upon his anvil all the weapons that are wielded in unrighteous wars. Whoever fights in a wrongful quarrel or in defence of a bad cause, may be quite sure that his steel was forged at the hobgoblin’s smithy. But Jack Frost did not know this, and felt very thankful at having come across any kind of shelter, so approaching the smith he asked him for a night’s lodging.

“You shall have supper and a bed,” replied the hobgoblin, and leading Jack Frost into his house he gave him some broken victuals, and motioned him to a bed of straw. The foundling fell to with a good appetite, and then lay down upon the straw and fell fast asleep. In the morning he thanked his host for his hospitality, and prepared to continue his journey.

“Wait a bit,” said the hobgoblin, “you have not yet paid me for your supper, nor for your bed over-night.”

“Alas,” replied Jack Frost, “I cannot pay you save in thanks, good sir, for I have no money.”

“I have no need of money,” replied the wicked sprite, “but you must pay me in service. All who break my bread are bound to serve me for seven years. Make haste therefore to sweep my room and cook my breakfast.”

And so saying, he went out to his forge. As soon as Jack Frost was left alone, he took out the three speckled eggs, and broke them one after another, hoping to find inside either something which he might offer to the hobgoblin in payment of his debt, or at least some means of escape. But in this he was disappointed. The first egg contained a pod with three seeds in it, the second a gossamer lasso, and the third a tiny packet of eye-salve.

“These things are of but little use to me at present,” reflected the foundling sadly, and he submitted to his lot with as good a grace as might be. Seven years long he served the hobgoblin, who made him a hard master, but when the time had expired allowed him to go on his way unmolested.

Onwards through the forest went Jack Frost, sad at heart at the loss of time and the thwarting of his quest, and after some days’ wanderings he came upon a path which at last led him out of the wood and into open country. Soon, however, he reached a place where four roads met, and stood still in some perplexity. Then he bethought him of the pod with the three seeds, and cast one seed upon each of the three roads before him. Straightway three young trees shot up, all bearing leaves, while the tree on the right bore blossoms and fruits as well. He therefore took the right hand road, and walked along it for some considerable distance, till at length it sloped down to the sea shore and came to an end. Now upon the strand Jack Frost caught sight of a beautiful white horse, with streaming mane, and riderless, pacing to and fro.

“What is your name, fair steed?” asked he, “and who is your master?”

“My name is the wind,” the beautiful white horse made answer, “and I have no master.”

Then Jack Frost bethought him of the gossamer lasso, and threw it deftly, and caught the fleet-footed wind.

“Carry me across the water,” said he, “for there is neither boat nor bridge.”

“Then mount upon my back,” returned the wind, “and lean your head against my long mane, and shut your eyes, for should you look downwards you would surely turn giddy.”

So Jack Frost did as the wind bade him, and together they sped away across the waste of rolling billows that rocked and foamed far below them. Upon the opposite shore the wind set him down safely, and Jack Frost put his arms about the neck of the beautiful, swift steed, and kissed it between the eyes, but even as he did so the wild creature started away from him, and fled back across the sea.

Then Jack Frost turned and went on his way, glad at heart, for already he had caught a glimpse of an old ivy-clad belfry among thick-standing trees. Into the low-browed porch he went, and up the winding stair, till he found the magpie’s nest, and in among the sticks and straw he saw the gleam of the magic ring.

“And now it but remains to find the fairy queen,” said Jack Frost to himself, as he stood again in the open, “yet I know not where she holds her court.”

Then he bethought him of the tiny packet inside the third egg, and rubbing some of the eye-salve upon his eyes, he at once became aware of the fairy queen and her retinue, assembled in a grove close at hand. Then Jack Frost went and knelt to the queen, and offering her the magic ring, begged for the king’s son in exchange.

“So, young sir, you would rob me of my bonny page?” said she, with one fair hand held out for the ring, and the other resting upon the curls of a beautiful seven-year-old boy at her side. But she smiled very graciously as she spoke, for she was rejoiced at the recovery of the ring.

So the changeling returned whence he came, and the little prince was restored to his parents. As for Jack Frost, the foundling, he sat him down among the fairies in the grove, and having eaten and drunk in their midst, was seen of his own kind no more.