Part 8

“I will do something more for you yet,” said the dwarf: “take some of those pears and apples with you; whoever eats one of the apples will have his nose grow like yours just now; but if you give him a pear, all will come right again. Go to the princess, and get her to eat some of your apples; her nose will grow twenty times as long as yours did: then look sharp, and you will get what you want from her.”

Then they thanked their old friend very heartily for all his kindness; and it was agreed that the poor soldier, who had already tried the power of the apple, should undertake the task. So he dressed himself up as a gardener’s boy, and went to the king’s palace, and said he had apples to sell, so fine and so beautiful as were never seen there before. Every one that saw them was delighted, and wanted to taste; but he said they were only for the princess; and she soon sent her maid to buy his stock. They were so ripe and rosy that she soon began eating; and had not eaten above a dozen before she too began to wonder what ailed her nose, for it grew and grew down to the ground, out at the window, and over the garden, and away, nobody knows where.

Then the king made known to all his kingdom that whoever would heal her of this dreadful disease should be richly rewarded. Many tried, but the princess got no relief. And now the old soldier dressed himself up very sprucely as a doctor, and said he could cure her. So he chopped up some of the apple, and, to punish her a little more, gave her a dose, saying he would call to-morrow and see her again. The morrow came, and, of course, instead of being better, the nose had been growing on all night as before; and the poor princess was in a dreadful fright. So the doctor then chopped up a very little of the pear and gave her, and said he was sure that would do good, and he would call again the next day. Next day came, and the nose was to be sure a little smaller, but yet it was bigger than when the doctor first began to meddle with it.

Then he thought to himself, “I must frighten this cunning princess a little more before I shall get what I want from her”; so he gave her another dose of the apple, and said he would call on the morrow. The morrow came, and the nose was ten times as bad as before. “My good lady,” said the doctor, “something works against my medicine, and is too strong for it; but I know by the force of my art what it is; you have stolen goods about you, I am sure; and if you do not give them back, I can do nothing for you.” But the princess denied very stoutly that she had anything of the kind. “Very well,” said the doctor, “you may do as you please, but I am sure I am right, and you will die if you do not own it.” Then he went to the king, and told him how the matter stood. “Daughter,” said he, “send back the cloak, the purse, and the horn, that you stole from the right owners.”

Then she ordered her maid to fetch all three, and gave them to the doctor, and begged him to give them back to the soldiers; and the moment he had them safe he gave her a whole pear to eat, and the nose came right. And as for the doctor, he put on the cloak, wished the king and all his court a good day, and was soon with his two brothers; who lived from that time happily at home in their palace, except when they took an airing to see the world, in their coach with the three dapple-grey horses.

* * * * *

Puck’s story made all laugh, and the more so because he artfully contrived a loud sneeze at the finish of it and set everybody thinking of what would have happened had the afflicted soldier or princess been given a pinch of snuff by some mischievous person passing by the ends of their noses. By a quick jerk forward Puck somersaulted on to the steps of Oberon’s throne where he made a low bow to the fairy king and queen and then jumped to a thin branch of a shrub growing near where crossing his legs again in his favourite attitude he swung gently to and fro waiting for the next story-teller. Who was it to be?

“Can we not have a song?” asked Titania.

“My queen speaks to be obeyed,” replied Oberon; “Robin, let us hear that song in which you tell of your doings among the mortals.”

Robin Goodfellow was never far away from the king, and at the royal request he promptly moved to the stool and standing up on it at once began the song that tells of

From Oberon in fairy-land The king of ghosts and shadows there, Mad Robin I, at his command Am sent to view the night sports here; What revel rout Is kept about, In every corner where I go, I will o’er see, And merry be, And make good sport with ho, ho, ho.

More swift than lightning can I fly About this airy welkin soon, And, in a minute’s space, descry Each thing that’s done below the moon: There’s not a hag Or ghost shall wag, Or cry, ware goblins, where I go; But Robin I Their feats will spy, And send them home with ho, ho, ho.

Whene’er such wanderers I meet, As from their night-sports they trudge home, With counterfeiting voice I greet And call them on, with me to roam Thro’ woods, thro’ lakes, Thro’ bogs, thro’ brakes; Or else, unseen, with them I go, All in the nick To play some trick And frolic it with ho, ho, ho.

Sometimes I meet them like a man, Sometimes an ox, sometimes a hound; And to a horse I turn me can, To trip and trot about them round But if to ride, My back they stride, More swift than wind away I go; O’er hedge and lands Thro’ pools and ponds, I whirry, laughing ho, ho, ho.

When lads and lassies merry be, With possets and with junkets fine, Unseen of all the company, I eat their cakes and sip their wine; And to make sport, I sneeze and snort, And out the candles I do blow; The maids I kiss; They shriek--who’s this? I answer nought but ho, ho, ho.

Yet now and then, the maids to please, At midnight I card up their wool; And while they sleep and take their ease, With wheel to threads their flax I pull. I grind at mill Their malt up still; I dress their hemp, I spin their tow. If any wake, And would me take, I wend me laughing ho, ho, ho!

When house or hearth doth sluttish lie, I pinch the maidens black and blue; The bed clothes from the bed pull I, And lay them naked all to view; ’Twixt sleep and wake I do them take, And on the key-cold floor them throw; If out they cry Then forth I fly And loudly laugh I, ho, ho, ho!

When any need to borrow aught We lend them what they do require, And for the use demand we naught Our own is all we do desire. If to repay They do delay Abroad amongst them then I go And night by night I them affright With pinchings, dreams, and ho, ho, ho!

When lazy queans have nought to do, But study how to cog and lie; To make debate and mischief too, ’Twixt one another secretly; I mark their gloze, And it disclose To them whom they have wronged so; When I have done, I get me gone, And leave them scolding, ho, ho, ho!

When men do traps and engines set In loop holes where the vermin creep, Who from their folds and houses get Their ducks and geese, and lambs and sheep, I spy the gin, And enter in, And seem a vermin taken so; But when they there Approach me near, I leap out laughing ho, ho, ho!

By wells and rills, in meadows green, We nightly dance our hey-day guise; And to our fairy King and Queen We chant our moonlight minstrelsies. When larks ’gin sing, Away we fling, And babes new born steal as we go, And elf in bed We leave instead And wend us, laughing, ho, ho, ho!

Whereas my fellow-elves and I In circled ring do trip around; If that our sports by any eye Do happen to be seen or found; If that they No words do say, But _mum_ continue as they go, Each night I do Put groat in shoe, And wind out laughing, ho, ho, ho!

From hag-bred Merlin’s time have I Thus nightly revelled to and fro; And for my pranks men call me by The name of Robin Goodfellow. Fiends, ghosts, and sprites Who haunt the nights, The hags and goblins do me know; And beldames old My feats have told, So Vale, Vale, ho, ho, ho!

With the last line of his song Robin Goodfellow disappeared off the stool so quickly that even his fellow-fairies were unable to see where he went, and at one moment heard him singing his farewell “Vale, Vale,” from the furthermost part of the fairy ring, and in the next instant, his laughing “ho, ho, ho!” came from the back of King Oberon’s throne. The whole fairy realm took up this laughing “ho, ho, ho!” and when it quieted down, there on the stool was sitting a Swedish troll who, without any preface, began telling a story of

The Golden Lantern, the Golden Goat, and the Golden Cloak

There was once a poor widow who had three sons. The two elder went out to work for their living and while at home they were of little use, as they seldom did as their mother wished, whatever she might say to them. But the youngest lad always remained at home, and helped the old widow in her daily occupations. Hence he was much beloved by his mother, but disliked by his brothers, who in mockery gave him the nickname of _Pinkel_.

One day the old widow said to her sons: “You must now go abroad in the world, and seek your fortunes while you can. I am no longer able to feed you here at home, now that you are grown up.” The lads answered that they wished for nothing better, since it was contrary to their mother’s will that they should remain at home. They then prepared for their departure, and set out on their journey; but, after wandering about from place to place, were unable to procure any employment.

After journeying thus for a long time, they came, late one evening, to a vast lake. Far out in the water there was an island, on which there appeared a strong light, as of fire. The lads stopped on shore observing the wondrous light, and thence concluded that there must be human beings in the place. As it was now dark, and the brothers knew not where to find a shelter for the night, they resolved on taking a boat that lay among the reeds, and rowing over to the island to beg a lodging. With this view they placed themselves in the boat and rowed across. On approaching the island they perceived a little hut standing at the water’s edge; on reaching which they discovered that the bright light, that shone over the neighbourhood, proceeded from a golden lantern, that stood at the door of the hut. In the yard without, a large goat was wandering about, with golden horns, to which small bells were fastened, that gave forth a pleasing sound whenever the animal moved. The brothers wondered much at all this, but most of all at the old crone, who with her daughter inhabited the hut. The crone was both old and ugly, but was sumptuously clad in a pelisse or cloak, worked so artificially with golden threads that it glittered like burnished gold in every hem. The lads saw now very clearly that they had come to no ordinary human being, but to a Troll.

After some deliberation the brothers entered, and saw the crone standing by the fire-place, and stirring with a ladle in a large pot that was boiling on the hearth. They told their story and prayed to be allowed to pass the night there; but the crone answered _no_, at the same time directing them to a royal palace, which lay on the other side of the lake. While speaking she kept looking intently on the youngest boy, as he was standing and casting his eyes over everything in the hut. The crone said to him: “What is thy name, my boy?” The lad answered smartly: “I am called Pinkel.” The Troll then said: “Thy brothers can go their way, but thou shalt stay here; for thou appearest to me very crafty, and my mind tells me that I have no good to expect from thee, if thou shouldst stay long at the king’s palace.” Pinkel now humbly begged to be allowed to accompany his brothers, and promised never to cause the crone harm or annoyance. At length he also got leave to depart; after which the brothers hastened to the boat, not a little glad that all three had escaped so well in this adventure.

Towards the morning they arrived at a royal palace, larger and more magnificent than anything they had ever seen before. They entered and begged for employment. The eldest two were received as helpers in the royal stables, and the youngest was taken as page to the king’s young son; and, being a sprightly intelligent lad, he soon won the good-will of every one, and rose from day to day in the king’s favour. At this his brothers were sorely nettled, not enduring that he should be preferred to themselves. At length they consulted together how they might compass the fall of their young brother, in the belief that afterwards they should prosper better than before.

They therefore presented themselves one day before the king, and gave him an exaggerated account of the beautiful lantern that shed light over both land and water, adding that it ill beseemed a king to lack so precious a jewel. On hearing this the king’s attention was excited, and he asked: “Where is this lantern to be found, and who can procure it for me?” The brothers answered: “No one can do that unless it be our brother Pinkel. He knows best where the lantern is to be found.” The king was now filled with desire to obtain the golden lantern, about which he had heard tell, and commanded the youth to be called. When Pinkel came, the king said: “If thou canst procure me the golden lantern, that shines over land and water, I will make thee the chief man in my whole court.” The youth promised to do his best to execute his lord’s behest, and the king praised him for his willingness; but the brothers rejoiced at heart; for they well knew it was a perilous undertaking, which could hardly terminate favourably.

Pinkel now prepared a little boat, and, unaccompanied by any one, rowed over to the island inhabited by the Troll crone. When he arrived it was already evening, and the crone was busied in boiling porridge for supper, as was her custom. The youth creeping softly up to the roof, cast from time to time a handful of salt through the chimney, so that it fell down into the pot that was boiling on the hearth. When the porridge was ready, and the crone had begun to eat, she could not conceive what had made it so salt and bitter. She was out of humour, and chided her daughter, thinking that she had put too much salt into the porridge; but let her dilute the porridge as she might, it could not be eaten, so salt and bitter was it. She then ordered her daughter to go to the well, that was just at the foot of the hill, and fetch water, in order to prepare fresh porridge. The maiden answered: “How can I go to the well? It is so dark out of doors, that I cannot find the way over the hill.” “Then take my gold lantern,” said the crone peevishly. The girl took the beautiful gold lantern accordingly, and hastened away to fetch the water. But as she stooped to lift the pail, Pinkel, who was on the watch, seized her by the feet, and cast her headlong into the water. He then took the golden lantern, and betook himself in all haste to his boat.

In the meantime the crone was wondering why her daughter stayed out so long, and, at the same moment, chancing to look through the window she saw the light gleaming far out on the water. At this sight she was sorely vexed, and, hurrying down to the shore, cried aloud: “Is that thou, Pinkel?” The youth answered: “Yes, dear mother, it is I.” The Troll continued: “art thou not a great knave?” The lad answered: “Yes, dear mother, I am so.” The crone now began to lament and complain, saying: “Ah! what a fool was I to let thee go from me; I might have been sure thou wouldst play me some trick. If thou ever comest hither again, thou shalt not escape.” And so the matter rested for that time.

Pinkel now returned to the king’s palace, and became the chief person at court, as the king had promised. But when the brothers were informed what complete success he had had in his adventure, they became yet more envious and embittered than before, and often consulted together how they might accomplish the fall of their young brother, and gain the king’s favour for themselves.

Both brothers went, therefore, a second time before the king, and began relating at full length about the beautiful goat that had horns of the purest gold, from which little gold bells were suspended, which gave forth a pleasing sound, whenever the animal moved. They added, that it ill became so rich a king to lack so costly a treasure. On hearing their story, the king was greatly excited, and said: “Where is this goat to be found, and who can procure it for me?” The brothers answered: “That no one can do, unless it be our brother Pinkel; for he knows best where the goat is to be found.” The king then felt a strong desire to possess the goat with the golden horns, and therefore commanded the youth to appear before him. When Pinkel came, the king said: “Thy brothers have been telling me of a beautiful goat with horns of the purest gold, and little bells fastened to the horns, which ring whenever the animal moves. Now it is my will that thou go and procure for me this goat. If thou art successful I will make thee lord over a third part of my kingdom.” The youth having listened to this speech, promised to execute his lord’s commission, if only fortune would befriend him. The king then praised his readiness, and the brothers were glad at heart, believing that Pinkel would not escape this time so well as the first.

Pinkel now made the necessary preparations and rowed to the island where the Troll-wife dwelt. When he reached it, evening was already advanced, and it was dark, so that no one could be aware of his coming, the golden lantern being no longer there, but shedding its light in the royal palace. The youth now deliberated with himself how to get the golden goat; but the task was no easy one; for the animal lay every night in the crone’s hut. At length it occurred to his mind that there was one method which might probably prove successful, though, nevertheless, sufficiently difficult to carry into effect.

At night, when it was time for the crone and her daughter to go to bed, the girl went as usual to bolt the door. But Pinkel was just outside on the watch, and had placed a piece of wood behind the door, so that it would not shut close. The girl stood for a long time trying to lock it but to no purpose. On perceiving this the crone thought there was something out of order, and called out, that the door might very well remain unlocked for the night; as soon as it was daylight they could ascertain what was wanting. The girl then left the door ajar and laid herself down to sleep. When the night was a little more advanced, and the crone and her daughter were snug in deep repose, the youth stole softly into the hut, and approached the goat where he lay stretched out on the hearth. Pinkel now stuffed wool into all the golden bells, lest their sound might betray him; then seizing the goat, he bore it off to his boat. When he had reached the middle of the lake, he took the wool out of the goat’s ears, and the animal moved so that the bells rang aloud. At the sound the crone awoke, ran down to the water, and cried in an angry tone: “Is that thou, Pinkel?” The youth answered: “Yes, dear mother, it is.” The crone said: “Hast thou stolen my gold goat?” The youth answered: “Yes, dear mother, I have.” The Troll continued: “Art thou not a big knave?” Pinkel returned for answer: “Yes, I am so, dear mother.” Now the beldam began to whine and complain saying: “Ah! what a simpleton was I for letting thee slip away from me. I well knew thou wouldst play me some trick. But if thou comest hither ever again, thou shalt never go hence.”

Pinkel now returned to the king’s court and obtained the government of a third part of the kingdom, as the king had promised. But when the brothers heard how the enterprise had succeeded, and also saw the beautiful lantern and the goat with golden horns, which were regarded by every one as great wonders, they became still more hostile and embittered than ever. They could think of nothing but how they might accomplish his destruction.

They went, therefore, one day again before the king, to whom they gave a most elaborate description of the Troll-crone’s fur cloak, that shone like the brightest gold, and was worked with golden threads in every seam. The brothers said, it was more befitting a queen than a Troll to possess such a treasure, and added that that alone was wanting to the king’s good fortune. When the king heard all this he became very thoughtful, and said: “Where is this cloak to be found, and who can procure it for me?” The brothers answered: “No one can do that except our brother Pinkel; for he knows best where the gold cloak is to be found.” The king was thereupon seized with an ardent longing to possess the gold cloak, and commanded the youth to be called before him. When Pinkel came, the king said: “I have long been aware that thou hast an affection for my young daughter; and thy brothers have been telling me of a beautiful fur cloak, which shines with the reddest gold in every seam. It is, therefore, my will that thou go and procure for me this cloak. If thou art successful, thou shalt be my son-in-law, and after me shalt inherit the kingdom.” When the youth heard this he was glad beyond measure, and promised either to win the young maiden, or perish in the attempt. The king thereupon praised his readiness; but the brothers were delighted in their false hearts, and trusted that that enterprise would prove their brother’s destruction.

Pinkel then betook himself to his boat and crossed over to the island inhabited by the Troll-crone. On the way he anxiously deliberated with himself how he might get possession of the crone’s gold cloak; but it appeared to him not very likely that his undertaking would prove successful, seeing that the Troll always wore the cloak upon her. So after having concerted divers plans, one more hazardous than another, it occurred to him, that he would try one method, which might perhaps succeed, although it was bold and rash.