Part 12

One day, however--how it came about I know not--but anyhow he fell into a brown study, and never noticed that he had overstepped the domains of the Half-man till, after taking a dozen steps or so onwards, he found himself face to face with the monster. That he was trespassing on the grounds of this stunted and terrible creature did not trouble him over-much, it was the thought that he had transgressed the dying command of his dear father that grieved him.

“Ho, ho!” cried the hideous monster, “dost thou not know that every scoundrel who oversteps my bounds becomes my property?”

“Yes,” replied Aleodor, “but I must tell thee that it was through want of thought and without wishing it that I have trodden on thy ground. Against thee I have no evil design at all.”

“I know better than that,” replied the monster; “but I see that, like all cowards, thou dost think it best to make excuses.”

“Nay, so sure as God preserves me, I am no coward. I have told thee the simple truth; but if thou wouldst fight, I am ready. Choose thy weapons! Shall we slash with sabres, or slog with clubs, or wrestle together?”

“Neither the one nor the other,” replied the monster. “One way only canst thou escape thy just punishment--thou must fetch me the daughter of the Green Emperor!”

Aleodor would very much have liked to have got out of the difficulty some other way, as affairs of State would not allow him to take so long a journey, a journey on which he could find no guide to direct him; but what did the monster know of all that? Aleodor felt that if he would avoid the shame of being thought a robber and a trampler on the rights of others, he must indeed find the daughter of the Green Emperor. Besides, he wanted to escape with a whole skin if he could; so at last he promised that he would do the service required of him.

Now the Half-man-riding-on-the-worse-half-of-a-lame-horse knew very well that, as a man of honour, Aleodor would never depart from his plighted word, so he said to him: “Go now, in God’s name, and may good luck attend thee!”

So Aleodor departed. He went on and on, thinking over and over again how he was to accomplish his task, and so keep his word, when he came to the margin of a pond, and there he saw a pike dashing its life out on the shore. He immediately went up to it to satisfy his hunger with it, when the pike said to him: “Slay me not, Boy-Beautiful![18] but cast me rather back into the water again, and then I will do thee good whenever thou dost think of me.”

Aleodor listened to the pike, and threw it back into the water again. Then the pike said to him again: “Take this scale, and whenever thou dost look at it and think of me I will be with thee.”

Then the youth went on further and marvelled greatly at such a strange encounter.

Presently he fell in with a crow that had one wing broken. He would have killed the crow and eaten it, but the crow said to him: “Boy-Beautiful, Boy-Beautiful! why wilt thou burden thy soul on my account? Far better were it if thou didst bind up my wing, and much good will I requite thee with for thy kindness.”

Aleodor listened, for his heart was as kind as his hand was cunning; and he bound up the crow’s wing. When he made ready to go on again, the crow said to him: “Take this feather, thou gallant youth! and whenever thou dost look at it and think of me, I will be with thee.”

Then Aleodor took the feather and went on his way. He hadn’t gone a hundred paces further when he stumbled upon an ant. He would have trodden upon it, when the ant said to him: “Spare my life, O Emperor Aleodor, and I’ll deliver thee also from death! Take this little bit of membrane from my wing, and whenever thou dost think of me, I’ll be with thee.”

When Aleodor heard these words, and how the ant called him by his name, he raised his foot again and let the ant go where it would. He also went on his way, and after journeying for I know not how many days he came at last to the palace of the Green Emperor. There he knocked at the door, and stood waiting for some one to come out and ask him what he wanted.

He stood there one day, he stood there two days, but as for any one coming out to ask him what he wanted, there was no sign of it. When the third day dawned, however, the Green Emperor called to his servants and gave them a talking to that they were likely to remember. “How comes it,” said he, “that a man should be standing at my gates three days without any one going out to ask him what he wants? Is this what I pay you wages for?”

The servants of the Green Emperor looked up, and they looked down, but they had not one word to say for themselves. At last they went and called Aleodor and led him before the Emperor.

“What dost thou want, my son?” inquired the Emperor; “and wherefore art thou waiting at the gates of my court?”

“I have come, great Emperor, to seek thy daughter.”

“Good, my son. But, first of all, we must make a compact together, for such is the custom of my court. Thou must hide thyself wheresoever thou wilt three times running. If my daughter finds thee all three times, thy head shall be struck off and stuck on a stake, the only one out of a hundred that has not a suitor’s head upon it. But if she does not find thee thrice, thou shalt have her from me with all imperial courtesy.”

“My hope, great Emperor, is in the Lord, Who will not allow me to perish. We will put something else on this stake of thine, but not the head of a man. Let us make the compact.”

“Thou dost agree?”

“I agree.”

So they made them a compact, and the deeds were drawn out and signed and sealed.

Then the daughter of the Emperor met him next day, and it was arranged that he should hide himself as best he could. But now he was in an agony that tortured him worse than death, for he bethought him again and again where and how he could best hide himself, for nothing less than his head was at stake. And as he kept walking about, and brooding and pondering, he remembered the pike. Then he took out the fish’s scale, looked at it, and thought of the fish’s master, and immediately, oh wonderful!--the pike stood before him and said: “What dost thou want of me, Boy-Beautiful?”

“What do I want? Thou mayest well ask that! Look what has happened to me! Canst thou not tell me what to do?”

“That is thy business no longer. Leave it to me!”

And immediately striking Aleodor with his tail, he turned him into a little shell-fish, and hid him among the other little shell-fish at the bottom of the sea.

When the damsel appeared, she put on her eye-glass and looked for him in every direction, but could see him nowhere. Her other wooers had hidden themselves in caves, or behind houses, or under haycocks and haystacks, or in some hole or corner, but Aleodor hid himself in such a way that the damsel began to fear that she would be vanquished. Then it occurred to her to turn her eye-glass towards the sea, and she saw him beneath a heap of mussels. But you must know that her eye-glass was a magic eye-glass.

“I see thee, thou rascal,” cried she, “how thou hast bothered me, to be sure! From being a man thou hast made thyself a mussel, and hidden thyself at the bottom of the sea.”

This he couldn’t deny, so of course he had to come up again.

But she said to the Emperor: “Methinks, dear father, this youth will suit me. He is nice and comely. Even if I find him all three times let me have him, for he is not stupid like the others. Why, thou canst see from his figure even how different he is.”

“We shall see,” replied the Emperor.

On the second day Aleodor bethought him of the crow, and immediately the crow stood before him, and said to him: “What dost thou want, my master?”

“Look now, senseless one! what has happened to me. Canst thou not show me a way out of it?”

“Let us try!” and with that it struck him with its wing and turned him into a young crow, and placed him in the midst of a flock of crows that were flying high in the air in the teeth of a fierce tempest.

Then the damsel came again with her eye-glass and searched for him in every direction. He was nowhere to be found. She looked for him on the earth, but he was not there. She looked for him in the rivers and in the sea, but he was not there. The damsel grew pensive. She searched and searched till mid-day, when it occurred to her to look upwards also. And perceiving him in the glory of the sky in the midst of a swarm of crows, she pointed him out with her finger and cried: “Look! look! Rogue that thou art! Come down from there, O man, that hast made thyself into a bit of a bird! Nothing in the fields of heaven can escape my eye!”

Then he came down, for what else could he do? Even the Emperor himself now began to be amazed at the skill and cunning of Aleodor, and lent an ear to the prayers of his daughter. Inasmuch, however, as the compact declared that Aleodor was to hide three times, the Emperor said to his daughter: “Wait once more, for I am curious to see what place he will find to hide himself in next.”

The third day, early in the morning, he thought of the ant, and--whisk!--the ant was by his side. When she had found out what he wanted she said to him: “Leave it to me, and if she find thee I am here to help thee.”

So the ant turned him into a flower-seed, and hid him in the very skirts of the damsel without her perceiving it.

Then the Emperor’s daughter rose up, took her eye-glass, and sought for him all day long, but look where she would she could not find him. She plagued herself almost to death in her search, for she felt that he was close at hand, though see him she could not. She looked through her eye-glass on the ground, and in the sea, and up in the sky, but she could see him nowhere, and towards evening, tired out by so much searching, she exclaimed: “Show thyself then, this once! I feel that thou art close at hand, and yet I cannot see thee. Thou hast conquered, and I am thine.”

Then when he heard her say that he had conquered, he slipped slowly down from her skirts and revealed himself. The Emperor had now nothing more to say, so he gave the youth his daughter, and when they departed, he escorted them to the boundaries of his empire with great pomp and ceremony.

While they were on the road they stopped at a place to rest, and after they had refreshed themselves somewhat with food, he laid his head in her lap and fell asleep. The daughter of the Emperor could not forbear from looking at him, and her eyes filled with tears as they feasted on his comeliness and beauty. Then her heart grew soft within her, and she could not help kissing him. But Aleodor, when he awoke, gave her a buffet with the palm of his hand that awoke the echoes.

“Nay but, my dear Aleodor!” cried she, “thou hast indeed a heavy hand.”

“I have slapped thee,” said he, “for the deed thou hast done, for I have not taken thee for myself, but for him who bade me seek thee.”

“Good, my brother! but why didst thou not tell me so at home? for then I also would have known what to do. But let be now, for all that is past.”

Then they set out again till they came alive and well to the Half-man-riding-on-the-worse-half-of-a-lame-horse.

“Lo, now! I have done my service,” said Aleodor, and with that he would have departed. But when the girl beheld the monster, she shivered with disgust, and would not stay with him for a single moment. The hideous cripple drew near to the maiden, and began to caress her with honeyed words, that so she might go with him willingly. But the girl said to him: “Depart from me, Satan, and go to thy mother Hell, who hath cast thee upon the face of the earth!” Then the half-monster half-man was near to melting for the love he had for the damsel, and, writhing away on his belly, he fetched his mother that she might help to persuade the maid to be his wife. But meanwhile the damsel had dug a little trench all round her, and stood rooted to the spot with her eyes fixed on the ground. The hideous satanic skeleton of a monster could not get at her.

“Depart from the face of the earth, thou abomination!” cried she; “the world is well rid of such a pestilential monster as thou art!”

Still he strove and strove to get at her, but finding at last he could not reach her, he burst with rage and fury that a mere woman should have so covered him with shame and reproach.

Then Aleodor added the domain of the Half-man-riding-on-the-worse-half-of-a-lame-horse to his own possessions, took the daughter of the Green Emperor to wife, and returned to his own empire. And when his people saw him coming back in the company of a smiling spouse as beautiful as the stars of heaven, they welcomed him with great joy, and, mounting once more his imperial throne, he ruled his people in peace and plenty till the day of his death.

And now I’ll mount my horse again, and say an “Our Father” before I go.

THE ENCHANTED HOG

Once upon a time, a long long time ago, when fleas were shod with ninety and nine pieces of iron, and flew up into the blue sky to fetch us down fairy-tales, there lived an Emperor who had three daughters. One day, when he was going to battle, he called these daughters to him and said to them:

“Look now, my darlings! Needs must that I go to the wars. My foe is advancing against me with a huge host. ’Tis with great bitterness of heart that I part from you. In my absence, take care that you have your wits about you, behave well, and look after the affairs of the household. You have my leave to walk in the garden and enter all the rooms of my house, only in the chamber at the bottom of the corridor on the right-hand side you must not enter, or it will not be well with you.”

“Depart in peace, papa!” cried they. “Never yet have we disobeyed the words of thy commands. Go without any fear of us, and God give thee victory over all thine enemies!”

So when he was quite ready to depart, the Emperor gave them the keys of all his chambers; but once more he put them in mind of his command, and then he bade them good-bye and departed.

The daughters of the Emperor kissed his hand with tears in their eyes, and wished him victory once more, and then the eldest of the three daughters received the keys from the hands of the Emperor.

When the daughters of the Emperor found themselves all alone they knew not what to do with themselves, the time hung so heavily. At last they agreed to work a part of the day, and to read another part of the day, and spend the rest of the day walking in the garden. This they did, and things went well with them.

But the Deceiver of mankind was vexed at the tranquillity of the maidens, so he must needs twist his tail in their affairs.

“My sisters,” said the eldest of the three damsels one day, “why do we spend the live-long day in sewing and knitting and reading? I am sick and tired of it all. It is ever so many days now since we were left to ourselves, and there’s not a corner of the garden that we have not walked in over and over again. We have also been through all the rooms of our father’s palace, and looked at all the ornaments there till we know them by heart. Let us now enter into that chamber which our father told us not to enter.”

“Woe is me, dear sister!” said the youngest damsel. “I wonder that thou shouldst persuade us to tread underfoot the precepts of our father. When our father told us not to enter there, he must needs have known what he was saying, and why he told us so to do.”

“Dost thou fancy, silly, that there’s some evil serpent there that will eat us, or some other foul beast perhaps?” cried the middle sister. “Besides, how is papa to know whether we were there or not?”

Talking and arguing thus, they had reached the door of the chamber, and the eldest sister, who was the guardian of the keys, popped the key into the key-hole, and turning it round--crack-rack!--the door flew wide open.

The damsels entered.

What do you think they saw there? The room was bare of furniture, but in the middle of it stood a large table covered with a beautiful cloth, and on the top of it was a wide-open book.

The girls, all full of impatience, wanted to find out what was written in this book, and the eldest went up to it and read these words: “The eldest daughter of the Emperor will marry a son of the Emperor of the East.”

Then the second daughter went up to the book, and turning over the leaf, read these words: “The second daughter of the Emperor will marry a son of the Emperor of the West.”

The girls laughed and made merry at these words, and giggled and joked among themselves. But the youngest daughter would not go up to the book.

But the elder ones would not leave her in peace, but dragged her up to the long table, and then, though very unwillingly, she turned over the leaf and read these words--

“The youngest daughter of the Emperor will have a pig for her spouse.”

A thunderbolt falling from the sky could not have hurt her more than the reading of these words. She was like to have died of horror, and if her sisters had not held her she would have dashed her head to pieces against the ground.

When she had come to herself again, her sisters began to try to comfort her. “How canst thou believe all that nonsense?” said they. “When didst thou ever hear of the daughter of an Emperor marrying a pig?”

“What a baby thou art!” added the eldest, “as if papa hadn’t armies enough to save thee, even if so loathsome a monster as that _did_ come and try and make thee his wife!”

The youngest daughter of the Emperor would very much have liked to believe what her sisters said, but her heart would not allow it. She thought continually of the book which promised her sisters such handsome bridegrooms, while it foretold that that should happen to her which had never yet happened since the world began. Then she reflected how she had transgressed the commands of her father, and her heart smote her. She began to grow thin, and ere a few days had passed she had so changed that none could recognize her. She became sad and sallow, instead of rosy and rollicking, and could take part in nothing at all. She ceased to play with her sisters in the garden; she ceased to cull posies and make garlands of them for her head, and when her sisters sang over their distaffs and embroideries her voice was dumb.

Meanwhile the Emperor, the father of these girls, succeeded beyond even the wishes of his dearest friends, and vanquished and dispersed his enemies. As his thoughts were continually with his daughters, he did what he had to do quickly and returned home. Crowds and crowds of people turned out to meet him with fifes and drums and trumpets, and great was their joy at the sight of their victorious Emperor.

When he reached his capital, before going home, he gave thanks to God for aiding him against the enemies who had tried to do him evil. Then he went to his own house, and his daughters came out to meet him. His joy was great when he saw how well they were, for his youngest daughter did her best to appear as gay and happy as the others.

But it was not very long before the Emperor observed that, little by little, his youngest daughter was growing sadder and thinner. “What if she has broken my commands?” thought he, and as it were a red-hot iron pierced his soul. Then he called his daughters to him, and bade them speak the truth. They confessed, but they did not say which of them had first persuaded them.

When the Emperor heard this he was filled with bitterness, and from henceforth sadness took possession of him. But he held his tongue, and did but make all the more of his youngest daughter because he was about to lose her. What’s done is done, and he knew that thousands and thousands of words can’t make one farthing.

Time went on, and he had almost come to forget the circumstance, when one day there appeared at the Emperor’s court the son of the Emperor of the East, who sought the hand of his eldest daughter. The Emperor gave her to him with joy. They had a splendid wedding, and after three days he conducted them with great pomp to the frontier. A little while afterwards the same thing happened to the second daughter, for the son of the Emperor of the West came and sought her in marriage likewise.

Accordingly as she saw what had been written in the book gradually fulfilled, the youngest daughter of the Emperor grew sadder and sadder. She no longer enjoyed her food; she would not go out walking; she even lost all pleasure in raiment; she preferred to die rather than become the laughing-stock of the whole world. But the Emperor did not give her the opportunity of doing anything foolish, but took care to divert her with all manner of pleasant stories.

Time went on, and lo!--oh, wonderful!--one day a large hog entered the royal palace and said: “Hail, O Emperor! May thy days be as rosy and as joyous as sunrise on a cloudless day!”

“Good and fair is thy greeting, my son!” replied the Emperor; “but what ill wind hath blown thee hither, I should like to know?”

“I have come as a wooer,” replied the hog.

The Emperor marvelled greatly at hearing such a pretty speech in the mouth of a hog, and immediately felt within himself that all was not right here. He would have put the hog off with some excuse if he could, to save his daughter, but when he heard the court and all the ways leading to it full of the grunts of the hogs who had accompanied the wooer, he had nothing to say for himself, and promised the hog that he would do what it asked. But the hog was not content with his bare promise, but insisted that the wedding should take place within a week. Only when it had obtained the Emperor’s word that it should be so did it go away.

The Emperor told his daughter that she must submit to her fate, as it was clearly the will of God. Then he added: “My daughter, the speech and sensible bearing of this hog belong to no brute beast with which I am acquainted. I’ll wager my head upon it that he was never _born_ a hog. There must be a touch of sorcery here, or some other devilry. If thou art obedient, thou wilt not depart from thy given word, for God will not allow thee to be tormented for long.”

“If thou dost think it good, dear father,” replied the girl, “I will obey thee, and put my trust in God. Let Him do what He will with me. It must be so, I have no other way to turn.”

In the meantime the wedding-day arrived. The marriage was celebrated in secret. Then the hog got into one of the imperial carriages with his bride, and so they set off homewards.

On the journey they had to pass by a large marsh. The hog ordered the carriage to stop, got down, and wallowed about in the mire till he was pretty nearly one with it. Then he got into the carriage again, and told his bride to kiss him. Poor girl, what could she do? She took out her cambric pocket-handkerchief, wiped his snout a little, and then kissed him. “I am but obeying my father’s commands,” thought she.

At last they reached the hog’s house, which was in the midst of a dense forest. It was now evening, and when they had rested a little from the fatigues of the road they supped together and lay down to rest. In the night the daughter of the Emperor perceived that her husband was a man and not a hog, and she marvelled greatly. Then she called to mind the words of her father, and hope once more arose in her breast.

Every evening the hog shook off his hog-skin, and every morning before she awoke he put it on again.

One night passed, two nights passed, a great many nights passed, and the damsel could not make out how it was that her husband was a man at night and a hog in the daytime. For he was under a spell; an enchanter had done him this mischief.

Gradually she began to love him, especially when she felt that she was about to become a mother, but what grieved her most was that she was all alone, with none at hand to aid her in her hour of need.