Part 41

“But won’t you swop him away to me?—we’ve got an old pair of boots here, with which you can take twenty miles at each stride; those you shall have for your horse, and so you’ll get all the sooner to SORIA MORIA CASTLE.”

That Halvor was willing to do at once; and the old wife was so glad at having the horse, she was ready to dance and skip for joy.

“For now”, she said, “I shall be able to ride to church. I too, think of that.”

As for Halvor, he had no rest, and wanted to be off at once, but the old wife said there was no hurry.

“Lie down on the bench with you and sleep a bit, for we’ve no bed to offer you, and I’ll watch and wake you when the West Wind comes.”

So after a while up came the West Wind, roaring and howling along till the walls creaked and groaned again.

Out ran the old wife.

“THOU WEST WIND, THOU WEST WIND! Canst thou tell me the way to SORIA MORIA CASTLE? Here’s one who wants to get thither.”

“Yes, I know it very well”, said the West Wind, and now I’m just off thither to dry clothes for the wedding that’s to be; if he’s swift of foot he can go along with me.”

Out ran Halvor.

“You’ll have to stretch your legs if you mean to keep up”, said the West Wind.

So off he set over field and hedge, and hill and fell, and Halvor had hard work to keep up.

“Well”, said the West Wind, “now I’ve no time to stay with you any longer, for I’ve got to go away yonder and tear down a strip of spruce wood first before I go to the bleaching-ground to dry the clothes; but if you go alongside the hill you’ll come to a lot of lassies standing washing clothes, and then you’ve not far to go to SORIA MORIA CASTLE.”

In a little while Halvor came upon the lassies who stood washing, and they asked if he had seen anything of the West Wind who was to come and dry the clothes for the wedding. “Aye, aye, that I have”, said Halvor, “he’s only gone to tear down a strip of spruce wood. It’ll not be long before he’s here”, and then he asked them the way to SORIA MORIA CASTLE.

So they put him into the right way, and when he got to the Castle it was full of folk and horses; so full it made one giddy to look at them. But Halvor was so ragged and torn from having followed the West Wind through bush and brier and bog, that he kept on one side, and wouldn’t show himself till the last day when the bridal feast was to be.

So when all, as was then right and fitting, were to drink the bride and bridegroom’s health and wish them luck, and when the cupbearer was to drink to them all again, both knights and squires, last of all he came in turn to Halvor. He drank their health, but let the ring which the Princess had put upon his finger as he lay by the lake fall into the glass, and bade the cupbearer go and greet the bride and hand her the glass.

Then up rose the Princess from the board at once.

“Who is most worthy to have one of us”, she said, “he that has set us free, or he that here sits by me as bridegroom?”

Well they all said there could be but one voice and will as to that, and when Halvor heard that he wasn’t long in throwing off his beggar’s rags, and arraying himself as bridegroom.

“Aye, aye, here is the right one after all”, said the youngest Princess as soon as she saw him, and so she tossed the other one out of the window, and held her wedding with Halvor.

BRUIN AND REYNARD

The Bear and the Fox had once bought a firkin of butter together; they were to have it at Yule and hid it till then under a thick spruce bush.

After that they went a little way off and lay down on a sunny bank to sleep. So when they had lain a while the Fox got up, shook himself, and bawled out “yes”.

Then he ran off straight to the firkin and ate a good third part of it. But when he came back, and the Bear asked him where he had been, since he was so fat about the paunch, he said:

“Don’t you believe then that I was bidden to barsel, to a christening feast.”

“So, so”, said the Bear, “and pray what was the bairn’s name.”

“Just-begun”, said the Fox.

So they lay down to sleep again. In a little while up jumped the Fox again, bawled out “yes”, and ran off to the firkin.

This time too he ate a good lump. When he came back, and the Bear asked him again where he had been, he said:

“Oh, wasn’t I bidden to barsel again, don’t you think.”

“And pray what was the bairn’s name this time”, asked the Bear.

“Half-eaten”, said the Fox.

The Bear thought that a very queer name, but he hadn’t wondered long over it before he began to yawn and gape and fell asleep. Well, he hadn’t lain long before the Fox jumped up as he had done twice before, bawled out “yes” and ran off to the firkin, which this time he cleared right out. When he got back he had been bidden to barsel again, and when the Bear wanted to know the bairn’s name, he answered:

“Licked-to-the-bottom.”

After that they lay down again, and slept a long time; but then they were to go to the firkin to look at the butter, and when they found it eaten up, the Bear threw the blame on the Fox, and the Fox on the Bear; and each said the one had been at the firkin while the other slept.

“Well, well”, said Reynard, “we’ll soon find this out, which of us has eaten the butter. We’ll just lay down in the sunshine, and he whose cheeks and chaps are greasiest when we wake, he is the thief.”

Yes, that trial Bruin was ready to stand; and as he knew in his heart he had never so much as tasted the butter, he lay down without a care to sleep in the sun.

Then Reynard stole off to the firkin for a morsel of butter, which stuck there in a crack, and then he crept back to the Bear, and greased his chaps and cheeks with it; and then he, too, lay down to sleep as if nothing had happened.

So when they both woke, the sun had melted the butter, and the Bear’s whiskers were all greasy; and so it was Bruin after all, and no one else, who had eaten the butter.

TOM TOTHERHOUSE

Once on a time there was a Goody who had a deaf husband. A good, easy man he was, but that was just why she thought more of the lad next door, whom they called “Tom Totherhouse”. Now the lad that served the deaf man saw very well that the two had something between them, and one day he said to the Goody:

“Dare you wager ten dollars, mother, that I don’t make you lay bare your own shame?”

“Yes I dare”, said she; and so they wagered ten dollars. So one day, while the lad and the deaf man stood thrashing in the barn, the lad saw that Tom Totherhouse came to see the Goody. He said nothing, but a good while before dinnertime he turned toward the barn-door, and bawled out “Halloa!”

“What! are we to go home already?” said the man, who hadn’t given any heed to what the lad did.

“Yes, we must, since mother calls”, said the lad.

So when they got into the passage, the lad began to hem and cough, that the Goody might get Tom Totherhouse out of the way. But when they came into the room, there stood a whole bowl of custards on the table.

“Nay, nay, mother”, cried out the man; “shall we have custards to-day?”

“Yes, that you shall, dear”, said the Goody; but she was as sour as verjuice, and as cross as two sticks.

So when they had eaten and drank all the good cheer up, off they went again to their work, and the Goody said to Tom:

“Deil take that lad’s sharp nose, this was all his fault; but now you must be off as fast as you can, and I’ll come down to you in the mead with a snack between meals.”

This the lad stood outside in the passage and listened to.

“Do you know, father”, he said, “I think we’d best go down into the hollow and put our fence to rights, which is blown down, before the neighbours’ swine get in and root up our meadow.”

“Aye, aye, let’s go and do it”, said the man; for he did all he was told, good, easy man.

So when the afternoon was half spent, down came the Goody sneaking along into the mead, with something under her apron.

“Nay, nay, mother”, said the man, “it can’t be you any longer; are we to have a snack between meals too?”

“Yes, yes, that you shall”, she said; but she was sourer and wilder than ever.

So they made merry, and crammed themselves with bannocks and butter, and had a drop of brandy into the bargain.

“I’ll go off to Tom Totherhouse with a snack—shan’t I, mother?” said the lad. “He’s had nothing between meals, I’ll be bound.”

“Ah! do; there’s a good fellow”, said the Goody, who all at once got as mild as milk.

As he went along the lad broke a bannock to bits, and dropped the crumbs here and there as he walked. But when he got to Tom Totherhouse he said:

“Now, just you take care, for our old cock has found out that you come too often to see our Goody. He won’t stand it any longer, and has sworn to drive his axe into you as soon as ever he can set eyes on you.”

As for Tom, he was so frightened he scarce knew which way to turn, and the lad went back again to his master.

“There’s something wrong”, he said, “with Tom’s plough, and he begs you to be so good as to take your axe, and go and see if you can’t set it right.”

Yes, the man set off with his axe, but Tom Totherhouse had scarce caught sight of him before he took to his heels as fast as he could. The man turned and twisted the plough round and round, and looked at it on every side, and when he couldn’t see anything wrong with it he went off home again; but on the way he picked up the bits of broken bannock which the lad had let fall. His old dame stood in the meadow and looked at him as he did this for a while, and wondered and wondered what it could be her husband was gathering up.

“Oh, I know”, said the lad, “master’s picking up stones, I’ll be bound; for he has marked how often this Tom Totherhouse runs over here; and the old fellow won’t stand it any longer; and now he has sworn to stone mother to death.”

Off went the Goody as fast as her legs could carry her.

“What in the world is it that mother is running after now?” asked the man, when he reached the spot where she had stood.

“Oh”, said the lad, “maybe the house at home is on fire!”

So there ran the husband behind and the Goody before; and as she ran she screeched out:

“Ah! ah! don’t stone me to death; don’t stone me to death! and I’ll give you my word never to let Tom Totherhouse come near me again.”

“Now the ten dollars are mine”, bawled out the lad; and so they were.

LITTLE ANNIE THE GOOSE-GIRL

Once on a time there was a King who had so many geese he was forced to have a lassie to tend them and watch them; her name was Annie, and so they called her “Annie the Goose-girl”. Now you must know there was a King’s son from England who went out to woo; and as he came along Ann sat herself down in his way.

“Sitting all alone there, you little Annie?” said the King’s son.

“Yes”, said little Annie, “here I sit and put stitch to stitch and patch on patch. I’m waiting to-day for the King’s son from England.”

“Him you mustn’t look to have”, said the Prince.

“Nay, but if I’m to have him”, said little Annie, “have him I shall, after all.”

And now limners were sent out into all lands and realms to take the likenesses of the fairest Princesses, and the Prince was to chose between them. So he thought so much of one of them, that he set out to seek her, and wanted to wed her, and he was glad and happy when he got her for his sweetheart.

But now I must tell you this Prince had a stone with him which he laid by his bedside, and that stone knew everything, and when the Princess came little Annie told her, if so be she’d had a sweetheart before, or didn’t feel herself quite free from anything which she didn’t wish the Prince to know, she’d better not step on that stone which lay by the bedside.

“If you do, it will tell him all about you”, said little Annie.

So when the Princess heard that she was dreadfully downcast, and she fell upon the thought to ask Annie if she would get into bed that night in her stead and lie down by the Prince’s side; and then when he was sound asleep, Annie should get out and the Princess should get in, and so when he woke up in the morning he would find the right bride by his side.

So they did that, and when Annie the goose-girl came and stepped upon the stone the Prince asked:

“Who is this that steps into my bed?”

“A maid pure and bright”, said the stone, and so they lay down to sleep; but when the night wore on the Princess came and lay down in Annie’s stead.

But next morning, when they were to get up, the Prince asked the stone again:

“Who is this that steps out of my bed?”

“One that has had three bairns”, said the stone. When the Prince heard that he wouldn’t have her, you may know very well; and so he packed her off home again, and took another sweetheart.

But as he went to see her, little Annie went and sat down in his way again.

“Sitting all alone there, little Annie, the goose-girl”, said the Prince.

“Yes, here I sit, and put stitch to stitch, and patch on patch; for I’m waiting to-day for the king’s son from England”, said Annie.

“Oh! you mustn’t look to have him”, said the king’s son.

“Nay, but if I’m to have him, have him I shall, after all”; that was what Annie thought.

Well, it was the same story over again with the Prince; only this time, when his bride got up in the morning, the stone said she’d had six bairns.

So the Prince wouldn’t have her either, but sent her about her business; but still he thought he’d try once more if he couldn’t find one who was pure and spotless; and he sought far and wide in many lands, till at last he found one he thought he might trust. But when he went to see her, little Annie the goose-girl had put herself in his way again.

“Sitting all alone there, you little Annie, the goose-girl”, said the Prince.

“Yes, here I sit, and put stitch to stitch, and patch on patch; for I’m waiting to-day for the king’s son from England”, said Annie.

“Him you mustn’t look to have”, said the Prince.

“Nay, but if I’m to have him, have him I shall, after all”, said little Annie.

So when the Princess came, little Annie the goose-girl told her the same as she had told the other two, if she’d had any sweetheart before, or if there was anything else she didn’t wish the Prince to know, she mustn’t tread on the stone that the Prince had put at his bedside; for, said she:

“It tells him everything.”

The Princess got very red and downcast when she heard that, for she was just as naughty as the others, and asked Annie if she would go in her stead and lie down with the Prince that night; and when he was sound asleep, she would come and take her place, and then he would have the right bride by his side when it was light next morning.

Yes! they did that. And when little Annie the goose-girl came and stepped upon the stone, the Prince asked:

“Who is this that steps into my bed.”

“A maid pure and bright”, said the stone; and so they lay down to rest.

Farther on in the night the Prince put a ring on Annie’s finger, and it fitted so tight she couldn’t get it off again; for the Prince saw well enough there was something wrong, and so he wished to have a mark by which he might know the right woman again.

Well, when the Prince had gone off to sleep, the Princess came and drove Annie away to the pigsty, and lay down in her place. Next morning, when they were to get up, the Prince asked:

“Who is this that steps out of my bed?”

“One that’s had nine bairns”, said the stone.

When the Prince heard that he drove her away at once, for he was in an awful rage; and then he asked the stone how it all was with these Princesses who had stepped on it, for he couldn’t understand it at all, he said.

So the stone told him how they had cheated him, and sent little Annie the goose-girl to him in their stead.

But as the Prince wished to have no mistake about it, he went down to her where she sat tending her geese, for he wanted to see if she had the ring too, and he thought, “if she has it, ’twere best to take her at once for my queen”.

So when he got down he saw in a moment that she had tied a bit of rag round one of her fingers, and so he asked her why it was tied up.

“Oh! I’ve cut myself so badly”, said little Annie the goose-girl.

So he must and would see the finger, but Annie wouldn’t take the rag off. Then he caught hold of the finger; but Annie, she tried to pull it from him, and so between them the rag came off, and then he knew his ring.

So he took her up to the palace, and gave her much fine clothes and attire, and after that they held their wedding feast; and so little Annie the goose-girl came to have the king of England’s son for her husband after all, just because it was written that she should have him.

INTRODUCTION TO APPENDIX

ANANZI STORIES

The Negroes in the West Indies still retain the tales and traditions which their fathers and grandfathers brought with them from Africa. Some thirty years back these “Ananzi Stories”, as they are called, were invariably told at the Negro wakes, which lasted for nine successive nights. The reciters were always men. In those days when the slaves were still half heathen, and when the awful _Obeah_ was universally believed in, such of the Negroes as attended church or chapel kept their children away from these funeral gatherings. The wakes are now, it is believed, almost entirely discontinued, and with them have gone the stories. The Negroes are very shy of telling them, and both the clergyman of the Church of England, and the Dissenting Minister set their faces against them, and call them foolishness. The translator, whose early childhood was passed in those islands, remembers to have heard such stories from his nurse, who was an African born; but beyond a stray fragment here and there, the rich store which she possessed has altogether escaped his memory. The following stories have been taken down from the mouth of a West Indian nurse in his sister’s house, who, born and bred in it, is rather regarded as a member of the family than as a servant. They are printed just as she told them, and both their genuineness and their affinity with the stories of other races will be self-evident. Thus we have the “Wishing Tree” of the Hindoos, the _Kalpa Vriksha_ of Somadeva, and of the German Fairy Tales in the “Pumpkin Tree”, which throws down as many pumpkins as the poor widow wishes. In one story we have “Boots” to the life, while the man whom he outwits is own brother to the Norse Trolls. In another we find a “speaking beast”, which reminds us at once of the Egyptian story of Anessou and Satou, as well as of the “Machandelboom”, and “the Milk-white Doo”. We find here the woman who washes the dirty head rewarded, and the man who refuses to wash it punished, in the very words used in “The Bushy Bride”. We find, too, in “Nancy Fairy”, the same story, both in groundwork and incident, as we have in “the Lassie and her Godmother”; and most surprising of all, in the story of “Ananzi and Quanqua”, we find the very trait about a trick played with the tail of an ox, which is met with in a variation to “Boots who ate a match with the Troll”. Here is the variation: “Whilst he was with the Troll, the lad was to go out to watch the swine, so he drove them home to his father’s house, but first he cut their tails off, and stuck them into the ground. Then he went home to the Troll, and begged him to come and see how his swine were going down to Hell. But when the Troll saw the swine’s tails sticking out of the ground he wanted to pull them back again, so he caught hold of them and gave a great tug, and then down he fell with his heels up in the air, and the tails in his fist.”

They are called “Ananzi Stories”, because so many of them turn on the feats of Ananzi, whose character is a mixture of “the Master-thief”, and of “Boots”; but the most curious thing about him, is that he illustrates the Beast Epic in a remarkable way. In all the West Indian Islands, “Ananzi” is the name of spiders[1] in general, and of a very beautiful spider with yellow stripes in particular. The Negroes think that this spider is the “Ananzi” of their stories, but that his superior cunning enables him to take any shape he pleases. In fact, he is the example which the African tribes from which these stories came, have chosen to take as pointing out the superiority of wit over brute strength. In this way they have matched the cleverness and dexterity of the Spider, against the bone and muscle of the Lion, invariably to the disadvantage of the latter.