CHAPTER II.

HOW GREYBEARD OUTWITTED THE KING AND WON PRINCESS SIGRID.

And now we must take a peep at the king’s palace.

It was just a year since Prince Olaf had started on his travels, and as nothing had been heard of him from any of the knights or wandering minstrels who travelled about from one country to another, the king and queen told Sigrid that it was no use waiting any longer, and that she must marry the rich old king.

In vain she protested that she would rather not marry at all if she could not wed Olaf. But the king said that was all nonsense; princesses must marry. And so the preparations for the wedding were begun, for both the king and queen determined that the marriage feast should be on a most magnificent scale. All the neighbouring kings and queens, and princes and princesses were invited, and as the feasting was to continue for a whole week, all the royal cooks and bakers were busy from morning till night.

Now, the royal shepherd had noticed that, for some time past, one of the sheep from his flocks disappeared every few days. He puzzled his head to try and find out the cause, but so far he had not succeeded, and when the fifth sheep disappeared he went to the king and told him what had happened.

“There surely must be a thief about the court,” he added. “That is the only way I can account for the loss of the sheep.”

On hearing this the king got very angry, and immediately made inquiries if any strangers had been seen in the neighbourhood lately. At first he could learn nothing; but at last one of the servants said he had heard there was a little man dressed in grey whom no one knew, and who lived in the hut of old Geir and his wife.

Then the king sent messengers to the hut, commanding the immediate presence of the stranger in the great audience hall of the palace.

The old couple were greatly terrified when they heard this message. They made sure that their kind guest, through whose means they had been preserved from starvation, would be hanged as a thief. But Greybeard did not seem the least frightened, and prepared cheerfully to return with the king’s messenger.

When he entered the great hall, the king asked him if he was the man who had stolen the five sheep.

“Yes, sire,” replied Greybeard; “I do not deny it.”

“And pray, may I ask why you did it?” demanded the king.

“I did not go very far beyond my rights,” replied Greybeard. “Besides, the old people who live in the hut yonder, are no longer able to support themselves,” he continued; “they had no food, while you, oh king, have plenty, and more than you can possibly use. It seemed only fair to me, therefore, that they should have as much as they needed, of that which you did not require, and could not use.”

The king was at first inclined to be angry at this cool rejoinder; but he then became amused at Greybeard’s coolness—it just reminded him of what Prince Olaf used to do. So he laughed, and asked him if the art of thieving was the only thing he had ever learned.

“No, sire,” replied Greybeard, smiling; “I took no more than I had a fair right to, neither did I take it for myself, nor did I deprive you of anything you really needed.”

“Well,” said the king, “you certainly are a funny fellow, and always ready with an answer. But though I won’t hang you for stealing my sheep, I must give you a lesson. To-morrow I will send my servants into the forest with my young red bull. If you succeed in stealing him, you shall be pardoned, but if you fail, you shall be hanged.”

“I do not think I could steal the bull,” replied Greybeard, “for, of course, you will have him carefully guarded.”

“That is your affair,” answered the king; “see that you do not fail.”

When Greybeard returned to the hut, the old people received him with great joy, for they feared they should never see him again. He asked them if they had a stout rope, as he would need it next morning. Trude searched in her cupboards, and luckily found a nice bit of strong rope. This she gave Greybeard, and then all three retired to rest.

At break of day, Greybeard got up very quietly, dressed himself, and, taking the rope, left the hut.

He went to that part of the forest where he knew the king’s servants must pass with the young bull. Climbing up into a big oak tree that stood close to the side of the road, he wound the rope round his body, and, crawling along a thick branch, he dropped gently from it, the rope under his arms, and his head hanging on his breast.

Presently he heard the king’s servants coming along with the young bull. As they came near the tree, they looked up, and saw, as they thought, the grey man, hanging apparently lifeless from the branch.

“Aha!” said one, “no doubt he has been robbing others beside our king, and so they have hanged him! Serve him right, the rascal; he will not trouble us again, or try to steal the bull!” So they passed on, quite satisfied that their enemy was dead.

But no sooner were they out of sight, than Greybeard climbed down, and taking a short cut through the brushwood, known only to himself, he was soon well in advance of the men. Quickly climbing up another big oak that stood near the road by which the king’s servants had to pass, he again twisted the rope round his body and hung down from the branch.

When the men arrived with the bull, they were greatly surprised to see another grey man hanging from the tree.

“Could there possibly be two Greybeards?” they asked each other, “or was there some magic at work?”

“Listen,” said the chief servant, “we will leave the bull here, run back to the other tree, and find out whether there are two Greybeards, or whether the same man hangs from both trees.”

So saying, they fastened the bull to the tree with a stout rope, and ran back the way they had come.

No sooner were they out of sight, than Greybeard quickly dropped to the ground, untied the bull, and led him away to the hut.

“Here, friends,” he called out to the old people, “here is food in plenty. Kill the bull; we will have a good roast of beef. You can then salt down the rest, and make candles out of the fat; but his skin you must keep for me!”

The delight of the old people at the prospect of such a supply of good food, can well be imagined.

The king’s servants meanwhile, having gone back to the first oak tree and finding no one there, had returned to the second tree, but when they found that both the bull and Greybeard had disappeared, they began to realize that a trick had been played upon them. So there was nothing to be done but to return to the palace and tell the king what had happened.

After hearing their tale, the king at once sent a messenger to Greybeard, telling him to come with all possible speed to the palace.

The old couple greatly feared, when they heard his message, that some evil was intended towards Greybeard, and quite expected the king would hang him.

But Greybeard told them to keep up a good heart and not to weep; and, whistling cheerfully, he appeared before the king without any sign of fear or dread.

“Was it you who stole my bull?” asked the king.

“I did not steal it, sire; I had to take it, in order to save my life,” replied Greybeard.

“Well,” said the king, “I suppose that is true, I will therefore pardon you again, if you can this night manage to take away the sceptre from under my pillow without waking either the queen or me.”

“That is beyond the power of any man to do,” replied Greybeard; “for how can I get at night into your palace, which is always guarded? much less into your bedchamber!”

“Nay, that is your affair; you must see to that,” replied the king. “And remember that, if you fail, it means losing your life.” And with these words he dismissed him.

Then Greybeard returned to the old couple, who welcomed him as if he had indeed returned to them from the dead. Trude had roasted the finest joint, gathered a big bowl of whortleberries, and baked some nice crisp girdle cakes, so they had a great feast, after which Greybeard asked her to give him one of her nice sleeping-potions which she made for Geir when his rheumatism was very bad.

“That I will gladly, my son,” said Trude, heartily. She quickly hung her pot over the glowing embers, putting in henbane and many other herbs, and when the potion was ready she poured it into a little bottle and gave it to Greybeard.

The sun had by this time set like a golden ball, tinting the great brown stems of the tall pines with a rich crimson glow, as Greybeard, with the bottle carefully placed in his coat pocket, made his way back to the castle.

Watching his opportunity when the sentry at the little postern gate had turned his back, he slipped through the gate and hid himself in a dark corner behind one of the great buttresses. Presently he heard the gates close for the night, so that there should be no possibility of a thief getting in.

When Greybeard thought he had allowed a sufficiently long time to pass to admit of every one, including the king and queen, being soundly asleep, he stole quietly and cautiously out of his hiding-place and along the great passages, till he reached the royal bedchamber. Carefully opening the door, he crept softly up to the big couch on which reposed the king and queen. Making sure that they were sound asleep, he drew forth his little bottle, poured some of the contents on his handkerchief, and dropped it lightly over the faces of the royal couple.

He waited for a few minutes to see that the sleeping-drops had taken effect, and then, slipping his hand under the king’s pillow, he slowly and cautiously drew forth the great golden sceptre, buttoned it safely inside his coat, and, removing the handkerchief, he hastened back to his hiding-place behind the buttress, and as soon as the gate was opened at daybreak, he ran back to old Geir’s hut.

The next morning, when the king and queen awoke, the former put his hand under the pillow, and behold the sceptre was gone!

“Ah, that rascal has been too clever for us again!” cried the king, and immediately sent another messenger to Greybeard to summon him to the castle at once.

This time Geir and Trude made sure the king would hang Greybeard, and were almost heart-broken as they bade him farewell.

“Did you yourself steal the sceptre from under my pillow last night while we were asleep?” asked the king.

“Yes, oh king,” replied Greybeard. “I did not steal it, however; but took it, as you told me. I had to do it to save my life.”

“Well,” said the king, “you certainly are a clever fellow. I will therefore pardon you all you have done if this night you can carry off both the queen and me, out of our bed. If, however, you fail to do so, you shall certainly be hanged without hope of forgiveness.”

“That is not possible for any one to do unassisted,” said Greybeard.

“Oh, that is your affair; see you to that,” answered the king, and dismissed him.

Greybeard returned to his hut. The old people were greatly rejoiced to see him, for they quite expected the king would have hung him; but he was more silent than usual, and after they had finished their evening meal, and the old people had gone to bed, Greybeard went out and walked in the moonlight under the tall trees, planning how to carry out the fresh task given him.

Presently he returned to the hut and took down the old man’s wide-brimmed felt hat that hung on a nail at the back of the door. Boring holes in the brim, he stuck in them some of the candles which Trude had made from the fat of the bull, and also fastened candles in his belt, and then, taking the great leather sack which Geir had made out of the bull’s skin, he returned to the palace and stood in front of the chapel steps which faced the king’s bedroom. Laying down the sack, he lighted all the candles he had brought, sticking them on his shoulders and wherever he could fasten them, and then rang the chapel bell.

This unusual sound in the middle of the night wakened the king and queen. Jumping hurriedly out of bed, they hastened to the window, and there, standing outside the chapel door, they saw a figure, all blazing with light. Greatly startled, they thought it must be a spirit.

“Such a visitor must be received with all honour,” said the queen. “Let us go out and ask his protection and goodwill.”

So they put on their very grandest clothes and went out to meet the supposed spirit. Falling on their knees, they begged him to tell them why he had come, and hoped he would not be too severe with them, or want them to give away too large a portion of their treasure. Greybeard, looking very stern beneath the light of the blazing candles, said he did not want any of their money, but they must both get inside the sack which he placed on the steps.

“Is that all?” cried the king, quite relieved. “Why, that is very easily done!” And, helping the queen in first, he crept in after her.

But no sooner were they both inside than Greybeard pulled to the string. In vain the king kicked and threatened, the queen adding her cries and tears. Greybeard quietly blew out all the lights, and dragging the sack rapidly across the yard, said—

“I am no spirit, oh king, but your old friend Greybeard. You see, I have got you and your queen out of your beds as you commanded me to do, and now it is for me to make my conditions. I will not let you out of the sack unless you promise me your forgiveness for what I have done, and also give me your royal word that you will grant the request I will presently make you.”

The king was so frightened and helpless, fearing that he might die ere Greybeard opened the sack, that he willingly gave his royal word to grant his request, whatever it might be. Whereupon Greybeard untied the sack, and when the king and queen had crept forth, looking very crestfallen, Greybeard said that, as next day was the princess’s wedding-day, he had now to demand the hand of the fair Sigrid in marriage, as well as the half of the kingdom during the king’s lifetime; and, further, that old Geir and his wife, who had befriended him in his poverty, should also live at the palace, and be amply provided for.

The king, having given his royal word, could not of course retract, so he and his queen returned to the palace very sad and sorrowful, for now, instead of having the rich old king for a son-in-law, they had to accept this terrible stranger and lose the half of their kingdom as well.

Greybeard meanwhile returned to the cottage, and when he told Geir and his wife that instead of losing his life he was going to marry the princess the next morning, and that they also were to be provided for, they could hardly believe his words.

“And now you must put on these smart clothes I have brought you, and go back with me,” added Greybeard; and as soon as the old couple were ready, they returned with him to the palace.

The morning of the wedding rose bright and sunny, and the old king, who had arrived, was lodged in the palace. Leaving Geir and Trude among the assembled guests, Greybeard went down into the beautiful gardens, and there, seated on the stone bench near the fountain, he saw Sigrid, looking sad and pale. She had heard of the grey stranger and all his wonderful doings, and though glad that she was not to marry this ugly old king, she could not forget Olaf.

Hearing a step approaching, she looked up and saw Greybeard coming towards her.

“Fair princess,” he said, kneeling down before her. “Do not fear me, but lay your hand in mine and trust me; believe me, I only wish to make you happy.”

His voice was so soft, and he spoke so gently, that Sigrid, despite his ugly grey beard, after a moment’s hesitation, placed her hand in his. No sooner, however, had she done so, than the quaint grey figure disappeared, behold! Olaf himself stood before her, and with a glad cry she threw herself into his outstretched arms.

Together they then hastened to the king and queen, and Olaf told them how, by the aid of his fairy godmother, he had been able to help the old couple who had fed and sheltered him, and also to claim his cousin’s hand, when his year of travel was ended.

The king having given his word, there was nothing further to be said, and the old king had to return to his own country.

The wedding was one of the grandest that had ever been seen, and the feasting lasted a whole month. Olaf and Sigrid lived long and happily together, and after the king’s death Olaf succeeded to the kingdom, which he ruled with such wisdom and goodness, that his reign has ever since been known as “The reign of King Olaf the Good.”

LITILL, TRITILL, THE BIRDS, AND THE PEASANT LAD

There once reigned a king and a queen, and in the same country there also lived a poor old man and his wife. The king had an only daughter, called Enid, who was greatly beloved by both her father and mother. They spared no expense, and she had the best masters and governesses, and a number of servants to wait upon her; but notwithstanding that she was so carefully watched and looked after, she suddenly disappeared. The head-governess said she had left her in her room only for a few minutes practising her harp, with two of her maidens in attendance, and when she came back she found both the girls fast asleep, and the princess gone. Inquiries were made of every one, but nothing could be heard of the princess. No one had seen her; she had vanished in the most mysterious manner. The king, in despair, sent out messengers in all directions, and spent a great part of his treasure searching for her; but all in vain. Then, at last, he vowed that he would give the princess in marriage to whoever should be fortunate enough to find her, and also give him the half of his kingdom. But though many of the knights and nobles about the court, eager to secure so great a prize, went off in search of her, they one and all returned empty-handed.

Now, the poor old man who lived outside the palace grounds had three sons. Their names were Osmond, Tostig, and Harald. The two eldest boys were greatly beloved by their parents; but Harald, the youngest and handsomest, was disliked by his father and mother, and both his elder brothers ill-treated him and made him do all the work, while they went out shooting and fishing.

When the boys were grown up, Osmond came to his parents, and said he would like to start off and see the world, and try to win fame and riches for himself.

His father and mother were quite willing he should do so, and providing him with a new pair of boots and a large bag of food, he started off on his journey.

After he had gone a long, long way, he arrived at a little hillock. Here he sat down to rest, and unpacked his bag of provisions.

Just as he was beginning to eat, a tiny little man, dressed in grey, came up to him, begging for a morsel of food. Osmond angrily ordered him away, threatening to beat him if he did not go quickly.

After he had rested, Osmond went on again a long, long way, till he came to another hillock. Here he again sat down to rest, and began to eat. But he had hardly commenced than a still smaller and shabbier little man, dressed in green, came up to him and asked him for a morsel of food. Osmond spoke angrily to him, and sent him away with a volley of abuse.

He then went on again a long, long way, till he reached a large open glade in the wood. Here he sat down on the soft, mossy grass at the foot of a big beech tree, and thought he would eat another morsel. But no sooner had he opened his bag and taken out the food, than a whole flock of birds flew down beside him; but he angrily chased them away, and then, having rested himself, went on his way, till he came to a big cave. Looking in, and seeing no one, only a lot of cattle, he thought he would go in and wait till the dawn arrived.

Just as the sun was setting, an enormously big giantess walked in. Osmond was greatly startled, but, taking courage, he went up to her, and asked whether he might stay the night there.

The giantess said yes, on condition that in the morning he would do the work she would require of him. This he promised he would do; so she allowed him to remain the night, she herself retiring into an inner cave.

The next morning the giantess told him that he must clean out the cave, and put down fresh bedding for the cattle, and that he must have it all finished before the evening, else she would take his life. With these words she went away.

Osmond took up a prong he saw standing in a corner, but no sooner did he begin to turn up the straw than the prong stuck fast in the bedding. In vain he pushed and pulled and tried to drag it out, the prong remained firmly fixed; and when in the evening the giantess came home and found that the cave had not been cleaned out, she took hold of Osmond and hung him up to a nail in the cave.

Meanwhile Tostig, the second son, thought he, too, would like to go out into the world to seek his fortune, for he felt sure his brother by this time must be quite a rich man. So he told his parents that he did not care to remain at home now his elder brother was away, and with only that stupid Harald at home; so having gained their consent, he, too, started off, provided with a pair of new boots and a big bag of provisions.

But he was not more fortunate than Osmond had been. He flouted the little men while he rested on the hillocks, he chased and killed some of the birds who came flocking round him for crumbs; and when he reached the cave, he also received leave from the giantess to remain the night, on condition that he cleaned out the cave next morning. When he went and took up the prong to throw out the old bedding, it stuck fast in the straw, and no efforts of his could move it. So the giantess coming home, and finding that he had failed to accomplish his task, took him and hanged him beside his brother.

So now there was only the youngest son, Harald, left. But though he was the only one at home, his parents did not love him any better, and the poor lad often felt that his presence reminded them of their lost sons, and that they regretted not having sent him away in their place. So he also decided to go away.

“I do not suppose I shall win riches and fame. All I hope is that I may be able to earn enough to support myself, and be no longer a burden to you.”

Then his parents told him he might go; but instead of nice strong new boots, they only gave him an old pair of his brother’s, and his sack contained nothing but some hard, dry crusts.

But Harald started off with a light heart, and as it chanced he, too, took the same road his brothers had done, and presently he came to the first hillock. “I think my brothers must have rested here, if they felt as tired as I do,” he said, “so I will do the same.” And seating himself on the hillock, he began to eat one of his dry crusts, when, looking up, he saw a little old man in grey standing beside him.

“Will you share your crust with me? I am very hungry, and have had no food to-day,” he said.

Harald pitied the old man, who looked so feeble and tired. He begged him to sit down beside him and share his meal. When they had done, the old man got up, and, after thanking him, said, “My name is Tritill. Although I am old and feeble, if ever you are in need of help, call me, and I will come to you.” So saying, he went round the back of the hillock and disappeared.

Harald then continued his journey till he came to the second hillock.

“I feel sure my brothers must have rested here,” he said. “It is a long way from the last hillock. I, too, will rest here awhile.” And he sat down, and opening his bag, took out another crust. Hardly had he done so when a tiny, shabby, little old man, dressed in green, came up to him and asked for a morsel of food. Harald very good-naturedly asked him to sit down beside him, and shared his crust with him. When they had finished eating, the little green man got up, and, after thanking Harald, said—

“Call me, if ever you think I can do you a service. My name is Litill.” And he, too, went away, and was soon out of sight.

Harald then continued his journey until he came to the large open glade in the wood.

“I am sure my brothers must have rested here,” he thought. “I will do the same.” And he sat down and took out another crust. No sooner had he done so than a great flock of birds came down. They circled round and round him, and seemed so hungry and fought so eagerly over every crumb he threw them, that Harald’s heart was filled with pity. “Poor little things!” he said; “they need it more than I do.” And he broke up the remaining crusts and threw the crumbs among them.

When they had eaten up every crumb, the biggest bird alighted gently on Harald’s shoulder and whistled softly—

“If ever you think we can do you a service, call us. We shall hear you wherever we are, for we are your birds.” And ere he had recovered from his astonishment, they had all flown away and were out of sight.

Harald then continued his journey, until he, too, came to the big cave. Looking in, he saw it was full of cattle, and hanging from a beam in one corner he saw the bodies of his two brothers.

Startled at the sight, Harald’s first impulse was to go away; but he thought he must first bury his brothers. So he took down the bodies, and seeing a spade near the entrance, he speedily dug a grave and buried them in the sand outside the cave. Just as he had finished, the giantess arrived.

Harald, who was very tired, asked her if he might stay the night there.

“You may do so, if you will promise to do what I tell you in the morning,” answered the giantess.

This Harald agreed to, and he slept that night in the cave.

Next morning, the giantess, who had slept in an inner cave, told him that he would have to clean out the cave, and put down clean bedding for the oxen.

“But remember, if your work is not finished when I come home, I shall hang you the same as I did your brothers;” and so saying she went away.

Harald took up the prong standing in the corner and began his work. But no sooner had he pushed the prong into the bedding and tried to lift it than it stuck fast to the ground. In vain he used all his strength, the prong remained firmly fixed. In his despair he called out: “Oh, dear Tritill, come and help me!”

No sooner had the words passed his lips than he saw Tritill standing beside him, who asked what he could do for him. Harald showed him the difficulty he was in.

Then Tritill called out: “Prick prong and shovel spade!” and immediately the prong pricked up the bedding and the spade shovelled it away, till in a very short time the cave was all cleaned out and fresh straw put down. Harald thanked him warmly for his help, and Tritill went away.

When the giantess came home in the evening and saw that the work was done, she said to Harald—

“Oh, man, man! you have not done this by yourself! But I will let it pass!” and she retired into the inner cave.

The next morning the giantess told Harald that she had some fresh work for him to do. He was to carry her own bedding outside the cave, take out all the feathers, spread them out in the sun to air, and then put them back again.

“But remember, if when I come back in the evening there is a single feather missing, I shall hang you as I did your brothers!” And with these words she went away.

Harald carried out the great featherbed and the big pillows; and as the sun was shining warm and bright, and there was not a breath of wind, he ripped open the seams and spread out the feathers in the sun.

No sooner had he done so than a strong wind arose, and in one moment all the feathers were whirled away, not a single one remaining.

In despair Harald called out: “Dear Tritill, dear Litill, and all my dear birds—oh, come and help me if you can!” And almost before the words had passed his lips, Tritill, Litill, and the whole flight of birds, came bringing the feathers with them; and while Tritill and Litill helped Harald to fill the bed and the pillows, and sew them up again, the birds flew round picking up all the stray feathers, so that none were missing. But out of each pillow they took one feather, and, tying them together, told Harald that when the giantess missed them and threatened to kill him, he was to tickle her nose with the feathers.

Thereupon Tritill, Litill, and the birds all disappeared.

When the giantess came home in the evening, she went up to her bed, and threw herself down on it so heavily that the whole cave shook. Then she began carefully feeling all over the bed, and when she came to the pillows she cried out—

“Aha, man! I have caught you—there is a feather missing in each pillow! Now I shall hang you like your brothers!”

But as she took hold of him, Harold quickly pulled the two feathers out of his pocket and tickled her nose with them.

In an instant the giantess fell back on her bed looking terribly white and frightened; but Harald laughingly gave her back her feathers, telling her he did not want to keep them.

“Ah, man, man!” said the giantess, “I know you did not do this alone; but I will let it pass this time!”

So this third night Harald also passed in the cave, and in the morning the giantess said to him—

“I have some fresh work for you to-day. You must kill one of my oxen. Then you must scrape and clean the skin to make a leather bag; cut up the animal in joints ready for cooking; clean all the entrails, and make spoons out of its horns. All must be finished ere I return this evening. I have fifty oxen, as you see, and it is one of these I want killed. I shall not, however, tell you which one I have fixed upon; that you must find out for yourself. If all is done as I wish when I return, you can depart in the morning and go wherever you like; and in addition, as a reward, you may choose three things from among such of my treasures as I value most. If, however, everything is not finished, or if you kill the wrong animal, then it will cost you your life, and I shall hang you the same as I did your brothers.” And so saying the giantess departed.

Harald was sorely puzzled. How could he possibly decide which of the animals the giantess wished killed? Then he remembered his friends.

“Dear Tritill, dear Litill, come once again to my aid,” he cried.

Hardly had the words passed his lips, than he saw them both coming towards him, leading a huge ox between them. They at once set to work and killed him, and while Harald cleaned the entrails and cut up the joints, Tritill scraped the skin and prepared it for making the bag, and Litill began fashioning the spoons out of the horns.

So the work sped along quickly and merrily, and all was ready ere the sun sank to rest.

Harald now told his friends what the giantess had promised him if he should have finished his task ere she returned.

“Can you advise me what to ask for?” he said.

Then they told him he should first ask for that which was over her bed, then for the chest which stood beside her bed, and lastly for that which was behind the wall of her bed.

Harald thanked them warmly for all they had done for him, and said he would do as they had told him, whereupon the little men disappeared.

When the giantess came home in the evening and found that Harald had finished all the tasks she had set him, she exclaimed—

“Ah, man, man! you never did all this alone; but you have conquered, so I must let it pass.” And so saying she retired to rest.

The next morning, the giantess called Harald into the inner cave and told him he might choose the reward she had promised him, and that then he might go where he liked.

“Then,” said Harald, “if I may have whatever I like, I choose, first, that which is above your bed; then the chest which is beside your bed; and, lastly, that which is behind the wall of your bed.”

“Ah, man, man!” cried the giantess. “You have not chosen these things by yourself; but I cannot refuse you; you are too strong for me, and you have conquered, and I must give you the reward you claim.”

So saying, she mounted some steps above her bed cut into the rock, and, opening a secret door, she led forth a beautiful maiden. This was none other than the fair Princess Enid, who had disappeared so mysteriously some time ago.

“Take her back to her father, and he will reward you as you deserve,” said the giantess as she placed the princess’s hand in that of Harald.

She then opened the lid of the chest beside her bed. This was filled with gold, pearls, and precious stones; and then moving aside the bed, she touched a secret spring, and the wall sliding back, they saw the blue sea, and anchored close to the cave lay a beautiful ship completely fitted out, her sails all set, and her pennant flying, and possessing the power of sailing wherever its owner wished, without aid of either captain or crew.

When the giantess had handed him over these gifts, she told Harald that he would henceforth be one of the happiest and luckiest of men.

Harald then carried the chest containing the gold and precious stones on board ship, and then having arranged some soft cushions for the Princess Enid, in the stern of the vessel, they quickly departed, and reached her father’s country.

The delight of the king and queen on recovering their long-lost daughter can be more easily imagined than described. They never tired hearing of the wonderful adventures through which Harald had gone, and the king ordered a great feast in honour of the rescuer of his child, which ended with the wedding of Enid and Harald.

The king then made Harald his prime minister; and so well and so wisely did he rule the country, that on the king’s death he was chosen to succeed him, and he and Queen Enid lived long and happily together, seeing their children and grandchildren growing up around them.

LAUGHING INGIBJÖRG