CHAPTER I.

THORWALD AND INGIBJÖRG ARE CRUELLY TREATED BY THEIR STEPMOTHER, WHO TRIES TO GET RID OF THEM.

Long ago, when giants and ogres still walked about the earth, in a far distant country, there once lived a king and queen. They had two children, called Thorwald and Ingibjörg; but before the children were grown up, the good queen died.

The king, who was very fond of his wife, was quite inconsolable at her death. He lost interest in everything, shut himself up in his own rooms, only coming out to sit and weep beside her grave.

This went on for so long, that at last his ministers came to him, and told him that everything was going wrong in his kingdom, and that there was a rumour abroad, that a neighbouring prince, hearing that the king no longer took any interest in his affairs, meant to cross the water and take possession of the king’s throne and lands. They therefore begged him to rouse himself and look out for another wife, and either go forth and seek her himself, or else send his ambassadors to try and bring back a suitable princess.

At first the king would not listen to a word they said, but after a time he saw that his ministers were right, so he agreed to fit out some ships and send an embassy to several other countries in order to find some fair princess worthy to share his throne.

Soon after the ambassadors had started and were once fairly on the high seas, a great storm arose. The sky grew black as night, the thunder roared and the lightning flashed, and the wind blew so strongly, driving the ships in all directions, that the sailors quite lost their reckoning; their rudders were broken, and they drifted about at the mercy of the winds and waves. At length, after many days, they sighted land; but when they came near, they saw it was quite an unknown shore.

The chief men of the expedition now disembarked, in order to make some inquiries, leaving the sailors in charge of the ships.

For some time they could see no sign of any human habitation, and thought they must have landed on some uninhabited island, but at length they arrived at a small farm, consisting of a few wretched huts.

Not hearing a sound, and seeing no one about, they at first concluded the place was deserted; but when they reached the last hovel, an old woman came forth, who, despite her great age, was both tall and stately, and at once asked them who they were and whence they had come.

“We have been driven here by the storm,” replied the leader, and he then proceeded to tell her the object of their search.

“You certainly have been very unfortunate so far,” answered the old woman, “and I fear there is but little chance of your finding what you seek here.”

While they were talking, the sun had set, and as the weather showed signs of again turning stormy, the ambassadors asked the old woman whether she could give them shelter.

At first she absolutely refused, saying her miserable hut was not fitted to receive people accustomed to live in royal castles; but, as the storm increased, they continued to urge her to let them stay, till at length she consented and bade them enter.

What was their surprise and astonishment to find the inside of this apparently miserable hut richly fitted up like some kingly apartment

Handsome skins covered the floor, soft couches ran round the walls, which were ornamented with richly chased shields and arms, and a bright fire burnt cheerily on the hearth.

As soon as the men were seated, the old woman laid the great oaken table which stood in the centre, and served the strangers with such dainty dishes as might well befit a royal table.

“And do you mean to say that you live here all alone?” asked the chief ambassador, during the meal.

“I might almost say that I do,” replied the woman, “for besides myself there is no one here but my only child Guda.”

“And, pray, may we not see the maiden?” asked the ambassador; for they were all wondering what the girl, living alone with her mother in these strange surroundings, would be like.

Again the old woman demurred; but the more she pretended to hesitate, the more the ambassadors urged her, till at last she consented, and said she would bring her daughter.

When at last she entered by her mother’s side, the ambassadors were almost startled by her marvellous beauty. Tall and fair, like a stately lily, with a perfect wealth of golden hair, falling in shining masses to the ground, Guda appeared before them like the goddess Freya. Surely, they thought, nowhere could they find a lovelier maiden to fill the vacant seat beside the king’s throne.

So, without further hesitation, they at once solicited her hand in marriage, in the king’s name.

The old woman pretended to think they were only joking, and laughed at the idea of the king seeking a wife in a peasant’s cottage, adding that poor girls like her daughter had better remain at home, for such grandeur was not for them, and their ignorance of the ways of the world only brought them to shame instead of honour.

The king’s ambassadors, however, would not be put off, and the more the old woman declared she could not part with her daughter, the more determined they were to take her away with them. At last, seeing the men would take no refusal, she consented to let the girl go, on condition that they would bring her back again, if, on seeing her, the king did not wish to marry her.

To this the ambassadors agreed, and then they all retired for the night.

Next morning the men prepared to return to the ships, and the old woman said her daughter would be ready to accompany them when she had got her things together. Then, to their surprise, they found she had so many packages that it needed all the ships’ crews to carry them to the shore and put them on board.

The mother and daughter now went down to the beach together, talking earnestly, but in such low tones that no one could make out what they were saying; but one man heard the old woman say, “Remember, you must send me back the big stone; I will manage the rest.”

And then they reached the shore, where the old mother kissed her daughter, and, bidding her good-bye, wished her all good luck and prosperity.

Then the anchors were weighed, the sails were hoisted, and the vessels put out to sea, reaching their destination without any mishaps.

When the king heard that his ambassadors had returned, he went down to the shore, accompanied by all the chief officers of his court, to bid the travellers welcome, and when he saw the young girl whom the ambassadors had chosen for his queen, he was greatly delighted, for she was more beautiful than any maiden he had ever seen, and seemed as sweet and good as she was lovely.

He conducted her back to the palace in great state. There a magnificent banquet had been prepared, and soon after the wedding was celebrated, amid the rejoicings of the whole island. The feast lasted three days, and every one who saw the fair Queen Guda in her rich and costly robes, seated on the throne beside her husband, declared no more beautiful queen could possibly have been found, and though the king had loved his first wife, he soon became so completely wrapped up in Guda, that her word was law in everything.

Some months after the wedding, a war broke out in a neighbouring kingdom, belonging to a cousin of the king, who had, therefore, to start off and help him, as his enemies were too strong for him to fight them alone.

The king, therefore, ordered out his war-galleys, and, as he expected to be away some time, he, at the queen’s request, handed her his royal signet ring, begging her to rule the kingdom during his absence, and be a kind and loving mother to his two children, Thorwald and Ingibjörg.

This Guda promised she would do. So the king took a tender farewell of his wife and children, and getting on board his ship, followed by his men, a strong wind rapidly carried the vessels out of sight.

For some little time after the king had left, Queen Guda was very kind to the children. She had them to dine at her own table, gave them fruit and sweets and toys, and often took them for drives in her beautiful chariot, with the cream-coloured horses.

Then one day she asked them to go down to the shore with her and play some games.

It was a beautiful morning; the sun shone warm and bright, the blue sea was smooth and glistening like a great sheet of glass, and as the tiny wavelets receded, the golden sands were strewn with lovely pink and violet shells and glistening feathery weeds of every hue and shade.

“Oh, Thorwald!” cried Ingibjörg, running up to her brother and laughing merrily, her arms filled with long trails of crimson and green seaweed. “Look how beautiful they are! Let us play at being king and queen, and I will make two lovely crowns.”

“No; come here, children,” said the queen. She had walked some little distance along the shore, and now stood beside a big square stone. Then, as Thorwald and Ingibjörg came near her, she muttered, “Open, oh stone!” And at these words the great square stone parted asunder, showing a large cavity inside, and before the children knew what had happened, Queen Guda had pushed them both in; the stone closed with a snap, and, giving it a strong shove, she rolled the stone into the sea.

She then returned to the castle weeping, telling her attendants that the children had run away, that she had called them to come back, but all in vain, they would not obey; so she now sent out messengers in all directions, pretending terrible grief at their supposed loss.