CHAPTER II.

WHAT HAD BEFALLEN THE TWO LITTLE PRINCES AND THEIR SISTER.

But Queen Hertha was not dead; for the lion, so far from hurting her, laid himself quietly down at her feet, and when his food was brought to him, he would never touch it till the queen had taken her share.

So, while every one thought she was dead, Queen Hertha lived beside her powerful friend. At first she had been terribly frightened, but she speedily grew almost to love the huge beast, who, when the king and her sisters had been so cruel, had befriended her in her hour of need. Still it was at best but a dreary existence, and many times and often she wished she could but know what was happening outside the lion’s den.

As for the children, the same old man, Osric, who had picked up the first baby, had fortunately also found the other boy and the baby girl, and had taken them home to his own little cot, near the woods, where he brought them up as well as he could. He called the elder boy Wilhelm, the second one Sigurd, and the little baby girl Olga.

He had tried at first to find out whose children they could possibly be, but one night he dreamed that a beautiful fairy came to his bedside, and said—

“Osric, if you love the children, don’t ask any questions about them, but bring them up as your own—their enemies will else destroy them. Let them wait till they are grown up.”

So he had kept his own counsel, and did the best he could for them. Strangely enough, too, he found that his barrel of meal never ran short, and with his cow and his little patch of garden ground they always had a sufficiency of food.

So the children grew up strong and healthy, the boys helping the old man in his forest work, and fetching the wood and water that was wanted; and as for Olga, she soon became quite an expert little housekeeper. But, though they wore rough, home-spun garments, they were good to look at, for they all three inherited the marvellous beauty of their father and mother.

At last, when the young people were grown up, the old man, feeling his end draw near, called Olga and her brothers to his bedside. He then told them how and where he had found them, and also mentioned the strange vision he had had.

“But now that you are grown up,” he added, “I should advise you to make all inquiries, and not to rest till you have found out who and what you are, for I feel sure you are no ordinary children.” Thereupon he gave them his blessing and died.

Wilhelm, Sigurd, and Olga sorrowed deeply over the death of their kind foster-father, for they had loved him dearly. When they had buried him in the forest, they returned sadly to the empty hut and consulted together as to what they had best do in order to carry out his instructions.

While they were thus sitting and talking, the door of the hut opened, and an old man entered. He was dressed entirely in green; his hair was long and white, so also was his beard, and in his hand he carried a thick oaken staff.

“Good morrow, father,” said Wilhelm; “you are welcome, though we have not much to offer you. Pray take a seat and rest, for you look weary.”

“I have come a long way, my son,” answered the old man; “but though I am still hale and hearty, I shall not be sorry for a short rest. But you seem in sorrow or trouble,” he added, looking from one to the other. “Perhaps I might be able to help you, for I have travelled far, and seen many strange and wonderful things.”

“We shall indeed be glad of some advice,” said Sigurd, while Olga hastened to place a bowl of new milk and some oatcakes before the traveller. “Sir, we are sadly perplexed as to what we ought to do.” And the brothers then proceeded to tell the stranger their story, and the advice their foster-father had given them.

When he had heard their strange tale, the old man said—

“I fear I cannot help you myself, but I think I know some one who may be able to advise you. You must know that about three days’ journey from here, there lies a valley full of strangely shaped stones. In the middle of this valley there is a rock, on which a large bird sits, who is very wise, and understands and speaks the human language. Now, I think you should go and see this bird, though I will not conceal from you that there is very great danger attending such a visit. Many people have gone to consult him, but so far no one has ever returned. He is, however, so wise that he can both foretell the future, and also reveal the past. Many princes and others have gone for advice to this wonderful bird, but one and all have failed in carrying out the conditions, which can alone insure success. You must know that whoever mounts the rock on which the bird sits, must be so brave, and have such strength of will, that, no matter what he may see or hear, he must not turn round or look back; for if he does, even for only a second, he will at once be turned into stone. So far, no one yet has possessed the required purpose and unswerving staunchness,” continued the old man; “but it is not difficult to mount the rock, provided you have the necessary determination. Then, when you have mounted, you will have the power to restore to life all those who, through lack of will and strength of purpose, were turned into stone, for on the summit of the rock there is a huge jar filled with magic water, and he who safely reaches the summit may take some of this water, and sprinkle it over those who have been turned to stone; they will then awake to life, and regain their form and figure.”

Both brothers thought the task by no means a difficult one, and declared themselves quite ready and willing to undertake the journey. They thanked the old man heartily for all his information and advice, and then sped him on his journey.

Next morning Wilhelm said to Sigurd that he would start forth in search of the rock. But before he left, he said to his brother—

“If at any time you see three drops of blood on your knife when you are at dinner, you must get up and follow me, for you will then know that I have failed, and have been turned to stone, and that you must then try your best.”

So Wilhelm went forth, followed by the good wishes of Sigurd and Olga. But after three days, when the brother and sister sat down to dinner, behold three drops of blood were on the blade of Sigurd’s knife!

Hastily starting up, he told Olga he must be off at once in search of their brother.

“And remember, Olga, though I hope I may be successful, if at the end of three days you see three drops of blood, on your knife, you will know that I too have failed.”

He then bade her a loving farewell; and Olga saw him start on his way, with many fears and prayers in her heart for his safety.