Part 3

The old woman began at once to spin the flax which she found outside the cottage door, but during the work stood a vessel of water beside her with which to wet the thread.

The yarn was soon finished and she betook herself, with profit and pleasure in prospect, to the wood. As the Troll’s servant maid had declared she came to a beautiful glade encircled by high trees. She there laid down the yarn and hastened to return home, not daring to look behind her. The next day she went again to the spot and found a new bundle of flax, also several silver pieces.

Now followed a period of prosperity for the poor woman. She accumulated money from her work, became rich, but at the same time avaricious, and forgot the prayers, which she had never before neglected, when she retired to rest.

Finally, she did not even trouble herself to keep faith with the Trolls, but spun the yarn according to general custom, wetting the thread with her spittle.

The skeins of yarn were deposited in the usual place, but when she went the next day to get her reward she was unable to find the glade again, and in the end went astray in the woods, from which she did not succeed in finding her way home before a whole day later. Upon arriving home, as was her every-day custom, she brought forth and was about to count over her money, when she found that all the silver pieces had been transformed into small stones.

Want pursued her now with greater severity than ever, for none would help one who was known to have had to do with the infamous Soåsan dame, and the old woman died shortly after in great poverty and distress.

A girl who many years ago was a servant in the house of a Senator of Eksjö, named Lind, went one day to find the cattle, which usually grazed in the woods surrounding Soåsan. The animals, for some time back, had not thrived upon the pastures allotted them and were wont to wander far away in search of food, it was supposed, so, at times the girl, notwithstanding the most diligent search, was unable to find them, and when they were found, the cows had already been milked. This day she went plodding sadly along through the dark woods, thinking of the scolding which awaited her at home, when she returned with neither cows nor milk; her mind was also busied with the many stories she had heard about ghosts and Trolls who infested the woods, when she saw two pair of Pigmies, a boy and girl, sitting under the shadow of a large pine tree.

“It is best to be polite when on the Trolls’ own ground,” thought the girl. Whereupon she addressed the Troll infants in a very friendly manner and invited each to partake of some bread and butter which she had with her in her little bag. The children ate with exceeding greed, a disgusting sight, as they had extremely large mouths into which the bread and butter vanished rapidly. When the girl was about to depart she heard a voice saying, “As you have taken pity on my children, you shall hereafter escape searching after the cows. Go home! They stand at the gate.”

From that day the girl no longer had to search for the cows; they came to the gate every night of their own accord, sweet-laden with a rich tribute of the most excellent milk.

THE GIANT PUKE. [10]

In the parish of Lofta in the department of North Tjust there lies, near the sea, a mountain called Puke Mountain. From the land side running into the mountain, there is a long fissure terminating in a cave or hall, where formerly lived a giant called Puke, concerning whom many stories are still quite prevalent among the people.

When the church at Lofta was built the giant was sorely tormented by the church bells. He suffered great discomfort even from the water courses which gurgled out of the mountain, and in a meadow directly north of Lofta Church, was formed a pond, Kofre Spring, in which holy baptism was sometimes performed.

Puke often declared that he must depart from his mountain because of Kofre Spring and Lofta scolding, meaning the church bells in Lofta.

One Sunday the Giant was more than usually disturbed by the long continued bell ringing, and sent his daughter to the top of the mountain, from which, with her apron strings converted into a sling, she threw an enormous stone at the church tower. But the force was too great, and the stone fell upon the other side of the church, where it lies to this day, as large as a good sized cottage.

Some days later the giant maiden, while wandering over the surrounding country, was attracted by three children at play on a hill near by. They had discovered a fallen branch of an oak tree, and to this they had fastened a rope, pretending it was a plow, which one was holding as the others dragged it over the ground. Surprised at this curious implement and the small creatures, she gathered them all into her apron and ran home with them to her giant father. He, however, found no pleasure in the intended playthings but said only:

“Take them out again, our time is past; it is now these who shall rule over us.”

In the end Puke became dissatisfied with everything and moved to Götland, where he was some time later found by a ship’s master, to whom he gave a box, and bade him offer it upon the altar at Lofta while the people were in church, cautioning him strongly not to open it before.

“If you do as I bid you,” said the Giant, “you will find, under the left fore-foot of Lofta’s white mare—meaning the church—a key, with which you are to proceed to Puke Mountain. There you will see a door, which you shall open. When you are inside you will meet two black dogs. Do not be afraid of them, but press forward into the room, where you will find a table and upon it many beautiful silver vessels. Of them you may take the largest, but if you take anything more, misfortune will surely overtake you.”

The captain kept this all in mind, but when he approached Puke Mountain, on his journey homeward, the conversation of the ship’s people was turned to the box. After many deliberations, it was determined to throw it overboard onto a small island which lay near by. This was done, and upon the instant the island was in flames, and even to-day it is brown and desolate as if it had recently been swept by a fire.

KATRINEHOLM MANOR.

In one of the picturesque valleys of romantic Småland and on the Black River is a noted waterfall called Stalpet, which, after placidly winding, by many hundred bends, for a considerable distance, through green meadows, here makes a precipitous descent over a rocky cliff, then quietly pursues its course to a lake a short distance beyond.

Not far from Stalpet lies an old manor, dark, gloomy and unoccupied. A feeling of oppression comes over one in the presence of this large building, barred gates and nailed up windows, and the question is asked, why should this naturally beautiful place be untenanted? Why is there not, at least, a watchman or an attendant? There must be some unusual reason for such a condition of things.

Let us listen to the narration of a good old woman, resident in the neighborhood, who once gave us the story. We use her words, which, may be, enter too much into the detail, but bear with them the natural freshness and coloring that, it is hoped, will not be tedious to the reader. We are given to understand that if we will have the story we must begin at the beginning, and that is, like “Milton’s Paradise Lost,” with the beginning of all things.

“Know that when Satan was cast out of heaven, on account of his pride, and fell to the earth, there were other spirits, which, like him, were also cast out. These spirits, in their fall, were borne hither and thither on the winds like the golden leaves in the autumn storm, falling to earth finally, some into the sea, some into the forests and some upon the mountains. Where they fell there they remained, so the saying runs, and found there their field of action. After their abiding places they were given different names. Thus we have sea nymphs, mountain fairies, wood fairies, elves and other spirits, all of which are described in the catechism.

Now, it happened, that on that day two spirits fell upon the rock where this old Katrineholm Manor house now stands. In this mountain their offspring lived many hundreds, yes, thousands of years. Though some of them were from time to time killed by lightning and otherwise, they were not exterminated and had not been approached by any human being.

It happened, a long time ago, that a gentleman, who owned this estate, wishing to build himself a residence, and, like a wise architect, to have a solid foundation for it, selected this rock.

The mountain king—for he was a king among his people—was very much displeased with this, but his wife, who was of a milder disposition, pacified her husband and urged him to wait and do their neighbors no harm until it could be known whether harm might be expected from them.

When the house was finished the gentleman married a beautiful young lady whose presence at once filled it with sunshine and joy. But sorrow visits many who little expect it and so it was here.

One day when the young wife was alone in her work-room, a little woman, unexpectedly and unannounced, stood before her. Bowing, she said: “My mistress bids that you visit her, and directs me to say to you that if you consent she will reward you richly.” The young wife wondered much at such a request, but having a brave heart and a clear conscience, she promised to follow. The little woman led the way down stairs to the cellar, where she opened a door, until now undiscovered, revealing a passage into the mountain. Entering the passage, which was long and dark, she finally emerged into a large, well-lighted cave, whose walls were sparkling with gold and silver. Here, pacing back and forth, as if in great anguish, was a little man who looked at the new comer searchingly, and with an humble and pleading expression in his eyes, but said nothing. The little woman pushed aside a curtain to an inner cave, at the further end of which the visitor saw, lying upon an elegant bed, another little woman sick and laboring in child-birth. The Christian visitor’s presence had the effect to almost immediately still the pains of the suffering woman, whereupon she drew forth a box filled with precious stones, pearls and jewels. “Take this as a memento of your visit to me, but let none know what has happened to you this day, for as surely as you do great misfortune will overtake you and yours,” said the Mountain Queen, and directed that the young wife be given safe conduct to her room again. As soon as left alone the precious box was carefully secreted.

Time sped on. Everything went well, and in due time the young wife herself became the mother of two beautiful sons. One day, during the mother’s absence, the boys discovered the secreted box, and had just begun to play with it when their father entered. He was greatly surprised to find such a treasure in the hands of the children and began at once to question the mother, who had also entered, as to how she became its possessor. At first she refused to betray the secret, and with her refusal the husband became more curious and suspicious, finally angry, when he declared his wife a Troll, and that he himself had seen her come riding through the air on a broomstick. The poor wife was then obliged to reveal her visit to the Troll queen and the circumstances attending it.

“You and I have seen our happiest days, for your curiosity will bring us greater misfortune than you have dreamed of,” said she.

A few days later there appeared in the adjacent lake an island, which, strangely enough, seemed to rise from its bosom when anything remarkable was about to take place. It is related that shortly before the death of Charles XII., also before that of Gustav III., the island became visible, and it is even said that a king one time carved his name on a stone on the island, and that stone and name, when, on another occasion the island was visible, were to be seen.

Whether the island was now again visible by some power of the Trolls in unison with the water spirits is not known; it is enough that the island appeared, and that the lord of the manor became possessed with a great desire to go to and inspect it.

He expressed a wish that his wife and boys should accompany him. The mother, who foresaw misfortune, opposed the project with all her energy, and upon her knees begged and prayed her husband to postpone his visit, but without avail.

Finally, the willful man took the boys, leaving his wife at home, and rowed out to the island. Just as the boat touched the enchanted island both boys sprang upon it, and at the same instant both island and boys vanished from the father’s sight to be seen no more.

The poor mother mourned herself to death, and the father departed to foreign lands, where he also died, but the building on Katrineholm has never since been occupied, and there is little probability that any one will in the future prosper in it.

EBBE SKAMELSON. [11]

Upon a small headland which juts from the north into Lake Bolmen, lies an old mansion, Tiraholm, by the peasantry called Tira.

A long time ago there lived here a knight who had a wife and an only child, a beautiful daughter, named Malfred. In the whole country there was not another so fair, and the fame of her beauty traveled far and wide, alluring many suitors to her feet. But Malfred was unmoved by their attentions and turned them away, one after the other.

One day a stately knight, Ebbe Skamelson by name, who had just returned from foreign lands, where he had won his golden spurs, drew up in the court-yard.

With downcast eyes and blushing cheeks the young lady extended her hand when they met, to greet the stranger, who courteously returned her salutation.

The stranger knight became for a time a guest at Tiraholm, and the report soon went out, to the grief of many swains who had indulged in dreams of sooner or later winning the hand of the beautiful maiden, that Ebbe Skamelson and Malfred were betrothed. But, as both were still young, the Knight expressed a desire to join the Crusades to the Holy Land, where he hoped to add to his honors, and stipulated that he be given seven years, at the end of which time he promised to return and celebrate his nuptials.

Some time after Ebbe departed, the old Knight, Malfred’s father, died, and it became very lonesone for the daughter and mother in Tiraholm. Year after year passed with no word from Ebbe. The roses of the young maiden’s cheeks faded and the dark eyes lost their lustre. The mother advised a remedy and betrothed her to another.

Under the impression that Ebbe had fallen by the sword of the infidels she prepared a wedding feast, and the newly betrothed couple were duly joined according to the rites of the church.

But just as the wedding guests sat themselves at table a gold-laced Knight rode into the court at great speed. The bride became pale under her crown, but the mother, who recognized in the stranger the Knight Ebbe, hastened to meet him in the yard, and reminded him that the seven years had passed, at the same time informing him that his love now sat in the bridal chair with another.

In great anger the Knight sprang to his horse, drew his sword, and after reproaching her for breaking her promise, with one blow he severed her head from her body. His sword still dripping with blood, he sprang from his saddle and into the hall where the festivities were in progress, where the bride sank under his sword, and the bridegroom at another deadly blow fell by her side.

Overtaken by repentance the murderer flung himself upon his horse and rode away into the dark forest, but the pricking of his conscience allowed him no rest. Night and day he saw the apparitions of his victims, and nowhere could he find an escape from them.

Finally he determined to go to Rome, and at the feet of the Holy Father ask absolution from his crimes. A large sum of money procured for him from the Pope the desired indulgence, but absolution from a man did not possess the power to quiet his conscience, still his soul’s pain or quell the storm raging in his heart. He then returned to the home of his love, and asked the authorities to impose upon him the severest punishment.

After a long deliberation he was sentenced by the court to be chained hand and foot, in which condition he must visit and pass a day in each one of the three hundred and sixty-five islands in Lake Bolmen. The condemned man went at once about the execution of his sentence. In order that he might get from one island to the other he was given a small boat with which, like a wounded bird, he laboriously propelled himself on his terrible journey.

When, at the end of the year, his sentence was completed he went ashore on the estate of Anglestadt in the district of Sunnebro. Here he went up to a village and rested over night in a barn. Meantime his sorrowful fate had made a deep impression upon the people. A bard had composed a song reciting the woes of Ebbe, and a soothsayer had predicted that upon hearing the song sung Ebbe’s chains would fall off and his death follow immediately. While he was lying concealed in the barn, a milkmaid came in the morning to milk the cows. She began to sing “Knight Ebbe’s Song,” to which he listened with intense interest. At the conclusion of the last verse he cried out with loud voice: “Some is true and some is false.”

Thoroughly frightened, the girl sprang into the house and related what had happened. In great haste the people gathered around the barn where Ebbe was lying, commanding him to inform them where he came from and who he was. Still cumbered by his chains he crawled from his shelter and gave his name, at the same time requesting them to conduct him to the churchyard.

Between the village and the church of Anglestadt lies a stone sunken in the ground. When he came to this Ebbe mounted it, raised his eyes to heaven and cried out: “If I am worthy to be buried in consecrated ground, so let it be!”

Instantly the fetters fell from his hands and feet and he sank to the earth a corpse.

Those present took his body and carried it to the church where they buried it in the path outside the churchyard wall, so that all who went into the churchyard should tramp upon his grave. But the next night a long section of the wall, right in front of the grave, was miraculously thrown down. The peasants at once relaid it, but the next night it was again leveled. It was then understood that these happenings were signs that the unfortunate man should be allowed a resting place in consecrated ground, whereupon the churchyard was extended so that the grave was enclosed by its walls, and a low stone even to this day marks the resting place of the outcast. From the fetters, which for a long time hung in Anglestadt church, three iron crosses, resembling the small crosses which were in former times set up in memory of the departed, have been made and placed upon the present church.

JOHAN AND THE TROLLS. [12]

In Ingeltrop, a parish of North Wedbo, there once lived a farmer who had a servant named Johan.

One day a traveler arrived from Myntorp Inn, and the farmer having been notified that it was his turn to furnish a conveyance for him to the next inn, Johan was sent to the pasture to catch a horse. A halter thrown over his shoulder, he set out, whistling the latest love song. Arriving at the pasture, it was soon clear to him that “Bronte” was in no humor to submit to the halter, and though he now and then allowed himself to be approached, no sooner was the attempt made to lay hold on him than he was off, with head and heels in the air, to a safe distance. Johan persevered, perspiration streaming from his forehead, but in vain. Angered at last, he began to swear in a most ungodly manner, still pursuing the horse until his progress was suddenly checked by a high cliff, to the very base of which he had run before discovering it. Naturally casting his glance upward, as he halted, he saw, sitting upon a crag, a beautiful maiden, apparently combing her hair.

“Are you there, my dear boy?” called the maiden.

Johan, not easily frightened, answered her cheerily:

“Yes, my sweetheart.”

“Come here, then,” called the maiden.

“I can’t,” replied Johan.

“Try, Johan.” And he did, to his astonishment finding a foothold on the smooth cliff where before no unevenness was discoverable, and soon he was at the maiden’s side. She looked at him with great, wondering eyes, then, suddenly enveloping him in a mist, clouded his understanding so that he was no longer master of his movements, and was, in fact, transformed completely from the Johan he had been to a being like his companion. He forgot horse, home, relatives and friends. Half unconscious, he was conducted into the mountain, and was gone from the sight and power of those who would seek him.

“Bronte” was in harness many good days thereafter, and the farmer became the driver, for, as his sons were growing up, he did not wish to hire another servant in Johan’s stead.

One day, many years after Johan’s disappearance, it was again the farmer’s turn to furnish a horse to a traveler. Grumbling at the fate of Johan, he went to the pasture.

“It was too bad for the boy,” said he to himself. “I wonder if he has been caught by the Trolls?” At the same time he chanced to look upward at the cliff where the servant had seen the Troll maiden, and there stood Johan, but with lusterless eyes, staring into vacancy.

“Johan, my dear boy, is that you?” shouted the farmer. “Come down.”

“I can not,” answered Johan, with husky, unnatural voice.

Hereupon the farmer threw his cap to Johan, which the latter picked up and put on his head.

“Come down,” cried the farmer, “before the Trolls come. In the name of the saints, come down.”

“I can’t,” said Johan again.