Nordic Tales

by Chronicle Books

  Well, that was reasonable enough, he thought, and, no doubt, he felt there was very little danger in trying it. So they agreed to race to the end of Lake Fryken and back, one on each side of the lake, which, as you know, is a very long one indeed. If she came in first she was to be free, but if she came in last she was to belong to him.

  But the girl had to run home first of all, for she had a roll of cloth for the parson, which she must deliver before she tried her speed with Old Nick. Very well, that she might, for he went in fear of the parson; but the race should take place on the third day afterwards.

  Now, as bad luck would have it for Old Nick, it so happened that the girl had a sister, who was so like her that it was impossible to know one from the other, for they were twins, the two girls.

  But the sister was not mad about dancing, so Old Nick had not got scent of her. The girl now asked her sister to place herself at Frykstad, the south end of the lake, and she herself took up her position at Fryksend, the north end of it.

  She had the bark shoes on, and Old Nick the leather ones; and so they set off, each on their side of the lake. The girl did not run very far, for she knew well enough how little running she need do; but Old Nick set off at full speed, much faster than one can ride on the railway.

  But when he came to Frykstad he found the girl already there; and when he came back to Fryksend there she was too.

  “Well, you see now?” said the girl.

  “Of course I see,” said Old Nick, but he was not the man to give in at once. “One time is no time, that you know,” he said.

  “Well, let’s have another try,” said the girl.

  Yes, that he would, for the soles of his shoes were almost worn out, and then he knew what state the bark shoes would be in.

  They set off for the second time, and Old Nick ran so fast that the air whistled round the corners of the houses in Sanne and Emtervik parishes; but when he came to Frykstad, the girl was already there, and when he got back to Fryksend, she was there before him this time also.

  “Can you see now who comes in first?” she said.

  “Yes, of course I can,” said Old Nick, and began to dry the perspiration off his face, thinking all the time what a wonderful runner that girl must be. “But you know,” he said, “twice is hardly half a time! It’s the third time that counts.”

  “Let’s have another try, then,” said the girl.

  Yes, that he would, for Old Nick is very sly, you know, for when the leather shoes were so torn to pieces that his feet were bleeding, he knew well enough what state the bark shoes would be in.

  And so they set off again. Old Nick went at a terrible speed; it was just like a regular north-wester rushing past, for now he was furious. He rushed onwards, so that the roofs were swept away and the fences creaked and groaned all the way through Sanne and Emtervik parishes. But when he got to Frykstad the girl was there, and when he got back to Fryksend then she was there too.

  His feet were now in such a plight that the flesh hung in pieces from them, and he was so out of breath, and groaned so hard, that the sound echoed in the mountains. The girl almost pitied the old creature, disgusting as he was.

  “Do you see, now,” she said, “that there’s a better spring in my bark shoes than in your leather ones? There’s nothing left of yours, while mine will hold out for another run, if you would like to try,” she said.

  No, Old Nick had now to acknowledge himself beaten, and so she was free.

  “I’ve never seen the like of such a woman,” he said; “but if you go on dancing and jumping about like that all your days we are sure to meet once more,” he said.

  “Oh, no!” said the girl. And since then she has never danced again, for it is not every time that you can succeed in getting away from Old Nick.

  1.Another name for the Devil.

  THE WAY of the WORLD

  Norway

  Once on a time there was a man who went into the wood to cut hop-poles, but he could find no trees so long and straight and slender as he wanted, till he came high up under a great heap of stones. There he heard groans and moans as though some one were at Death’s door. So he went up to see who it was that needed help, and then he heard that the noise came from under a great flat stone which lay upon the heap. It was so heavy it would have taken many a man to lift it. But the man went down again into the wood and cut down a tree, which he turned into a lever, and with that he tilted up the stone, and lo! out from under it crawled a Dragon, and made at the man to swallow him up. But the man said he had saved the Dragon’s life, and it was shameful thanklessness in him to want to eat him up.

  “May be,” said the Dragon, “but you might very well know I must be starved when I have been here hundreds of years and never tasted meat. Besides, it’s the way of the world—that’s how it pays its debts.”

  The man pleaded his cause stoutly, and begged prettily for his life; and at last they agreed to take the first living thing that came for a daysman, and if his doom went the other way the man should not lose his life, but if he said the same as the Dragon, the Dragon should eat the man.

  The first thing that came was an old hound, who ran along the road down below under the hillside. Him they spoke to, and begged him to be judge.

  “God knows,” said the hound, “I have served my master truly ever since I was a little whelp. I have watched and watched many and many a night through while he lay warm asleep on his ear, and I have saved house and home from fire and thieves more than once; but now I can neither see nor hear any more, and he wants to shoot me. And so I must run away, and slink from house to house, and beg for my living till I die of hunger. No! it’s the way of the world,” said the hound; “that’s how it pays its debts.”

  “Now I am coming to eat you up,” said the Dragon, and tried to swallow the man again. But the man begged and prayed hard for his life, till they agreed to take the next comer for a judge; and if he said the same as the Dragon and the hound, the Dragon was to eat him, and get a meal of man’s meat; but if he did not say so, the man was to get off with his life.

  So there came an old horse limping down along the road which ran under the hill. Him they called out to come and settle the dispute. Yes; he was quite ready to do that.

  “Now, I have served my master,” said the horse, “as long as I could draw or carry. I have slaved and striven for him till the sweat trickled from every hair, and I have worked till I have grown lame, and halt, and worn out with toil and age; now I am fit for nothing. I am not worth my food, and so I am to have a bullet through me, he says. Nay! nay! It’s the way of the world. That’s how the world pays its debts.”

  “Well, now I’m coming to eat you,” said the Dragon, who gaped wide, and wanted to swallow the man. But he begged again hard for his life.

  But the Dragon said he must have a mouthful of man’s meat; he was so hungry, he couldn’t bear it any longer.

  “See, yonder comes one who looks as if he was sent to be a judge between us,” said the man, as he pointed to Reynard the fox, who came stealing between the stones of the heap.

  “All good things are three,” said the man; “let me ask him, too, and if he gives doom like the others, eat me up on the spot.”

  “Very well,” said the Dragon. He, too, had heard that all good things were three, and so it should be a bargain. So the man talked to the fox as he had talked to the others.

  “Yes, yes,” said Reynard, “I see how it all is;” but as he said this he took the man a little on one side.

  “What will you give me if I free you from the Dragon?” he whispered into the man’s ear.

  “You shall be free to come to my house, and to be lord and master over my hens and geese every Thursday night,” said the man.

  “Well, my dear Dragon,” said Reynard, “this is a very hard nut to crack. I can’t get it into my head how you, who are so big and mighty a beast, could find room to lie under yon stone.”

  “Can’t you?” said the Dragon; “well, I lay under the
hill-side, and sunned myself, and down came a landslip, and hurled the stone over me.”

  “All very likely, I dare say,” said Reynard; “but still I can’t understand it, and what’s more I won’t believe it till I see it.”

  So the man said they had better prove it, and the Dragon crawled down into his hole again; but in the twinkling of an eye they whipped out the lever, and down the stone crashed again on the Dragon.

  “Lie now there till doomsday,” said the fox. “You would eat the man, would you, who saved your life?”

  The Dragon groaned, and moaned, and begged hard to come out; but the two went their way and left him alone.

  The very first Thursday night Reynard came to be lord and master over the hen-roost, and hid himself behind a great pile of wood hard by. When the maid went to feed the fowls, in stole Reynard. She neither saw nor heard anything of him; but her back was scarce turned before he had sucked blood enough for a week, and stuffed himself so that he couldn’t stir. So when she came again in the morning, there Reynard lay and snored, and slept in the morning sun, with all four legs stretched straight; and he was as sleek and round as a German sausage.

  Away ran the lassie for the goody, and she came, and all the lasses with her, with sticks and brooms to beat Reynard; and, to tell the truth, they nearly banged the life out of him; but, just as it was almost all over with him, and he thought his last hour was come, he found a hole in the floor, and so he crept out, and limped and hobbled off to the wood.

  “Oh, oh,” said Reynard; “how true it is. ‘Tis the way of the world; and this is how it pays its debts.”

  DEATH and the DOCTOR

  Norway

  Once on a time there was a lad who had lived as a servant a long time with a man of the North Country. This man was a master at ale-brewing; it was so out-of-the-way good the like of it was not to be found. So, when the lad was to leave his place and the man was to pay him the wages he had earned, he would take no other pay than a keg of Yule-ale. Well, he got it and set off with it, and he carried it both far and long, but the longer he carried the keg the heavier it got, and so he began to look about to see if any one were coming with whom he might have a drink, that the ale might lessen and the keg lighten. And after a long, long time, he met an old man with a big beard.

  “Good day,” said the man.

  “Good day to you,” said the lad.

  “Whither away?” asked the man.

  “I’m looking after some one to drink with, and get my keg lightened,” said the lad.

  “Can’t you drink as well with me as with any one else?” said the man. “I have fared both far and wide, and I am both tired and thirsty.”

  “Well! why shouldn’t I?” said the lad; “but tell me, whence do you come, and what sort of man are you?”

  “I am ‘Our Lord,’ and come from Heaven,” said the man.

  “Thee will I not drink with,” said the lad; “for thou makest such distinction between persons here in the world, and sharest rights so unevenly that some get so rich and some so poor. No! with thee I will not drink,” and as he said this he trotted off with his keg again.

  So when he had gone a bit farther the keg grew too heavy again; he thought he never could carry it any longer unless some one came with whom he might drink, and so lessen the ale in the keg. Yes! he met an ugly, scrawny man who came along fast and furious.

  “Good day,” said the man.

  “Good day to you,” said the lad.

  “Whither away?” asked the man.

  “Oh, I’m looking for some one to drink with, and get my keg lightened,” said the lad.

  “Can’t you drink with me as well as with any one else?” said the man; “I have fared both far and wide, and I am tired and thirsty.”

  “Well, why not?” said the lad; “but who are you, and whence do you come?”

  “Who am I? I am the De’il, and I come from Hell; that’s where I come from,” said the man.

  “No!” said the lad; “thou only pinest and plaguest poor folk, and if there is any unhappiness astir, they always say it is thy fault. Thee I will not drink with.”

  So he went far and farther than far again with his ale-keg on his back, till he thought it grew so heavy there was no carrying it any farther. He began to look round again if any one were coming with whom he could drink and lighten his keg. So after a long, long time, another man came, and he was so dry and lean ’twas a wonder his bones hung together.

  “Good day,” said the man.

  “Good day to you,” said the lad.

  “Whither away?” asked the man.

  “Oh, I was only looking about to see if I could find some one to drink with, that my keg might be lightened a little, it is so heavy to carry.”

  “Can’t you drink as well with me as with any one else?” said the man.

  “Yes; why not?” said the lad. “But what sort of man are you?”

  “They call me Death,” said the man.

  “The very man for my money,” said the lad. “Thee I am glad to drink with,” and as he said this he put down his keg, and began to tap the ale into a bowl. “Thou art an honest, trustworthy man, for thou treatest all alike, both rich and poor.”

  So he drank his health, and Death drank his health, and Death said he had never tasted such drink, and as the lad was fond of him, they drank bowl and bowl about, till the ale was lessened, and the keg grew light.

  At last Death said, “I have never known drink which smacked better, or did me so much good as this ale that you have given me, and I scarce know what to give you in return.” But, after he had thought awhile, he said the keg should never get empty, however much they drank out of it, and the ale that was in it should become a healing drink, by which the lad could make the sick whole again better than any doctor. And he also said that when the lad came into the sick man’s room, Death would always be there, and show himself to him, and it should be to him for a sure token if he saw Death at the foot of the bed that he could cure the sick with a draught from the keg; but if he sat by the pillow, there was no healing nor medicine, for then the sick belonged to Death.

  Well, the lad soon grew famous, and was called in far and near, and he helped many to health again who had been given over. When he came in and saw how Death sat by the sick man’s bed, he foretold either life or death, and his foretelling was never wrong. He got both a rich and powerful man, and at last he was called in to a king’s daughter far, far away in the world. She was so dangerously ill no doctor thought he could do her any good, and so they promised him all that he cared either to ask or have if he would only save her life.

  Now, when he came into the princess’s room, there sat Death at her pillow; but as he sat he dozed and nodded, and while he did this she felt herself better.

  “Now, life or death is at stake,” said the doctor; “and I fear, from what I see, there is no hope.”

  But they said he must save her, if it cost land and realm. So he looked at Death, and while he sat there and dozed again, he made a sign to the servants to turn the bed round so quickly that Death was left sitting at the foot, and at the very moment they turned the bed, the doctor gave her the draught, and her life was saved.

  “Now you have cheated me,” said Death, “and we are quits.”

  “I was forced to do it,” said the doctor, “unless I wished to lose land and realm.”

  “That shan’t help you much,” said Death; “your time is up, for now you belong to me.”

  “Well,” said the lad, “what must be must be; but you’ll let me have time to read the Lord’s Prayer first?”

  Yes, he might have leave to do that; but he took very good care not to read the Lord’s Prayer; everything else he read, but the Lord’s Prayer never crossed his lips, and at last he thought he had cheated Death for good and all. But when Death thought he had really waited too long, he went to the lad’s house one night, and hung up a great tablet with the Lord’s Prayer painted on it over against his bed. So when the lad woke
in the morning he began to read the tablet, and did not quite see what he was about till he came to Amen; but then it was just too late, and Death had him.

  “ALL I POSSESS!”

  Sweden

  There was once a farmer who was so stingy and close fisted that he could scarcely find it in his heart to eat anything; and as for giving anything away to anybody, that was quite out of the question. He also wanted to accustom his wife to do without eating, but it fared with her as with the pedlar’s mare; she died from an over-dose of that doctrine, and so he had to find another wife in her stead.

  And although he was what he was, there were plenty of girls who made themselves agreeable to him and were willing to begin where his wife had left off. For you must know he was rich, the ugly fellow, and it was his money they were after, although they knew they would have to suffer a little in return.

  But he was not satisfied with any of them, for if they ate ever so little, they were sure to want something to eat. Those who were stout and comely would be too expensive to keep, and those who were thin and slender were sure to have a big appetite; so he was not able to find any one to his liking, although he had been all over the parish looking for one.

  But the lad on the farm came to his assistance. He had heard of a girl in one of the neighbouring parishes, who was not even able to eat as much as a whole pea at one meal, but made it do for two.

  The farmer was glad to hear of this; she was the girl he would like to have, and although she was somewhat deaf, so that she never heard more than half of what people said to her, he lost no time in proposing to the girl. Her father and mother said yes at once, seeing that the suitor was so rich, and it did not take him long to persuade the girl herself. A husband she must have some time or other, and so they clinched the matter, and the farmer entered into wedlock for the second time.