“Well, what shall I buy with this?” asked the merchant; “there won’t be much time lost over this bargain.”
“Buy what I can get for it. It is honest, that I know,” said the lad.
That his master gave his word to do, and so he sailed away.
So when the merchant had unladed his ship and laded her again in foreign lands, and bought what he had promised his servants to buy, he came down to his ship, and was just going to shove off from the wharf. Then all at once it came into his head that the scullion had sent out a silver penny with him, that he might buy something for him.
“Must I go all the way back to the town for the sake of a silver penny? One would then have small gain in taking such a beggar into one’s house,” thought the merchant.
Just then an old wife came walking by with a bag at her back.
“What have you got in your bag, mother?” asked the merchant.
“Oh! nothing else than a cat. I can’t afford to feed it any longer, so I thought I would throw it into the sea, and make away with it,” answered the woman.
Then the merchant said to himself, “Didn’t the lad say I was to buy what I could get for his penny?” So he asked the old wife if she would take four farthings for her cat. Yes! the goody was not slow to say “done,” and so the bargain was soon struck.
Now when the merchant had sailed a bit, fearful weather fell on him, and such a storm, there was nothing for it but to drive and drive till he did not know whither he was going. At last he came to a land on which he had never set foot before, and so up he went into the town.
At the inn where he turned in, the board was laid with a rod for each man who sat at it. The merchant thought it very strange, for he couldn’t at all make out what they were to do with all these rods; but he sat him down, and thought he would watch well what the others did, and do like them. Well! as soon as the meat was set on the board, he saw well enough what the rods meant; for out swarmed mice in thousands, and each one who sat at the board had to take to his rod and flog and flap about him, and naught else could be heard than one cut of the rod harder than the one which went before it. Sometimes they whipped one another in the face, and just gave themselves time to say, “Beg pardon,” and then at it again.
“Hard work to dine in this land!” said the merchant. “But don’t folk keep cats here?”
“Cats?” they all asked, for they did not know what cats were.
So the merchant sent and fetched the cat he had bought for the scullion, and as soon as the cat got on the table, off ran the mice to their holes, and folks had never in the memory of man had such rest at their meat.
Then they begged and prayed the merchant to sell them the cat, and at last, after a long, long time, he promised to let them have it; but he would have a hundred dollars for it; and that sum they gave and thanks besides.
So the merchant sailed off again; but he had scarce got good sea-room before he saw the cat sitting up at the mainmast head, and all at once again came foul weather and a storm worse than the first, and he drove and drove till he got to a country where he had never been before. The merchant went up to an inn, and here, too, the board was spread with rods; but they were much bigger and longer than the first. And, to tell the truth, they had need to be; for here the mice were many more, and every mouse was twice as big as those he had before seen.
So he sold the cat again, and this time he got two hundred dollars for it, and that without any haggling.
So when he had sailed away from that land and got a bit out at sea, there sat Grimalkin again at the masthead; and the bad weather began at once again, and the end of it was, he was again driven to a land where he had never been before.
He went ashore, up to the town, and turned into an inn. There, too, the board was laid with rods, but every rod was an ell and a half long, and as thick as a small broom; and the folk said that to sit at meat was the hardest trial they had, for there were thousands of big ugly rats, so that it was only with sore toil and trouble one could get a morsel into one’s mouth, ’twas such hard work to keep off the rats. So the cat had to be fetched up from the ship once more, and then folks got their food in peace. Then they all begged and prayed the merchant, for heaven’s sake, to sell them his cat. For a long time he said “No;” but at last he gave his word to take three hundred dollars for it. That sum they paid down at once, and thanked him and blessed him for it into the bargain.
Now, when the merchant got out to sea, he fell a-thinking how much the lad had made out of the penny he had sent out with him.
“Yes, yes, some of the money he shall have,” said the merchant to himself, “but not all. Me it is that he has to thank for the cat I bought; and besides, every man is nearest to his own self.”
But as soon as ever the merchant thought this, such a storm and gale arose that everyone thought the ship must founder. So the merchant saw there was no help for it, and he had to vow that the lad should have every penny; and no sooner had he vowed this vow, than the weather turned good, and he got a snoring breeze fair for home.
So, when he got to land, he gave the lad the six hundred dollars, and his daughter besides; for now the little scullion was just as rich as his master, the merchant, and even richer; and, after that, the lad lived all his days in mirth and jollity; and he sent for his mother, and treated her as well as or better than he treated himself; “for,” said the lad, “I don’t think that everyone is nearest to his own self.”
THE BOY WHO DID NOT KNOW WHAT FEAR WAS
Iceland
There was once a boy so courageous and spirited that his relations despaired of ever frightening him into obedience to their will, and took him to the parish priest to be brought up. But the priest could not subdue him in the least, though the boy never showed either obstinacy or ill-temper towards him.
Once in the winter three dead bodies were brought to be buried, but as it was late in the afternoon they were put into the church till next day, when the priest would be able to bury them. In those days it was the custom to bury people without coffins, and only wrapped up in grave-clothes. The priest ordered these three bodies to be laid a little distance apart, across the middle of the church.
After nightfall the priest said to the boy, “Run into the church and fetch me the book which I left on the altar.”
With his usual willingness he ran into the church, which was quite dark, and half way to the altar stumbled against something which lay on the floor, and fell down on his face. Not in the least alarmed, he got up again, and, after groping about, found that he had stumbled over one of the corpses, which he took in his arms and pushed into the side-benches out of his way. He tumbled over the other two, and disposed of them in like manner. Then, taking the book from the altar, he left the church, shut the door behind him, and gave the volume to the priest, who asked him if he had encountered anything extraordinary in the church.
“Not that I can remember,” said the boy.
The priest asked again, “Did you not find three corpses lying across your passage?”
“Oh yes,” replied he, “but what about them?”
“Did they not lie in your way?”
“Yes, but they did not hinder me.”
The priest asked, “How did you get to the altar?”
The boy replied, “I stuck the good folk into the side-benches, where they lie quietly enough.”
The priest shook his head, but said nothing more that night.
Next morning he said to the boy, “You must leave me; I cannot keep near me any longer one who is shameless enough to break the repose of the dead.”
The boy, nothing loth, bade farewell to the priest and his family, and wandered about some little time without a home.
Once he came to a cottage, where he slept the night, and there the people told him that the Bishop of Skálholt was just dead. So next day he went off to Skálholt, and arriving there in the evening, begged a night’s lodging.
The people said to him, “You may have it and
welcome, but you must take care of yourself.”
“Why take care of myself so much?” asked the lad.
They told him that after the death of the bishop, no one could stay in the house after nightfall, as some ghost or goblin walked about there, and that on this account everyone had to leave the place after twilight.
The boy answered, “Well and good; that will just suit me.”
At twilight the people all left the place, taking leave of the boy, whom they did not expect to see again alive.
When they had all gone, the boy lighted a candle and examined every room in the house till he came to the kitchen, where he found large quantities of smoked mutton hung up to the rafters. So, as he had not tasted meat for some time, and had a capital appetite, he cut some of the dried mutton off with his knife, and placing a pot on the fire, which was still burning, cooked it.
When he had finished cutting up the meat, and had put the lid on the pot, he heard a voice from the top of the chimney, which said, “May I come down?”
The lad answered, “Yes, why not?”
Then there fell down on to the floor of the kitchen half a giant,—head, arms, hands, and body, as far as the waist, and lay there motionless.
After this he heard another voice from the chimney, saying, “May I come down?”
“If you like,” said the boy; “why not?”
Accordingly down came another part of the giant, from the waist to the thighs, and lay on the floor motionless.
Then he heard a third voice from the same direction, which said, “May I come down?”
“Of course,” he replied; “you must have something to stand upon.”
So a huge pair of legs and feet came down and lay by the rest of the body, motionless.
After a bit the boy, finding this want of movement rather tedious, said, “Since you have contrived to get yourself all in, you had better get up and go away.”
Upon this the pieces crept together, and the giant rose on his feet from the floor, and, without uttering a word, stalked out of the kitchen. The lad followed him, till they came to a large hall, in which stood a wooden chest. This chest the goblin opened, and the lad saw that it was full of money. Then the goblin took the money out in handfuls, and poured it like water over his head, till the floor was covered with heaps of it; and, having spent half the night thus, spent the other half in restoring the gold to the chest in the like manner. The boy stood by and watched him filling the chest again, and gathering all the stray coins together by sweeping his great arms violently over the floor, as if he dreaded to be interrupted before he could get them all in, which the lad fancied must be because the day was approaching.
When the goblin had shut up the coffer, he rushed past the lad as if to get out of the hall; but the latter said to him, “Do not be in too great a hurry.”
“I must make haste,” replied the other, “for the day is dawning.”
But the boy took him by the sleeve and begged him to remain yet a little longer for friendship’s sake.
At this the goblin waxed angry, and, clutching hold of the youth, said, “Now you shall delay me no longer.”
But the latter clung tight to him, and slipped out of the way of every blow he dealt, and some time passed away in this kind of struggle. It happened, however, at last, that the giant turned his back to the open door, and the boy, seeing his chance, tripped him up and butted at him with his head, so that the other fell heavily backwards, half in and half out of the hall, and broke his spine upon the threshold. At the same moment the first ray of dawn struck his eyes through the open house door, and he instantly sank into the ground in two pieces, one each side of the door of the hall. Then the courageous boy, though half dead from fatigue, made two crosses of wood and drove them into the ground where the two parts of the goblin had disappeared. This done, he fell asleep till, when the sun was well up, the people came back to Skálholt. They were amazed and rejoiced to find him still alive, asking him whether he had seen anything in the night.
“Nothing out of the common,” he said.
So he stayed there all that day, both because he was tired, and because the people were loth to let him go.
In the evening, when the people began as usual to leave the place, he begged them to stay, assuring them that they would be troubled by neither ghost nor goblin. But in spite of his assurances they insisted upon going, though they left him this time without any fear for his safety. When they were gone, he went to bed and slept soundly till morning.
On the return of the people he told them all about his struggle with the goblin, showed them the crosses he had set up, and the chestful of money in the hall, and assured them that they would never again be troubled at night, so need not leave the place. They thanked him most heartily for his spirit and courage, and asked him to name any reward he would like to receive, whether money or other precious things, inviting him, in addition, to remain with them as long as ever he chose. He was grateful for their offers, but said, “I do not care for money, nor can I make up my mind to stay longer with you.”
Next day he addressed himself to his journey, and no persuasion could induce him to remain at Skálholt. For he said, “I have no more business here, as you can now, without fear, live in the bishop’s house.” And taking leave of them all, he directed his steps northwards, into the wilderness.
For a long time nothing new befell him, until one day he came to a large cave, into which he entered. In a smaller cave within the other he found twelve beds, all in disorder and unmade. As it was yet early, he thought he could do no better than employ himself in making them, and having made them, threw himself on to the one nearest the entrance, covered himself up, and went to sleep.
After a little while he awoke and heard the voices of men talking in the cave, and wondering who had made the beds for them, saying that, whoever he was, they were much obliged to him for his pains. He saw, on looking out, that they were twelve armed men of noble aspect. When they had had supper, they came into the inner cave and eleven of them went to bed. But the twelfth man, whose bed was next to the entrance, found the boy in it, and called to the others. They rose and thanked the lad for having made their beds for them, and begged him to remain with them as their servant, for they said that they never found time to do any work for themselves, as they were compelled to go out every day at sunrise to fight their enemies, and never returned till night. The lad asked them why they were forced to fight day after day? They answered that they had over and over again fought, and overcome their enemies, but that though they killed them overnight they always came to life again before morning, and would come to the cave and slay them all in their beds if they were not up and ready on the field at sunrise.
In the morning the cave-men went out fully armed, leaving the lad behind to look after the household work.
About noon he went in the same direction as the men had taken, in order to find out where the battle-field was, and as soon as he had espied it in the distance, ran back to the cave.
In the evening the warriors returned weary and dispirited, but were glad to find that the boy had arranged everything for them, so that they had nothing more to do than eat their supper and go to bed.
When they were all asleep, the boy wondered to himself how it could possibly come to pass that their enemies rose every night from the dead. So moved with curiosity was he, that as soon as he was sure that his companions were fast asleep he took what of their weapons and armour he found to fit him best, and stealing out of the cave, made off in the direction of the battle-field. There was nothing at first to be seen there but corpses and trunkless heads, so he waited a little time to see what would happen. About dawn he perceived a mound near him open of itself, and an old woman in a blue cloak come out with a glass phial in her hand. He noticed her go up to a dead warrior, and having picked up his head, smear his neck with some ointment out of the phial and place the head and trunk together. Instantly the warrior stood erect, a living man. The hag repeated this to t
wo or three, until the boy seeing now the secret of the thing, rushed up to her and stabbed her to death as well as the men she had raised, who were yet stupid and heavy as if after sleep. Then taking the phial, he tried whether he could revive the corpses with the ointment, and found on experiment that he could do so successfully. So he amused himself for a while in reviving the men and killing them again, till, at sunrise, his companions arrived on the field.
They were mightily astonished to see him there, and told him that they had missed him as well as some of their weapons and armour; but they were rejoiced to find their enemies lying dead on the field instead of being alive and awaiting them in battle array, and asked the lad how he had got the idea of thus going at night to the battle-field, and what he had done.
He told them all that had passed, showed them the phial of ointment, and, in order to prove its power, smeared the neck of one of the corpses, who at once rose to his feet, but was instantly killed again by the cave-men. They thanked the boy heartily for the service he had rendered them, and begged him to remain among them, offering him at the same time money for his work. He declared that he was quite willing, paid or unpaid, to stay with them, as long as they liked to keep him. The cave-men were well pleased with his answer, and having embraced the lad, set to work to strip their enemies of their weapons: made a heap of them with the old woman on the top, and burned them; and then, going into the mound, appropriated to themselves all the treasures they found there. After this they proposed the game of killing each other, to try how it was to die, as they could restore one another to life again. So they killed each other, but by smearing themselves with the ointment, they at once returned to life.
Now this was great sport for a while.
Nordic Tales Page 9