The only ones he could even come close to getting along with were Åsa the Goose-girl and Little Mats, a couple of children who, like him, had taken the geese to graze on the fields. But he was not really attached to them either. Far from it.
‘I don’t want to be a human!’ the boy howled. ‘I want to go with you to Lapland. That’s why I’ve been nice a whole week.’
‘I don’t want to stop you going with us, as long as you want to,’ said Akka. ‘But first think about whether you wouldn’t rather return home. There may come a day when you regret this.’
‘No,’ said the boy, ‘there is nothing to regret. I have never had it so good as here with all of you.’
‘Well, then it will be as you wish,’ said Akka.
‘Thank you!’ said the boy, suddenly feeling so happy that he had to cry from joy, just as before he had cried from sorrow.
Four
Glimmingehus
BLACK RATS AND GREY RATS
In south-eastern Skåne not far from the sea is an old castle called Glimmingehus. It consists of a single tall, large, sturdy stone building, which is visible for miles across the plains. It is no more than four storeys high, but it is so massive that an ordinary home on the same property looks like a child’s playhouse.
The big stone building has such thick outer walls and interior walls and ceiling arches that inside it there is hardly room for anything other than the thick walls. The stairs are narrow, the vestibules small and the rooms few in number. In order for the walls to retain their strength, only a small number of windows are found in the upper storeys, and at the bottom there are none at all, only narrow openings for light. During wartime in the past the people were just as happy to stay inside such a strong and massive building as you are now to slip into a fur in bitter cold winter, but when the good time of peace came, they no longer wanted to live in the old castle’s dark, cold stone halls. They abandoned the great Glimmingehus long ago and moved into homes where light and air could get in.
At the time when Nils Holgersson was travelling around with the wild geese, there were thus no people at Glimmingehus, but despite that it certainly did not lack inhabitants. On the roof every summer a pair of storks lived in a large nest; a pair of tawny owls lived in the attic; bats hung in the secret passageways; in the stove in the kitchen lived an old cat; and down in the cellar were several hundred of the old black rats.
Rats were not exactly held in high esteem by the other animals, but the black rats at Glimmingehus constituted an exception. They were always mentioned with respect, because they had shown great courage in battles with their enemies and great persistence during the major misfortunes that had befallen their race. You see, they belonged to a species of rat that had once been very numerous and powerful, but now was in the process of dying out. For a great many years the black rats had owned Skåne and the whole country. They had been found in every cellar, in every attic, in barns and bins, in pantries and bakehouses, in stables and stalls, in churches and castles, in breweries and mills, in every building erected by humans, but now they were expelled from all these and almost exterminated. Only in some old, deserted place or other could you happen upon a few of them, and nowhere were they in such great numbers as at Glimmingehus.
When a species dies out, humans are most often the reason for it, but that was not the case this time. True, people had struggled with the black rats, but they had not been able to do them any appreciable damage. The ones that had conquered them were a species of their own kind, called grey rats.
These grey rats had not lived in the country since ancient times like the black rats. They originated from a couple of poor immigrants, who landed a hundred years ago in Malmö from a barge from Lübeck. These were homeless, starving wretches who kept to the harbour itself, swimming around among the pilings under the piers and eating trash that was thrown in the water. They never ventured up to the city, which was owned by the black rats.
But, by and by, as the grey rats grew in number, they became bolder. To start with they moved into some deserted and condemned old buildings that the black rats had abandoned. They sought their feed in gutters and trash heaps and put up with all the rubbish that the black rats did not care to use. They were hardy, contented and fearless, and within a few years they had become so powerful that they endeavoured to chase the black rats away from Malmö. They took attics, cellars and warehouses away from them, starved them out or bit them to death, because they were not at all afraid of battle.
And when Malmö was taken, they moved off in small and large bands to conquer the whole country. It is almost impossible to understand why the black rats did not gather themselves into a large, joint war expedition and annihilate the grey rats, while these were still few in number. But the black rats were probably so sure of their power that they could not believe in the possibility of losing it. They sat quietly on their properties and in the meantime the grey rats took from them farm after farm, village after village, city after city. They were starved out, forced out, rooted out. In Skåne they had been unable to survive in a single place, except at Glimmingehus.
The old stone building had such secure walls, and so few rat passages led through them, that the black rats managed to defend it and prevent the grey rats from getting in. Year after year, night after night the battle had gone on between attackers and defenders, but the black rats kept faithful watch and fought with the greatest contempt for death and, thanks to the massive old building, they had always won.
It must be admitted that as long as the black rats were in power, they had been just as detested by all other living creatures as the grey rats are nowadays, and with good reason. They attacked poor, shackled prisoners and tormented them, they gorged on corpses, they stole the last turnip in the poor man’s cellar, bit the feet off sleeping geese, stole eggs and chicks from the hens and did a thousand misdeeds. But since they had met with misfortune, all this seemed to be forgotten and no one could keep from admiring the last of the race, which had held out so long with its resistance against the enemies.
The grey rats who lived at the Glimminge estate and in the area around it still continued the struggle and tried to take advantage of every suitable opportunity to take possession of the castle. You might think they ought to have let the little band of black rats occupy Glimmingehus in peace, since they themselves had won the rest of the country, but this did not seem to occur to them. They would say that it was a point of honour for them to once again conquer the black rats, but anyone who knew the grey rats probably understood that it was because humans used Glimmingehus as a grain warehouse that the grey ones could not rest until they had taken it.
THE STORK
Monday, 28 March
Early one morning the wild geese, who were sleeping on the ice of Vombsjön, were woken by a loud call from high in the air. ‘Trirop! Trirop!’ it sounded. ‘Trianut, the crane, sends greetings to Akka, the wild goose, and her flock! Tomorrow the great crane dance is at Kullaberg!’
Akka stretched her head up at once and answered, ‘Greetings in return and thanks! Greetings and thanks!’
With that the cranes flew on, but the wild geese heard them for a long time as they travelled around, calling out over every field and every wooded slope, ‘Trianut sends greetings! Tomorrow is the great crane dance at Kullaberg!’
The wild geese were very happy about this news. ‘You’re in luck,’ they said to the white gander, ‘getting to see the great crane dance.’
‘Is it so remarkable to see cranes dance?’ the gander asked.
‘It’s like nothing you’ve ever dreamed of,’ the wild geese replied.
‘Now we need to think about what to do with Thumbki
n tomorrow, so that no misfortune happens to him while we travel to Kullaberg,’ said Akka.
‘Thumbkin doesn’t need to be alone,’ said the gander. ‘If the cranes don’t allow him to see their dance, then I’ll stay with him.’
‘No human has yet been allowed to be part of the animal gathering at Kullaberg,’ said Akka. ‘And I don’t dare take Thumbkin with me there. But we can talk more about this later in the day. First and foremost now we have to think about getting something to eat.’
Akka then gave the sign for departure. This day too she sought her grazing grounds far away, because of Smirre Fox, and did not touch down until the marshy meadows some distance south of Glimmingehus.
All that day the boy sat by the shore of a little pond, blowing on reeds. He was upset about not being allowed to see the crane dance and could not make himself say a word to the gander or any of the others.
It was truly bitter that Akka should still distrust him. When a boy had given up being human to travel around with some poor wild geese, they really ought to grasp that he had no desire to betray them. And likewise they ought to grasp that when he had sacrificed so much to get to follow them, it was their duty to let him see all the remarkable things they could show him.
‘I’ll just have to clearly say what I think,’ he thought. But hour after hour passed without him making up his mind to do that. It may sound remarkable, but the boy really had acquired a kind of respect for the old lead goose. It was not easy, he felt, setting himself against her will.
On one side of the marshy meadow where the geese were grazing was a broad stone wall, and it now happened that when towards evening the boy raised his head to finally speak with Akka, his eyes fell on this. He let out a little cry of surprise and all the geese looked up at once and turned to stare in the same direction as him. At first both they and the boy thought all the grey cobblestones that the wall was made of had grown legs and started running, but soon they saw that it was a band of rats scampering along it. They moved very quickly and ran ahead closely packed, line by line, and were so numerous that they covered the whole stone wall for some time.
The boy had been afraid of rats even when he was a big, strong human. Why shouldn’t he be now, when he was so little that two or three of them could get the better of him? One shiver after another went down his spine, while he stood looking at them.
But it was remarkable that the geese seemed to share his loathing for the rats. They did not speak to them, and when they were past, they shook themselves, as if they had mud between their feathers.
‘So many grey rats about!’ said Yksi from Vassijaure. ‘That’s not a good sign.’
Now the boy meant to take the opportunity to tell Akka that he thought she ought to let him go with them to Kullaberg, but he was hindered again, because a large bird suddenly landed in the midst of the geese.
When you saw this bird, you might think he had borrowed his body, throat and head from a little white goose. But added to this he had acquired big black wings, long red legs and a long thick beak, which was too big for the little head and weighed it down, giving him a worried and mournful appearance.
Akka quickly adjusted her wing coverts and curtsied multiple times with her neck, as she walked towards the stork. She was not particularly surprised to see him in Skåne so early in the spring, because she knew that the male storks usually travel over there in good time to see that the nest has not suffered damage during the winter, before the female storks make the effort to fly over the Baltic. But she wondered why he had sought her out, because storks prefer to associate with their own kind.
‘I can’t believe there is anything amiss with your residence, Herr Ermenrich,’ said Akka.
It turned out now that it is true, as it is said, that a stork can seldom open its beak without complaining. What made what the stork said sound even more miserable was that he had a hard time getting the words out. He stood for a long while and only clattered with his beak and then spoke in a hoarse, weak voice. He complained about everything imaginable: the nest, which was situated at the top of the roof ridge at Glimmingehus, had been completely ruined by the winter storms, and nowadays he could get no food in Skåne. The people in Skåne were in the process of appropriating all of his property. They drained his marshland and cultivated his bogs. He intended to move out of this country and never come back.
While the stork complained, Akka, the wild goose, who had no patronage or protection anywhere, could not help thinking to herself, ‘If I were as well off as you, Herr Ermenrich, I would have no reason to complain. You have remained a free and wild bird, and yet you are in such good standing with humans that no one will fire a shot at you or steal an egg from your nest.’ But she kept all of this to herself. To the stork she said only that she could not believe that he would want to move away from a house where storks had sought their refuge ever since it was built.
Then the stork quickly asked whether the geese had seen the grey rats, who were marching towards Glimmingehus, and when Akka replied that she had seen the scum, he started telling her about the brave black rats who for many years had defended the castle. ‘But tonight Glimmingehus is going to fall into the hands of the grey rats,’ the stork said with a sigh.
‘Why tonight, Herr Ermenrich?’ Akka asked.
‘Because almost all the black rats went to Kullaberg yesterday evening,’ said the stork. ‘They were confident that all the other animals would hurry there too. But you see that the grey rats have stayed at home, and now they are gathering to force their way into the castle tonight, when it is defended by only a few old wretches who didn’t feel up to going along to Kullaberg. They will probably reach their goal, but I have lived neighbourly with the black rats for so many years that it does not please me to live in the same place as their enemies.’
Akka now understood that the stork had become so aggravated over the grey rats’ conduct that he had sought her out to complain about them. But according to stork custom he had quite certainly done nothing to prevent the misfortune. ‘Have you sent word to the black rats, Herr Ermenrich?’ she asked.
‘No,’ the stork replied. ‘That would do no good. Before they make it back, the castle will already be taken.’
‘You should not be so sure of that, Herr Ermenrich,’ said Akka. ‘I know an old wild goose who would gladly like to prevent such villainy.’
When Akka said this, the stork raised his head and looked wide-eyed at her. And that was not strange, for old Akka had neither claws nor beak that would be good in a battle. And she was a diurnal bird to boot, and as soon as darkness came she fell helplessly asleep, while the rats fought only at night.
But Akka had evidently decided to assist the black rats. She summoned Yksi from Vassijaure and ordered him to lead the geese up to Vombsjön, and when the geese made objections, she said authoritatively, ‘I think that it will be best for all of us that you obey me. I have to fly up to the great stone building, and if you follow me, it can’t be avoided that the farm folk will see us and shoot us down. The only one that I want to take with me on this journey is Thumbkin. He can be very useful to me, because he has good eyes and can stay awake at night.’
The boy was in a contrary mood that day, and when he heard what Akka said, he stretched in order to be as big as possible and stepped forwards with his hands behind his back and his nose in the air and intended to say that he certainly did not want to be involved in fighting with grey rats. She would have to look for help somewhere else.
But just as the boy became visible, the stork started to move. Before, he had stood according to stork habit with his head bowed down and his beak pressed against his neck. But now gurgling was heard deep down in his
throat, as if he was going to laugh. He lowered his beak at breakneck speed, grabbed the boy and threw him a couple of metres up in the air. He repeated this trick seven times, all while the boy shrieked and the geese shouted, ‘What are you up to, Herr Ermenrich? That’s not a frog! It’s a human, Herr Ermenrich!’
At last the stork set the boy down completely unscathed anyway. After that he said to Akka, ‘I am now flying back to Glimmingehus, Mother Akka. Everyone who lives there was very anxious when I left. You can be sure they will be very happy when I tell them that Akka, the wild goose, and Thumbkin, the human imp, are coming to save them.’
With that the stork extended his neck, spread his wings and set off like an arrow when it travels from a hard-drawn bow. Akka knew that he was making fun of her, but she did not let that concern her. She waited until the boy had found his wooden shoes, which the stork had shaken off him. Then she set him on her back and followed the stork. And for his part the boy did not object and did not say a word about not wanting to go along. He had become so angry at the stork that he just sat and snorted. That long red-leg thought he wasn’t good for anything, because he was little, but he would show him what kind of a fellow Nils Holgersson from Västra Vemmenhög is.
A few moments later Akka was in the stork nest at Glimmingehus. It was a large, grand nest. For a base it had a wheel, and over that were several layers of twigs and tufts of grass. The nest was so old that many bushes and plants had taken root up there, and when the stork mother sat on eggs in the round hole in the middle of the nest, she not only had the beautiful view of a good part of Skåne to enjoy, she also had rosehip flowers and houseleeks to look at.
Both the boy and Akka could see at once that something was going on here that turned all normal order upside down. You see, on the edge of the stork nest were sitting two tawny owls, an old grey-striped cat and a dozen ancient rats with deformed teeth and runny eyes. These were not exactly the kind of animals that you otherwise see in peaceful coexistence.
The Wonderful Adventure of Nils Holgersson Page 7