The Hero of Esthonia and Other Studies in the Romantic Literature of That Country Part 8

Then the Kalevide asked the sword who had stolen it and sunk it in the water, and the sword sang in reply how the sorcerer had carried it off, and how it had slipped from his grasp into the water, into the embraces of the fairest of the water-nymphs. The Kalevide answered, "Does my sword prefer to lie in the arms of a water-nymph rather than to feel the grasp of a hero in battle?" The sword reminded the Kalevide of the terrible murder in Finland, which it declared it could never forget, and the hero abandoned the weapon to its sweet repose, saying that he relied on his own strength to overcome his enemies in battle. But he laid his commands on the sword that if any heroes of his race, Kalevides, Alevides, or Sulevides, should come to the spot, then the sword should address them in words. If a great singer came, the sword was to sing to him; if a hero as brave and as strong as the Kalevide himself should come to the brook, then the sword was to rise from its bed and join him; but if the man himself who had brought the sword there should come that way, then the sword was to cut off both his feet.

By this he meant the sorcerer, but he expressed himself ambiguously.

The son of Kalev then left the brook, took the boards on his back, and set out for home. On his journey he pa.s.sed through a pine forest which belonged to men, a leafy forest sacred to women, and a hazel thicket, the last refuge of the maidens, the orphans, and the sick. Here his foot touched something soft, which he found to be a man of about the stature of our present race, who was quaking with fear and besought his protection. The Kalevide took him up kindly by the hair, and dropped him into his wallet, where he fell as down a deep precipice, till he came to a stop among the bread and herrings at the bottom. Then the hero asked him what had frightened him so much.

Up from the bottom of the bag came a voice like the croaking of a frog from the bottom of a deep well, and this was the man's story:--"Yesterday evening I was wandering on the sh.o.r.es of Lake Peipus, and lost my way. Presently I came to a footpath which led me to a poor hut, where I thought to find a night's lodging. I came into a great empty room, where an old woman was standing by the hearth preparing supper. She was cooking half a pig in a great pot with peas, and kindly gave me a cupful, but told me to eat my supper quick. As soon as I had finished, she told me to hide among the straw which she had laid under the table, and to lie as still as a mouse, for if I only moved a finger after her sons returned, they would be sure to kill me. I thanked the good old woman, and crept into the straw, where three men could easily have hidden themselves; and I hoped to sleep. But presently I heard steps approaching which shook the house; and whether or not it was my fear that makes me think so, I fancy, n.o.ble scion of the Kalevides, that even your heavy tread never made such a noise.

"The two brothers rushed into the room like wild bears, and one of them sniffed about the room and said, 'Mother, who has been here? I smell man's sweat.' 'n.o.body has even been near the house to-day, my son,'

answered the old woman. 'If you smell anything, you must have brought the smell with you from out of doors.'

"Then she gave them their supper, and they ate as much as would have satisfied fifty of our race, and left something over. Then they laid themselves down on the hard floor, one on each side the table, while the old woman crept cautiously up the ladder to her couch above the stove.

"Poor wretch that I am! if I had ever expected to find myself in such a position, I would rather have drowned myself in the lake or thrown myself over a precipice. I could not sleep a wink all night, and when the old woman opened the door in the morning I crept behind her, and fled through two woods till I reached the third, where you found me."

This was the poor man's story, and the Kalevide laughed heartily at the recital.

[Footnote 60: This is a well-known Mongol characteristic; and it is rather oddly attributed by Arabic writers to the Jinn. "Two of them appeared in the form and aspect of the Jarm, each with one eye slit endlong, and jutting horns and projecting tusks."--Story of Tohfat-el-Kulub (_Thousand and One Nights_, Breslau edition).]

CANTO XII

THE FIGHT WITH THE SORCERER'S SONS

As the Kalevide proceeded on his way, carrying his heavy load of planks, the sorcerer's three sons rushed upon him from an ambush close to a high waterfall which foams over steep rocks. He had been walking quietly along, and the man in his wallet had fallen comfortably asleep. The villains sprang upon the hero from behind, armed with slender young birch-trees and dry pine-trunks. Two of them carried long whips, the handle formed of strong beech-wood, and the lash armed with a great millstone, with which they belaboured the hero unmercifully. He had just armed himself with a huge club, in case he should be a.s.saulted in pa.s.sing through the wood. It was a great pine-trunk from which he had broken the crown. It was five-and-thirty ells long, and two feet thick at the thick end, and with this he could defend himself as with a sword.

The Kalevide tried at first to remonstrate with his a.s.sailants, but as they continued to annoy him he rushed upon them with his club. The pine club was soon splintered, the fragments flying in all directions, and then the Kalevide defended himself with the planks which he was carrying, and at every blow he smashed one on the backs of his enemies.

Presently his load was nearly exhausted, and the sorcerer's sons, hoping now for an easy victory, pressed him more hardly, when suddenly he heard a little voice crying from the bushes, "Dear son of Kalev, strike them with the edges!"[61] The hero at once took the hint, and, instead of striking with the flat side of the planks, began to strike with the sharp edges, and his enemies soon fled before him, howling like wolves.

If the savages had not been thoroughly hardened by long exposure to heat and cold by day and night, he would have left them dead on the field.

The Kalevide sat down to rest after the battle, and called to his dear brother, who had aided him, to show himself. But his friend answered that he could not venture out into the open, for he was only a poor naked little hedgehog. So the hero called to him to come, and he would clothe him. The hedgehog crept out of his warm nest, naked and s.h.i.+vering, and the hero cut a piece from the lining of his own coat, and gave it to the hedgehog, who joyfully wrapped himself in the warm covering. But the piece was not large enough to cover him entirely, and his legs and belly remained naked as before.

The Kalevide now wanted to sleep, but he was in the midst of a swamp. He therefore fetched a load of sand from the distant sandhills, to make himself a bed. He then felt into his bag for something to eat, when his thumb came against the cold stiff body of his little friend, who had been killed in his sleep by a chance blow during the fight, without having had time to cry out or move a limb. He was much grieved at the untimely death of his _protege_, and dug him a grave with his own hands, round which he planted berry-bearing bushes. Then he ate his supper and fell asleep, to dream of the events of the past day.

While he was asleep, the sorcerer himself crept to his side, and by his spells and incantations, and the use of magic herbs, threw him into a deep slumber, which lasted for days and nights. Presently a messenger came in haste to summon the king, and the cup-bearer directed him to Lake Peipus; but no one had seen or heard anything of him.

On a fine summer's day, the people flocked from all parts of the country to the sacred hill of Taara for a great festival, and as yet there came no news of the king. Summer faded into autumn, and the Kalevide still slept on, but he was dreaming of a new sword, much better than the uncle of his father Kalev had forged for him, which was forged in an underground smithy.

This sword had been forged by the pupils of Ilmarine[62] in a workshop in the interior of a great mountain at the middle point of the earth, the peak of which was lost in the clouds. Seven strong smiths wrought it with copper hammers, the handles of which were of silver, and one of their company turned it on the fire or laid it on the anvil with tongs of the purest silver, while Ilmarine himself watched every stroke of the hammers.

Presently a young man entered, pale and covered with blood, and he only touched his cap without further salutation, and cried out to the workmen not to waste the sword on the murderous son of Kalev, who could slay his best friends in his rage. The Kalevide tried to cry out that it was false, but the son of the old Tuhja[63] oppressed him with a nightmare, and he could not utter a word; he felt as if a mountain lay upon his breast, and the sweat ran from his face.

On the following morning the Kalevide awoke from his sleep. He knew that the vision of the smithy was a dream, but he was not aware that he had slept for seven weeks without intermission. He found that his planks were nearly all destroyed, and determined to fetch a fresh load from Pleskau.

When he came to the lake, he heard a boy shouting for help. It was a herd-boy, whose favourite lamb was being carried off by a wolf. He killed the wolf with a stone,[64] and then stood by the lake considering what to do next. Presently he decided to build a bridge across the "puddle;" and built it out into the lake for perhaps a couple of miles, when a great storm arose and swept away the unfinished structure. When he saw his work destroyed, he said, "Why didn't I wade straight through, as I did before, instead of wasting my time like this?" So he caught a supply of crayfish, which he roasted and ate, and then set out on his journey through the water.

On the sh.o.r.es of Lake Peipus lived a poor orphan boy, who had lost all dear to him by famine, pestilence, and war, and who was now compelled to slave as herd-boy for a hard mistress,[65] and to mind the children as well as to look after the sheep and goats. He sang sad songs, till at length the wood-nymph took compa.s.sion on him, and sang to him one evening from the summit of an oak-tree, telling him that good luck would be his in the morning. Next morning he found a lark's egg hidden among leaves, which he hid in his bosom next his heart wrapped in wool and a strip of linen. A mouse was hatched from it, which he fostered in the same way till it became a kitten, a puppy, a lamb, and at length a sheep[66] with fine white wool, and the sheep was so dear to the boy that he left off weeping and lamenting, and always felt happy and contented, though his lot was still a hard one.

[Footnote 61: This reminds us of the help given to Hiawatha by the woodp.e.c.k.e.r during his fight with Megissogwun; but the one incident can hardly be copied from the other. _Hiawatha_ was published some years before the _Kalevipoeg_.]

[Footnote 62: This is the only pa.s.sage in the _Kalevipoeg_ in which one of the heroes of the _Kalevala_ is personally introduced.]

[Footnote 63: Emptiness; probably the Contemptible One; a name often used for one of the princ.i.p.al demons.]

[Footnote 64: The rock is still shown, bearing the imprints of the hero's fingers, each cleft large enough to hold a man.]

[Footnote 65: This was the fate of Kullervo himself in the _Kalevala_.

Orphans, for whom much sympathy is expressed, constantly appear in Esthonian tales. Compare p. 236 of the present volume.]

[Footnote 66: We have a similar series of transformations (mouse, cat, dog, a.s.s, buffalo) in the story of Noor Ed-Deen and Shes Ed-Deen in the _Thousand and One Nights_.]

CANTO XIII

THE KALEVIDE'S FIRST JOURNEY TO HADES

On the Kalevide's homeward journey he slept for a night at the place where his sword had been stolen, and set out early next morning, making his way through bush and brake. He walked on till sunset with his load of planks without stopping to rest, and then ate his supper and prepared himself a bed of sand as usual. When he awoke in the morning, a magpie informed him for the first time that the sorcerer had kept him in a magic sleep for seven weeks, and he quickened his pace. But when he reached Lake Ilma he found it, to his disgust, too deep to wade through, and he was compelled to go round it.

Presently he encountered an old witch, a relative of the sorcerer who had done him so much harm already, sitting among the bushes and singing magic songs. The hero stopped to rest himself, for the day was very warm, and listened to her song, which was a long charm against snake-bites. Then he walked on till noon, when he took a siesta, breaking down trees of all kinds to make himself a couch. Afterwards he turned to the left in the direction of Lake Endla, and towards evening he came to the entrance of a cavern, before which a great fire was burning. A huge caldron hung over it by heavy iron chains, just opposite the entrance to the cavern, and three fellows were standing round, who grinned and whispered to each other as the stranger approached.

The Kalevide threw down the planks and asked the men what they had got in the caldron, and whether they were getting ready for a feast or a wedding. They replied that the caldron cooked for everybody, and that when they made a feast they killed a great ox. It took a hundred men to kill it, five hundred to bleed it, and a thousand to cleanse it.[67] But to-day they were only cooking for poor people; only half an elk, the ribs of an old boar, the lungs and liver of a bear, the suet of a young wolf, the hide of an old bear, and an egg from an eagle's nest. Old Sarvik[68] and the old mother were to dine from it; the cat and dog were to get their share, and the rest was to be divided among the cooks and workmen; but the old mother was going to bake cakes for the young ladies' dinner.

The Kalevide expressed his disgust at such cookery, but they told him it was good enough for witches and sorcerers, and he then asked them to show him the way to their master's house, as he wished to pay his respects to the family. They warned him that he might not escape easily; but as he persisted, they directed him to the cavern, which he immediately entered, while the demons laughed, saying that the bear had fallen into the trap and the lion[69] into the net, and that he was carrying his hide to market for nothing.

The cave was so dark and narrow that the hero soon found himself obliged to creep on all fours, and to grope his way. At last he perceived a faint light at a distance, and the cavern enlarged so much that he could now stand upright again.

Where the roof rose highest, a heavy lamp hung by chains from the ceiling, and beyond it were great folding-doors. On each side stood a jar, one filled with a liquid as white as milk, and the other with a liquid as black as pitch. Inside he could hear maidens spinning and singing,[70] lamenting the happiness of their former lives, and hoping that some deliverer might appear. Then he strove to force the door, but it resisted all his efforts, so he sang a song in his softest tones, telling how he had encountered four fair maidens gathering flowers in the woods. The maidens sang back that he had come at a good time, for all the family were out, and they directed him to dip his hands in the dark liquid, which would give him magic strength; but if he wished to moderate his strength, then to dip his hands in the white liquid, for the dark liquid would give him strength to dash everything to pieces.

The hero dipped his hands in the dark liquid, and felt his strength redoubled. He pushed against the door again, and the door and door-posts too came thundering to the ground. The maidens fled into the adjoining room, crying out to him not to approach them till he had dipped his hands in the white liquid, which would remove the enchantment. He laughed, and, notwithstanding their entreaties, followed them into the next room, where he saw a naked sword, a small willow wand, and a ragged old hat hanging on the wall. "Look," cried he joyfully, "this is the sword which I saw forged for me in my dream!"

"Beware," said one of the maidens, "do not touch that sword, for it belongs to Sarvik; but take the rod and the hat, for they are yours, and you can work any wonders with them. Swords you can only obtain from the smith himself."

But the Kalevide answered that he could have his will without the wis.h.i.+ng-rod and cap, which were only fit for witches and wizards. So the maiden, who was anxious to convince him of the value of the treasures which he despised, took down the hat from its peg. It was made of the cuttings of finger-nails,[71] and she declared that there was not another like it in the world, for it could fulfil every desire of its possessor. So she put it on her head and said--

"Raise thee, raise thee, golden[72] maiden, Blue-eyed maiden, raise thee, raise thee, Like unto the son of Kalev, Like unto thy friend in stature."

She began at once to grow taller, ell after ell, till she grew fully as tall as the son of Kalev himself.

Then the Kalevide took the hat from her head and set it on his own, wis.h.i.+ng to become as small as she had been. His stature immediately sank, ell after ell, till he was reduced to the size of an ordinary man.[73] The young giantess took back the hat, and wished to resume her former stature, which accordingly befell.

The Kalevide then said to the maiden that he would willingly remain a little boy that day for her sake, but he was now anxious to keep the hat, that he might at once resume his own stature and strength in case of any sudden and unexpected danger. They sang and danced and sported to their heart's content, and the maiden called her second sister, whose duty it was to polish the gold, silver, and copper ware; and her third sister, who tended the geese on the common; and the sisters locked and bolted the kitchen door, for fear the old woman should hear the noise and come to disturb their merriment.

The maidens were delighted, for though the Kalevide declared that he could not think of marrying a wife himself, he would deliver them from Hades next day, and would marry one to the son of Alev, one to the son of Sulev, and one to the cup-bearer.[74] So they played all sorts of games; the falcon-game, in which the hero was the falcon, and they were the birds; kiss-in-the-ring, blind man's buff, &c. But whatever they played at, the hero always got the best of the game. When they were tired of this amus.e.m.e.nt, they put out all the lights.