The Lilac Fairy Book Part 25

All good things go in threes, so Matte and his wife fished for salmon in spring, for herring in summer, and for cod in winter. When on Sat.u.r.days the weather was fine and the wind favourable, they sailed to the nearest town, sold their fish, and went to church on Sunday. But it often happened that for weeks at a time they were quite alone on the rock Ahtola, and had nothing to look at except their little yellow-brown dog, which bore the grand name of Prince, their gra.s.s tufts, their bushes and blooms, the sea bays and fish, a stormy sky and the blue, white-crested waves. For the rock lay far away from the land, and there were no green islets or human habitations for miles round, only here and there appeared a rock of the same red stone as Ahtola, besprinkled day and night with the ocean spray.

Matte and Maie were industrious, hard-working folk, happy and contented in their poor hut, and they thought themselves rich when they were able to salt as many casks of fish as they required for winter and yet have some left over with which to buy tobacco for the old man, and a pound or two of coffee for his wife, with plenty of burned corn and chicory in it to give it a flavour. Besides that, they had bread, b.u.t.ter, fish, a beer cask, and a b.u.t.termilk jar; what more did they require? All would have gone well had not Maie been possessed with a secret longing which never let her rest; and this was, how she could manage to become the owner of a cow.

'What would you do with a cow?' asked Matte. 'She could not swim so far, and our boat is not large enough to bring her over here; and even if we had her, we have nothing to feed her on.'

'We have four alder bushes and sixteen tufts of gra.s.s,' rejoined Maie.

'Yes, of course,' laughed Matte, 'and we have also three plants of garlic. Garlic would be fine feeding for her.'

'Every cow likes salt herring,' rejoined his wife. 'Even Prince is fond of fish.'

'That may be,' said her husband. 'Methinks she would soon be a dear cow if we had to feed her on salt herring. All very well for Prince, who fights with the gulls over the last morsel. Put the cow out of your head, mother, we are very well off as we are.'

Maie sighed. She knew well that her husband was right, but she could not give up the idea of a cow. The b.u.t.termilk no longer tasted as good as usual in the coffee; she thought of sweet cream and fresh b.u.t.ter, and of how there was nothing in the world to be compared with them.

One day as Matte and his wife were cleaning herring on the sh.o.r.e they heard Prince barking, and soon there appeared a gaily painted boat with three young men in it, steering towards the rock. They were students, on a boating excursion, and wanted to get something to eat.

'Bring us a junket, good mother,' cried they to Maie.

'Ah! if only I had such a thing!' sighed Maie.

'A can of fresh milk, then,' said the students; 'but it must not be skim.'

'Yes, if only I had it!' sighed the old woman, still more deeply.

'What! haven't you got a cow?'

Maie was silent. This question so struck her to the heart that she could not reply.

'We have no cow,' Matte answered; 'but we have good smoked herring, and can cook them in a couple of hours.'

'All right, then, that will do,' said the students, as they flung themselves down on the rock, while fifty silvery-white herring were turning on the spit in front of the fire.

'What's the name of this little stone in the middle of the ocean?' asked one of them.

'Ahtola,' answered the old man.

'Well, you should want for nothing when you live in the Sea King's dominion.'

Matte did not understand. He had never read Kalevala and knew nothing of the sea G.o.ds of old, but the students proceeded to explain to him.[2]

[Footnote 2: Kalevala is a collection of old Finnish songs about G.o.ds and heroes.]

'Ahti,' said they, 'is a mighty king who lives in his dominion of Ahtola, and has a rock at the bottom of the sea, and possesses besides a treasury of good things. He rules over all fish and animals of the deep; he has the finest cows and the swiftest horses that ever chewed gra.s.s at the bottom of the ocean. He who stands well with Ahti is soon a rich man, but one must beware in dealing with him, for he is very changeful and touchy. Even a little stone thrown into the water might offend him, and then as he takes back his gift, he stirs up the sea into a storm and drags the sailors down into the depths. Ahti owns also the fairest maidens, who bear the train of his queen Wellamos, and at the sound of music they comb their long, flowing locks, which glisten in the water.'

'Oh!' cried Matte, 'have your wors.h.i.+ps really seen all that?'

'We have as good as seen it,' said the students. 'It is all printed in a book, and everything printed is true.'

'I'm not so sure of that,' said Matte, as he shook his head.

But the herring were now ready, and the students ate enough for six, and gave Prince some cold meat which they happened to have in the boat.

Prince sat on his hind legs with delight and mewed like a p.u.s.s.y cat.

When all was finished, the students handed Matte a s.h.i.+ning silver coin, and allowed him to fill his pipe with a special kind of tobacco. They then thanked him for his kind hospitality and went on their journey, much regretted by Prince, who sat with a woeful expression and whined on the sh.o.r.e as long as he could see a flip of the boat's white sail in the distance.

Maie had never uttered a word, but thought the more. She had good ears, and had laid to heart the story about Ahti. 'How delightful,' thought she to herself, 'to possess a fairy cow! How delicious every morning and evening to draw milk from it, and yet have no trouble about the feeding, and to keep a shelf near the window for dishes of milk and junkets! But this will never be my luck.'

'What are you thinking of?' asked Matte.

'Nothing,' said his wife; but all the time she was pondering over some magic rhymes she had heard in her childhood from an old lame man, which were supposed to bring luck in fis.h.i.+ng.

'What if I were to try?' thought she.

Now this was Sat.u.r.day, and on Sat.u.r.day evenings Matte never set the herring-net, for he did not fish on Sunday. Towards evening, however, his wife said:

'Let us set the herring-net just this once.'

'No,' said her husband, 'it is a Sat.u.r.day night.'

'Last night was so stormy, and we caught so little,' urged his wife; 'to-night the sea is like a mirror, and with the wind in this direction the herring are drawing towards land.'

'But there are streaks in the north-western sky, and Prince was eating gra.s.s this evening,' said the old man.

'Surely he has not eaten my garlic,' exclaimed the old woman.

'No; but there will be rough weather by to-morrow at sunset,' rejoined Matte.

'Listen to me,' said his wife, 'we will set only one net close to the sh.o.r.e, and then we shall be able to finish up our half-filled cask, which will spoil if it stands open so long.'

The old man allowed himself to be talked over, and so they rowed out with the net. When they reached the deepest part of the water, she began to hum the words of the magic rhyme, altering the words to suit the longings of her heart:

Oh, Ahti, with the long, long beard, Who dwellest in the deep blue sea, Finest treasures have I heard, And glittering fish belong to thee.

The richest pearls beyond compare Are stored up in thy realm below, And Ocean's cows so sleek and fair Feed on the gra.s.s in thy green meadow.

King of the waters, far and near, I ask not of thy golden store, I wish not jewels of pearl to wear, Nor silver either, ask I for, But one is odd and even is two, So give me a cow, sea-king so bold, And in return I'll give to you A slice of the moon, and the sun's gold.

'What's that you're humming?' asked the old man.

'Oh, only the words of an old rhyme that keeps running in my head,'

answered the old woman; and she raised her voice and went on:

Oh, Ahti, with the long, long beard, Who dwellest in the deep blue sea, A thousand cows are in thy herd, I pray thee give one unto me.

'That's a stupid sort of song,' said Matte. 'What else should one beg of the sea-king but fish? But such songs are not for Sunday.'

His wife pretended not to hear him, and sang and sang the same tune all the time they were on the water. Matte heard nothing more as he sat and rowed the heavy boat, while thinking of his cracked pipe and the fine tobacco. Then they returned to the island, and soon after went to bed.

But neither Matte nor Maie could sleep a wink; the one thought of how he had profaned Sunday, and the other of Ahti's cow.