Through Finland in Carts Part 23

CHAPTER XI

A HAUNTED CASTLE

The bells rang! It was four A.M. when the s.h.i.+p _Concordia_, which had been our home for thirty-six hours, arrived at _Nyslott_, one of the small towns which are spa.r.s.ely scattered over Finland.

_Nyslott_ is famous for two things: its very modern "bath cure"

accompanied by a "kasino"--of which French watering-places need have no jealousy--and, by way of extreme from such modernity, its other attraction is an old ruined castle, built originally in 1475. The castle is the most perfect left in Finland, and its position is certainly the most picturesque, for it stands quite alone on an island of rock, round which the current forms endless whirlpools. It is built with sharp b.u.t.tresses, and once had five towers, of which, alas, only three remain, but those three are very perfect.

What stories that castle could tell of wars and sieges, of Russian and Swedish possessors, of Catholic and Lutheran sway, and of cruelty too horrible to dwell upon, although one cannot help realising its possibilities after entering the little dark cell in which two men were built up to live together in darkness and in hunger till death ended their sufferings.

The Roman Catholic Chapel still remains; windowless, save for a small hole over the stone altar, which certainly suggests artificial light having been thrown from behind on some sacred relic or picture--a theatrical effect not unknown to that faith. Its uneven stone floor, and its niches for the sacramental cup, all remain in weird darkness to remind one of ages long gone by. In turn the Castle has been Catholic, Lutheran, and Greek--so three persuasions have had their sway, and each has left its mark.

Our thoughtful friend, Grandpapa, whom we had left a fortnight before at _Rattijarvi_, was waiting for us at _Nyslott_, or rather, a moment after the s.h.i.+p stopped at the quayside in the early dawn of morning, he arrived, accompanied by a man in a boat, one of those regular Finnish boats pointed at each end known as a _kuiru_.

"Where are we to live?" we called, over the side.

"In the Castle, as you wished," was the reply; and overjoyed at the prospect of anything so romantic, we quickly transferred ourselves and our baggage into the boat below.

"I'm very anxious about this arrangement," said our youthful old friend.

"When I arrived a fortnight ago, and found there was not a room to be had in the town, I was in despair; after wandering from house to house, again I beseeched the little hotel to take me in; but even their sofas were occupied. However, determining not to leave _Nyslott_ till I had seen the famous castle, I got a boat and rowed across. _Veni, vidi, vici_--for I persuaded the watchman to put me up for the night, and there I am still. When, yesterday, I could find no habitation for you, I reluctantly telegraphed that the town was full and I was only put up by the _Vahtimestari_ of the Castle. Imagine my horror when I got your reply--'_Arrive_ 4 A.M., _arrange stay Castle_.'"

"Were you so very much horrified?" we laughed. "We thought it would be such fun, and so delightfully romantic."

"It was no fun to me. I felt utterly taken aback, and went off to consult an artist friend, who was painting the queer old place.

"'Nonsense, my dear fellow,' he said, 'you can't lodge ladies in this barrack. It's all very well for two watchmen, or for you, if you like, to rough it--but for women--nonsense, it is impossible.'

"'But,' I remarked, 'they are very enterprising, and one of them, who is writing a book, loves queer corners, odd experiences, and native life.'

"'I daresay,' replied he, 'but this Castle, I repeat, is impossible, especially for Englishwomen, who are all accustomed to much luxury.'

"Back into the town I went again to try for rooms, but without success.

What was to be done? You were on the way, time was growing short, and I had arranged nothing. So once more to my watchman I returned and told him my awful dilemma, and the depths of my despair. He so thoroughly entered into the spirit of the thing, that he promised to do the best he could, and in an hour's time he had arranged for extra towels and a few necessaries to be sent over from the town."

"Delightful!" we exclaimed; "what a dear man! It is like a romance in a story book."

"But my story is not finished," Grandpapa replied, with a rueful face; "we had set to work to sweep, and brush, and clean with a will, in order to make the room more worthy of its occupants, when the _Vahtimestari_ suddenly said--

"'I'm afraid, after all, you will have to go and get permission from the Mayor, or I may get into trouble for allowing ladies to sleep in this ruined Castle.'"

Here was an adventure. Our hearts quailed a little as we waited breathlessly for the finish of the story.

"I got into the boat," went on our friend, "pulled on sh.o.r.e, and set off to the Mayor, in order to obtain permission for you to sleep there. At first he sternly refused.

"'Ridiculous!' he said, 'bats and owls, goblins and ghosts! that is not a fit home for ladies--ridiculous, and quite impossible.'

"I explained and argued, told him how enterprising you were, and how well versed in travel, and at last he gave in, saying, 'Well, the old Castle has withstood many sieges, and it is hard it must give in without powder or shot to two Englishwomen.'

"Thus his reluctant permission was granted, and away I came triumphant.

You are to have the watchmen's room, they the kitchen, and I am to sleep in the Lutheran Church, which chances to have a roof."

We were delighted, and at once started for our haunted Castle. We rowed away to our island home, and, when we appreciated the difficulty of steering through the fast-running whirlpool, to the only gate with its fine portcullis, we realised we were indeed on adventure bent.

It was barely dawn, and as we swept over the seething waters, and stood under the ancient archway, we felt like Mary Queen of Scots before the gates of Fotheringay.

We were indeed triumphantly triumphant. Far from the whistle of a train, right in the interior of Finland, standing beneath the portals of a famous castle virtually ruined and uninhabited--we felt at home.

The streaks of early morning sunlight lent enchantment to the romantic surroundings, as we wandered along queer pa.s.sages, where the walls varied from five to fifteen feet thick, peeped into cellars and dungeons, and bending our heads under Norman arches, at last entered the first courtyard. We saw mysterious winding staircases, generally spiral, leading up and down into deep dark mystery. Certainly so far the ruins did not look as though they would protect any one from wind and rain, and we pa.s.sed on, through walls that seemed impregnable, to ruined chambers, utterly roofless, in and out of which pigeons were flying happily at their sweet will.

The second courtyard was gravelled; but round its sides tangled beds of syringa in full flower, red and black currants nearly ripe, pretty wild roses and lilac almost looked homely, while white and yellow marguerites shadowed dear little wild strawberries, and a general air of naturalness prevailed. We had reached the very centre of our enchanted castle! How often had this courtyard been the scene of revelry, of tournaments and joustings, at which lovely woman had smiled and distributed her favours from the surrounding battlements.

"There is your room," exclaimed Grandpapa at last, pointing to a modern little bit of building erected for the custodian's use, in which, sure enough, was a real gla.s.s window.

Up the modern steps we mounted, to find a nice big room, poorly furnished, 'tis true, with one bed and a garden seat, two wooden chairs and a long wooden school bench, a table on which stood a brown earthenware bowl, and a large gla.s.s water carafe, that gla.s.s bottle which had haunted us since we set foot in Finland. The bench was to do duty for washstand and the impedimenta thereto. The wooden floor was delightfully scrubbed, and what mattered the simplicity when all was so delightfully clean!

Lo and behold, a bouquet of flowers stood in a tumbler on the table, the votive offering of the Finnish custodian himself; a charming welcome to his English visitors.

Out of this large bare chamber led a dear little kitchen, and farther along a pa.s.sage and up some stairs we came to the old church--capable of seating a couple of hundred persons, although it did not really possess a single seat--which was to serve as Grandpapa's bedroom.

Churches invariably do service for sleepers even to-day in Iceland, where hotels are practically non-existent, except in two or three instances, and even habitations are few and far between.[C]

So this was to be for a brief s.p.a.ce our home; a real, wild, weird, romantic home, seated on its rocky island away from the world, away from every sign of life save pigeons or bats; full of grim spirits--if tradition were to be believed--and nightly walked by strange women and blood-stained men--for stories there are in plenty concerning the great Castle of _Olavin Linna_ as the Finns call it, at _Savonlinna_, the Finnish name for _Nyslott_.

We wandered everywhere: we peered into all the mysteries. Verily a ruin.

Mounting to an upper floor by the solid stone steps outside, we found ourselves in another chamber, the roof of which was supported by rafters, through the thick walls of which a long dark pa.s.sage led us round two sides of the courtyard, pa.s.sing a small tower by the way from which we could see yet another court, whose wide gra.s.s-grown ramparts overhung the rapidly-flowing current of the lake.

Here was the hall of the knights, a long and dark chamber--so dark, in fact, that we wondered how any one had ever been able to see clearly in it. On all sides were rooms and pitch-black dungeons, for at the time the Castle was built (1475) the powers-that-were thought nothing of shutting people up in dark little holes, where they left them to die, and the _Olavin Linna_ seems to have been particularly rich in such choice chambers. From where we stood, a few steps up a winding staircase led us to a big tower containing a large round room, called the ladies'

drawing-room. The dames of that period certainly had a glorious view all round for miles and miles, although they were far removed from the life going on below. From this point of vantage we saw how the Castle literally covered the whole of the rock, and occupied a most commanding position where three lakes met. As we wandered down again, we chanced into a queer sort of chamber, wherein half a dozen weird straggling trees struggled to exist. It was almost dark; the storms of winter could rustle through those blank windows, and the trees were white, and gray, and sickly--more like phantoms than real trees--so queer and withered and pale and anaemic were their leaves, and yet they stood eight or ten feet high, showing they had boldly struggled for life.

After having thus gained a general idea, s.n.a.t.c.hed a sort of bird's-eye view of this strange Castle, we returned to our room and investigated its capabilities.

There was _one_ small bed, already honourably mentioned, and a garden seat--one of those well-known benches made of thin wooden laths, with a rounded uncomfortable seat and back.

"Could we manage with such meagre accommodation?" Grandpapa asked timorously, "or must another bed be hired; that is to say, if another bed can be hired, or bought, in a town already overcrowded."

We looked at our friend's troubled face, and, feeling we had already caused him a sad amount of inconvenience, valiantly replied, "We will manage." And manage we did.

To the "elderly scribe" was allotted the bed, a very finely carved wooden erection; but let me at once own that, although I had slept on hay in a tent in other lands, pa.s.sed a night on a dining-room table, several on the floor, and in deck-chairs, I never slept in anything quite so "k.n.o.bby" as that extraordinary bed. A lump here, and a lump there, always seemed to select the most inconvenient part of one's frame to stick in, and sometimes getting on a nerve quite numbed the spot.

After the first night I asked the _Vahtimestari_ to turn and knead the mattress, which he cheerfully promised to do, and no doubt did. But all his turning and pounding was perfectly useless, so after a second restless night, which left me beautifully black and blue from head to foot, I determined to investigate the mysteries of that bed for myself.

When I removed the under-sheet a bewildering problem was solved. On the top of the mattress lay an enormous coat, lined throughout with black sheepskin. Its double-rolled collar had made a huge ridge down the middle of my back, across which a thick waist-belt had not unsuccessfully tried to form a bridge--the sleeves could only be accounted mountains, while innumerable b.u.t.tons had left their impress on every inch of my body! I felt very sorry for my flesh that morning!

Four nights pa.s.sed on a hard garden seat does not sound entrancing; nevertheless, on such a non-captivating couch, my sister, helped by rugs and a pillow, slept the sleep of the just, and of youth.

Her "plank bed" may have been--nay, certainly must have been--hard, and the Castle certainly was primitive, but everything, bedding included, was spotlessly clean, and, after all, cleanliness and a quiet conscience compensate for much--anyhow she slept; that is a fact for which I can vouch.