They both met together upon Nottingham bridge
There were two men of Gotham, and one of them was going to market to Nottingham to buy sheep, and the other came from the market, and they both met together upon Nottingham bridge.
"Where are you going?" said the one who came from Nottingham.
"Marry," said he that was going to Nottingham, "I am going to buy sheep."
"Buy sheep?" said the other; "and which way will you bring them home?"
"Marry," said the other, "I will bring them over this bridge."
"By Robin Hood," said he that came from Nottingham, "but thou shalt not."
"By Maid Marion," said he that was going thither, "but I will."
"You will not," said the one.
"I will."
Then they beat their staves against the ground, one against the other, as if there had been a hundred sheep between them.
"Hold in," said one; "beware lest my sheep leap over the bridge."
"I care not," said the other; "they shall not come this way."
"But they shall," said the other.
Then the other said, "If that thou make much to do, I will put my fingers in thy mouth."
"Will you?" said the other.
Now, as they were at their contention, another man of Gotham came from the market with a sack of meal upon a horse, and seeing and hearing his neighbours at strife about sheep, though there were none between them, said:
"Ah, fools! will you ever learn wisdom? Help me, and lay my sack upon my shoulders."
They did so, and he went to the side of the bridge, unloosened the mouth of the sack, and shook all his meal out into the river.
"Now, neighbours," he said, "how much meal is there in my sack?"
"Marry," said they, "there is none at all."
"Now, by my faith," said he, "even as much wit as is in your two heads to stir up strife about a thing you have not."
Which was the wisest of these three persons, judge yourself.
A vengeance on her! said they. We did not make our hedge high enough
Once upon a time the men of Gotham would have kept the Cuckoo so that she might sing all the year, and in the midst of their town they made a hedge round in compass and they got a Cuckoo, and put her into it, and said, "Sing there all through the year, or thou shalt have neither meat nor water." The Cuckoo, as soon as she perceived herself within the hedge, flew away. "A vengeance on her!" said they. "We did not make our hedge high enough."
He took out the cheeses and rolled them down the hill
There was a man of Gotham who went to the market at Nottingham to sell cheese, and as he was going down the hill to Nottingham bridge, one of his cheeses fell out of his wallet and rolled down the hill. "Ah, gaffer," said the fellow, "can you run to market alone? I will send one after another after you." Then he laid down his wallet and took out the cheeses and rolled them down the hill. Some went into one bush, and some went into another.
"I charge you all to meet me near the market-place," cried he; and when the fellow came to the market to meet his cheeses, he stayed there till the market was nearly done. Then he went about to inquire of his friends and neighbours, and other men, if they did see his cheeses come to the market.
"Who should bring them?" said one of the market men.
"Marry, themselves," said the fellow; "they know the way well enough."
He said, "A vengeance on them all. I did fear, to see them run so fast, that they would run beyond the market. I am now fully persuaded that they must be now almost at York." Whereupon he forthwith hired a horse to ride to York, to seek his cheeses where they were not; but to this day no man can tell him of his cheeses.
And they left the eel to drown
When Good Friday came, the men of Gotham cast their heads together what to do with their white herrings, their red herrings, their sprats, and other salt fish. One consultedwith the other, and agreed that such fish should be cast into their pond (which was in the middle of the town), that they might breed against the next year, and every man that had salt fish left cast them into the pool.
"I have many white herrings," said one.
"I have many sprats," said another.
"I have many red herrings," said the other.
"I have much salt fish. Let all go into the pond or pool, and we shall fare like lords next year."
At the beginning of next year following the men drew near the pond to have their fish, and there was nothing but a great eel. "Ah," said they all, "a mischief on this eel, for he has eaten up all our fish."
"What shall we do to him?" said one to the other.
"Kill him," said one.
"Chop him into pieces," said another.
"Not so," said another; "let us drown him."
"Be it so," said all. And they went to another pond, and cast the eel into the pond. "Lie there and shift for yourself, for no help thou shalt have from us"; and they left the eel to drown.
The hare ran on along the country way
Once on a time the men of Gotham had forgotten to pay their landlord. One said to the other, "To-morrow is our pay-day, and what shall we find to send our money to our landlord?"
The one said, "This day I have caught a hare, and he shall carry it, for he is light of foot."
"Be it so," said all; "he shall have a letter and a purse to put our money in, and we shall direct him the right way." So when the letters were written and the money put in a purse, they tied it round the hare's neck, saying, "First you go to Lancaster, then thou must go to Loughborough, and Newarke is our landlord, and commend us to him, and there is his dues."
The hare, as soon as he was out of their hands, ran on along the country way. Some cried, "Thou must go to Lancaster first."
"Let the hare alone," said another; "he can tell a nearer way than the best of us all. Let him go."
Another said, "It is a subtle hare; let her alone; she will not keep the highway for fear of dogs."
A courtier came riding by, and he did ask what they were seeking
On a certain time there were twelve men of Gotham who went fishing, and some went into the water and some on dry ground; and, as they were coming back, one of them said, "We have ventured much this day wading; I pray God that none of us that did come from home be drowned."
"Marry," said one, "let us see about that. Twelve of us came out." And every man did count eleven, and the twelfth man did never count himself.
"Alas!" said one to another, "one of us is drowned." They went back to the brook where they had been fishing, and looked up and down for him that was drowned, and made great lamentation. A courtier came riding by, and he did ask what they were seeking, and why they were so sorrowful. "Oh," said they, "this day we came to fish in this brook, and there were twelve of us, and one is drowned."
"Why," said the courtier, "count me how many of you there be"; and one counted eleven and did not count himself."Well," said the courtier, "what will you give me if I find the twelfth man?"
"Sir," said they, "all the money we have."
"Give me the money," said the courtier; and he began with the first, and gave him a whack over the shoulders that he groaned, and said, "There is one," and he served all of them that they groaned; but when he came to the last he gave him a good blow, saying, "Here is the twelfth man."
"God bless you on your heart," said all the company; "you have found our neighbour."
Once upon a time, a long, long while ago, when all the world was young and all sorts of strange things happened, there lived a very rich gentleman whose wife had died leaving him three lovely daughters. They were as the apple of his eye, and he loved them exceedingly.
Now one day he wanted to find out if they loved him in return, so he said to the eldest, "How much do you love me, my dear?"
And she answered as pat as may be, "As I love my life."
"Very good, my dear," said he, and gave her a kiss. Then he said to the second girl, "How much do you love me, my dear?"
And she answered as swift as thought, "Better than all the world beside."
"Good!" he replied, and patted her on the cheek. Then he turned to the youngest, who was also the prettiest.
"And how much doyoulove me, my dearest?"
Now the youngest daughter was not only pretty, she was clever. So she thought a moment, then she said slowly:
"I love you as fresh meat loves salt!"
Now when her father heard this he was very angry, because he really loved her more than the others.
"What!" he said. "If that is all you give me in return for all I've given you, out of my house you go." So there and then he turned her out of the home where she had been born and bred, and shut the door in her face.
Not knowing where to go, she wandered on, and she wandered on, till she came to a big fen where the reeds grew ever so tall and the rushes swayed in the wind like a field of corn. There she sate down and plaited herself an overall of rushes and a cap to match, so as to hide her fine clothes, and her beautiful golden hair that was all set with milk-white pearls. For she was a wise girl, and thought that in such lonely country, mayhap, some robber might fall in with her and kill her to get her fine clothes and jewels.
It took a long time to plait the dress and cap, and while she plaited she sang a little song:
"Hide my hair, O cap o' rushes,Hide my heart, O robe o' rushes.Sure! my answer had no fault,I love him more than he loves salt."
And the fen birds sate and listened and sang back to her:
"Cap o' rushes, shed no tear,Robe o' rushes, have no fear;With these words if fault he'd find,Sure your father must be blind."
When her task was finished she put on her robe of rushes and it hid all her fine clothes, and she put on the cap and it hid all her beautiful hair, so that she looked quite a common country girl. But the fen birds flew away, singing as they flew:
"Cap-o-rushes! we can see,Robe o' rushes! what you be,Fair and clean, and fine and tidy,So you'll be whate'er betide ye."
By this time she was very, very hungry, so she wandered on, and she wandered on; but ne'er a cottage or a hamlet did she see, till just at sun-setting she came on a great house on the edge of the fen. It had a fine front door to it; but mindful of her dress of rushes she went round to the back. And there she saw a strapping fat scullion washing pots and pans with a very sulky face. So, being a clever girl, she guessed what the maid was wanting, and said:
"If I may have a night's lodging, I will scrub the pots and pans for you."
"Why! Here's luck," replied the scullery-maid, ever so pleased. "I was just wanting badly to go a-walking with my sweetheart. So if you will do my work you shall share my bed and have a bite of my supper. Only mind you scrub the pots clean or cook will be at me."
Now next morning the pots were scraped so clean that they looked like new, and the saucepans were polished like silver, and the cook said to the scullion, "Who cleaned these pots? Not you, I'll swear." So the maid had to up and outwith the truth. Then the cook would have turned away the old maid and put on the new, but the latter would not hear of it.
"The maid was kind to me and gave me a night's lodging," she said. "So now I will stay without wage and do the dirty work for her."
So Caporushes—for so they called her since she would give no other name—stayed on and cleaned the pots and scraped the saucepans.
Now it so happened that her master's son came of age, and to celebrate the occasion a ball was given to the neighbourhood, for the young man was a grand dancer, and loved nothing so well as a country measure. It was a very fine party, and after supper was served, the servants were allowed to go and watch the quality from the gallery of the ball-room.
But Caporushes refused to go, for she also was a grand dancer, and she was afraid that when she heard the fiddles starting a merry jig, she might start dancing. So she excused herself by saying she was too tired with scraping pots and washing saucepans; and when the others went off, she crept up to her bed.
But alas! and alack-a-day! The door had been left open, and as she lay in her bed she could hear the fiddlers fiddling away and the tramp of dancing feet.
Then she upped and off with her cap and robe of rushes, and there she was ever so fine and tidy. She was in the ball-room in a trice joining in the jig, and none was morebeautiful or better dressed than she. While as for her dancing...!
Her master's son singled her out at once, and with the finest of bows engaged her as his partner for the rest of the night. So she danced away to her heart's content, while the whole room was agog, trying to find out who the beautiful young stranger could be. But she kept her own counsel and, making some excuse, slipped away before the ball finished; so when her fellow-servants came to bed, there she was in hers in her cap and robe of rushes, pretending to be fast asleep.
Next morning, however, the maids could talk of nothing but the beautiful stranger.
"You should ha' seen her," they said. "She was the loveliest young lady as ever you see, not a bit like the likes o' we. Her golden hair was all silvered wi' pearls, and her dress—law! You wouldn't believe how she was dressed. Young master never took his eyes off her."
And Caporushes only smiled and said, with a twinkle in her eye, "I should like to see her, but I don't think I ever shall."
"Oh yes, you will," they replied, "for young master has ordered another ball to-night in hopes she will come to dance again."
But that evening Caporushes refused once more to go to the gallery, saying she was too tired with cleaning pots and scraping saucepans. And once more when she heard the fiddlers fiddling she said to herself, "I must have one dance—just one with the young master: he dances so beautifully." For she felt certain he would dance with her.
And sure enough, when she had upped and offed with her cap and robe of rushes, there he was at the door waiting for her to come; for he had determined to dance with no one else.
So he took her by the hand, and they danced down the ball-room. It was a sight of all sights! Never were such dancers! So young, so handsome, so fine, so gay!
But once again Caporushes kept her own counsel and just slipped away on some excuse in time, so that when her fellow-servants came to their beds they found her in hers, pretending to be fast asleep; but her cheeks were all flushed and her breath came fast. So they said, "She is dreaming. We hope her dreams are happy."
But next morning they were full of what she had missed. Never was such a beautiful young gentleman as young master! Never was such a beautiful young lady! Never was such beautiful dancing! Every one else had stopped theirs to look on.
And Caporushes, with a twinkle in her eyes, said, "I should like to see her; but I'msureI never shall!"
"Oh yes!" they replied. "If you come to-night you're sure to see her; for young master has ordered another ball in hopes the beautiful stranger will come again; for it's easy to see he is madly in love with her."
Then Caporushes told herself she would not dance again, since it was not fit for a gay young master to be in love with his scullery-maid; but, alas! the moment she heard thefiddlers fiddling, she just upped and offed with her rushes, and there she was fine and tidy as ever! She didn't even have to brush her beautiful golden hair! And once again she was in the ball-room in a trice, dancing away with young master, who never took his eyes off her, and implored her to tell him who she was. But she kept her own counsel and only told him that she never, never, never would come to dance any more, and that he must say good-bye. And he held her hand so fast that she had a job to get away, and lo and behold! his ring came off his finger, and as she ran up to her bed there it was in her hand! She had just time to put on her cap and robe of rushes, when her fellow-servants came trooping in and found her awake.
"It was the noise you made coming upstairs," she made excuse; but they said, "Not we! It is the whole place that is in an uproar searching for the beautiful stranger. Young master he tried to detain her; but she slipped from him like an eel. But he declares he will find her; for if he doesn't he will die of love for her."
Then Caporushes laughed. "Young men don't die of love," says she. "He will find some one else."
But he didn't. He spent his whole time looking for his beautiful dancer, but go where he might, and ask whom he would, he never heard anything about her. And day by day he grew thinner and thinner, and paler and paler, until at last he took to his bed.
And the housekeeper came to the cook and said, "Cook the nicest dinner you can cook, for young master eats nothing."
Then the cook prepared soups, and jellies, and creams, and roast chicken, and bread sauce; but the young man would none of them.
And Caporushes cleaned the pots and scraped the saucepans and said nothing.
Then the housekeeper came crying and said to the cook, "Prepare some gruel for young master. Mayhap he'd take that. If not he will die for love of the beautiful dancer. If she could see him now she would have pity on him."
So the cook began to make the gruel, and Caporushes left scraping saucepans and watched her.
"Let me stir it," she said, "while you fetch a cup from the pantry-room."
So Caporushes stirred the gruel, and what did she do but slips young master's ring into it before the cook came back!
Then the butler took the cup upstairs on a silver salver. But when the young master saw it he waved it away, till the butler with tears begged him just to taste it.
So the young master took a silver spoon and stirred the gruel; and he felt something hard at the bottom of the cup. And when he fished it up, lo! it was his own ring! Then he sate up in bed and said quite loud, "Send for the cook!" And when she came he asked her who made the gruel.
"I did," she said, for she was half-pleased and half-frightened.
Then he looked at her all over and said, "No, you didn't! You're too stout! Tell me who made it and you shan't be harmed!"
Then the cook began to cry. "If you please, sir, Ididmake it; but Caporushes stirred it."
"And who is Caporushes?" asked the young man.
"If you please, sir, Caporushes is the scullion," whimpered the cook.
Then the young man sighed and fell back on his pillow. "Send Caporushes here," he said in a faint voice; for he really was very near dying.
And when Caporushes came he just looked at her cap and her robe of rushes and turned his face to the wall; but he asked her in a weak little voice, "From whom did you get that ring?"
Now when Caporushes saw the poor young man so weak and worn with love for her, her heart melted, and she replied softly:
"From him that gave it me," quoth she, and offed with her cap and robe of rushes, and there she was as fine and tidy as ever with her beautiful golden hair all silvered over with pearls.
And the young man caught sight of her with the tail of his eye, and sate up in bed as strong as may be, and drew her to him and gave her a great big kiss.
So, of course, they were to be married in spite of her being only a scullery-maid, for she told no one who she was. Now every one far and near was asked to the wedding. Amongst the invited guests was Caporushes' father, who, from grief at losing his favourite daughter, had lost his sight, and was very dull and miserable. However, as a friend of the family, he had to come to the young master's wedding.
Now the marriage feast was to be the finest ever seen; but Caporushes went to her friend the cook and said:
"Dress every dish without one mite of salt."
"That'll be rare and nasty," replied the cook; but because she prided herself on having let Caporushes stir the gruel and so saved the young master's life, she did as she was asked, and dressed every dish for the wedding breakfast without one mite of salt.
Now when the company sate down to table their faces were full of smiles and content, for all the dishes looked so nice and tasty; but no sooner had the guests begun to eat than their faces fell; for nothing can be tasty without salt.
Then Caporushes' blind father, whom his daughter had seated next to her, burst out crying.
"What is the matter?" she asked.
Then the old man sobbed, "I had a daughter whom I loved dearly, dearly. And I asked her how much she loved me, and she replied, 'As fresh meat loves salt.' And I was angry with her and turned her out of house and home, for I thought she didn't love me at all. But now I see she loved me best of all."
And as he said the words his eyes were opened, and there beside him was his daughter lovelier than ever.
And she gave him one hand, and her husband, the young master, the other, and laughed saying, "I love you both as fresh meat loves salt." And after that they were all happy for evermore.
She sate down and plaited herself an overall of rushes and a cap to match.
Now ponder well, you parents dear,These words which I shall write;A doleful story you shall hear,In time brought forth to light.A gentleman of good accountIn Norfolk dwelt of late,Who did in honour far surmountMost men of his estate.Sore sick he was and like to die,No help his life could save;His wife by him as sick did lie,And both possest one grave.No love between these two was lost,Each was to other kind;In love they lived, in love they died,And left two babes behind:The one a fine and pretty boyNot passing three years old,The other a girl more young than he,And framed in beauty's mould.The father left his little son,As plainly did appear,When he to perfect age should come,Three hundred pounds a year;And to his little daughter JaneFive hundred pounds in gold,To be paid down on marriage-day,Which might not be controlled.But if the children chanced to dieEre they to age should come,Their uncle should possess their wealth;For so the will did run."Now, brother," said the dying man,"Look to my children dear;Be good unto my boy and girl,No friends else have they here;To God and you I recommendMy children dear this day;But little while be sure we haveWithin this world to stay."You must be father and mother both,And uncle, all in one;God knows what will become of themWhen I am dead and gone."With that bespake their mother dear:"O brother kind," quoth she,"You are the man must bring our babesTo wealth or misery."And if you keep them carefully,Then God will you reward;But if you otherwise should deal,God will your deeds regard."With lips as cold as any stone,They kissed their children small:"God bless you both, my children dear!"With that the tears did fall.These speeches then their brother spakeTo this sick couple there:"The keeping of your little ones,Sweet sister, do not fear;God never prosper me nor mine,Nor aught else that I have,If I do wrong your children dearWhen you are laid in grave!"The parents being dead and gone,The children home he takes,And brings them straight unto his house,Where much of them he makes.He had not kept these pretty babesA twelvemonth and a day,But, for their wealth, he did deviseTo make them both away.He bargained with two ruffians strong,Which were of furious mood,That they should take these children young.And slay them in a wood.He told his wife an artful taleHe would the children sendTo be brought up in London townWith one that was his friend.Away then went those pretty babes,Rejoicing at that tide,Rejoicing with a merry mindThey should on cock-horse ride.They prate and prattle pleasantly,As they ride on the way,To those that should their butchers beAnd work their lives' decay:So that the pretty speech they hadMade Murder's heart relent;And they that undertook the deedFull sore now did repent.Yet one of them, more hard of heart,Did vow to do his charge,Because the wretch that hired himHad paid him very large.The other won't agree thereto,So there they fall to strife;With one another they did fightAbout the children's life;And he that was of mildest moodDid slay the other there,Within an unfrequented wood;The babes did quake for fear!He took the children by the hand,Tears standing in their eye,And bade them straightway follow him,And look they did not cry;And two long miles he led them on,While they for food complain:"Stay here," quoth he, "I'll bring you bread,When I come back again."These pretty babes, with hand in hand,Went wandering up and down;But never more could see the manApproaching from the town.Their pretty lips with blackberriesWere all besmeared and dyed;And when they saw the darksome night,They sat them down and cried.Thus wandered these poor innocents,Till death did end their grief;In one another's arms they died,As wanting due relief:No burial this pretty pairFrom any man receives,Till Robin Redbreast piouslyDid cover them with leaves.And now the heavy wrath of GodUpon their uncle fell;Yea, fearful fiends did haunt his house,His conscience felt an hell:His barns were fired, his goods consumed,His lands were barren made,His cattle died within the field,And nothing with him stayed.And in a voyage to PortugalTwo of his sons did die;And to conclude, himself was broughtTo want and misery:He pawned and mortgaged all his landEre seven years came about.And now at last this wicked actDid by this means come out.The fellow that did take in handThese children for to kill,Was for a robbery judged to die,Such was God's blessed will:Who did confess the very truth,As here hath been displayed:The uncle having died in jail,Where he for debt was laid.You that executors be made,And overseers eke,Of children that be fatherless,And infants mild and meek,Take you example by this thing,And yield to each his right,Lest God with suchlike miseryYour wicked minds requite.
There was once a widow that lived on a small bit of ground, which she rented from a farmer. And she had two sons; and by and by it was time for the wife to send them away to seek their fortune. So she told her eldest son one day to take a can and bring her water from the well, that she might bake a cake for him; and however much or however little water he might bring, the cake would be great or small accordingly, and that cake was to be all that she could give him when he went on his travels.
The lad went away with the can to the well, and filled it with water, and then came away home again; but the can being broken, the most part of the water had run out before he got back. So his cake was very small; yet small as it was, his mother asked him if he was willing to take the half of it with her blessing, telling him that, if he chose rather to take the whole, he would only get it with her curse. The young man, thinking he might have to travel a far way, and not knowing when or how he might get other provisions, said he would like to have the whole cake, come of his mother'smalison what might; so she gave him the whole cake, and her malison along with it. Then he took his brother aside, and gave him a knife to keep till he should come back, desiring him to look at it every morning, and as long as it continued to be clear, then he might be sure that the owner of it was well; but if it grew dim and rusty, then for certain some ill had befallen him.
So the young man went to seek his fortune. And he went all that day, and all the next day; and on the third day, in the afternoon, he came up to where a shepherd was sitting with a flock of sheep. And he went up to the shepherd and asked him to whom the sheep belonged; and he answered:
"To the Red Ettin of IrelandWho lives in Ballygan,He stole King Malcolm's daughter,The king of fair Scotland.He beats her, he binds her,He lays her on a hand;And every day he strikes herWith a bright silver wand.'Tis said there's one predestinateTo be his mortal foe;But sure that man is yet unborn,And long may it be so!"
After this the shepherd told him to beware of the beasts he should next meet, for they were of a very different kind from any he had yet seen.
So the young man went on, and by and by he saw a multitude of very dreadful, terrible, horrible beasts, with twoheads, and on every head four horns! And he was sore frightened, and ran away from them as fast as he could; and glad was he when he came to a castle that stood on a hillock, with the door standing wide open to the wall. And he went in to the castle for shelter, and there he saw an old wife sitting beside the kitchen fire. He asked the wife if he might stay for the night, as he was tired with a long journey; and the wife said he might, but it was not a good place for him to be in, as it belonged to the Red Ettin, who was a very terrible monster with three heads, who spared no living man it could get hold of. The young man would have gone away, but he was afraid of the two-headed four-horned beasts outside; so he beseeched the old woman to hide him as best she could, and not tell the Ettin he was there. He thought, if he could put over the night, he might get away in the morning, without meeting with the dreadful, terrible, horrible beasts, and so escape.
But he had not been long in his hiding-hole, before the awful Ettin came in; and no sooner was he in, than he was heard crying:
"Snouk but! and snouk ben!I find the smell of an earthly man;Be he living, or be he dead,His heart this night shall kitchen my bread."
Well, the monster began to search about, and he soon found the poor young man, and pulled him from his hiding-place. And when he had got him out, he told him that if he could answer him three questions his life should be spared.
So the first head asked: "A thing without an end; what's that?"
But the young man knew not.
Then the second head said: "The smaller the more dangerous; what's that?"
But the young man knew not.
And then the third head asked: "The dead carrying the living? riddle me that."
But the young man knew not.
So the lad not being able to answer one of these questions, the Red Ettin took a mallet from behind the door, knocked him on the head, and turned him into a pillar of stone.
Now on the morning after this happened the younger brother took out the knife to look at it, and he was grieved to find it all brown with rust. So he told his mother that the time was now come for him to go away upon his travels also. At first she refused to let him go; but at last she requested him to take the can to the well for water, that she might make a cake for him. So he went, but as he was bringing home the water, a raven over his head cried to him to look, and he would see that the water was running out. Now being a young man of sense, and seeing the water running out, he took some clay and patched up the holes, so that he brought home enough water to bake a large cake. And when his mother put it to him to take the half cake with her blessing, he took it instead of having the whole with her malison.
So he went away on his journey with his mother's blessing.Now after he had travelled a far way, he met with an old woman who asked him if he would give her a bit of his cake. And he said, "I will gladly do that"; so he gave her a piece of the cake. Then the old woman, who was a fairy, gave him a magic wand, that might yet be of service to him, if he took care to use it rightly; and she told him a great deal that would happen to him, and what he ought to do in all circumstances; and after that, she vanished in an instant, out of his sight. Then he went on his way until he came up to the old man who was herding the sheep; and when he asked him to whom the sheep belonged, the answer was:
"To the Red Ettin of IrelandWho lives in Ballygan,He stole King Malcolm's daughter,The king of fair Scotland.He beats her, he binds her,He lays her on a band;And every day he strikes herWith a bright silver wand.But now I fear his end is near,And death is close at hand;For you're to be, I plainly see,The heir of all his land."
So the younger brother went on his way; but when he came to the place where the dreadful, terrible, horrible beasts were standing, he did not stop nor run away, but went boldly through amongst them. One came up roaring with open mouth to devour him, when he struck it with his wand, and laid it in an instant dead at his feet. He soon came to theEttin's castle, where he found the door shut, but he knocked boldly, and was admitted. Then the old woman who sat by the fire warned him of the terrible Ettin, and what had been the fate of his brother; but he was not to be daunted, and would not even hide.
Then by and by the monster came in, crying as before:
"Snouk but! and snouk ben!I find the smell of an earthly man;Be he living, or be he dead,His heart this night shall kitchen my bread."
Well, he quickly espied the young man, and bade him stand forth on the floor, and told him that if he could answer three questions his life would be spared.
So the first head asked: "What's the thing without an end?"
Now the younger brother had been told by the fairy to whom he had given a piece of his cake what he ought to say; so he answered:
"A bowl."
Then the first head frowned, but the second head asked:
"The smaller the more dangerous; what's that?"
"A bridge," says the younger brother, quite fast.
Then the first and the second heads frowned, but the third head asked:
"When does the dead carry the living? riddle me that."
At this the young man answered up at once and said:
"When a ship sails on the sea with men inside her."
When the Red Ettin found all his riddles answered, heknew that his power was gone, so he tried to escape, but the young man took up an axe and hewed off the monster's three heads. Then he asked the old woman to show him where the king's daughter lay; and the old woman took him upstairs, and opened a great many doors, and out of every door came a beautiful lady who had been imprisoned there by the Red Ettin; and last of all the ladies was the king's daughter. Then the old woman took him down into a low room, and there stood a stone pillar; but he had only to touch it with his wand, and his brother started into life.
So the whole of the prisoners were overjoyed at their deliverance, for which they thanked the younger brother again and again. Next day they all set out for the king's court, and a gallant company they made. Then the king married his daughter to the young man who had delivered her, and gave a noble's daughter to his brother.
So they all lived happily all the rest of their days.
Once upon a time there lived a Baron who was a great magician, and could tell by his arts and charms everything that was going to happen at any time.
Now this great lord had a little son born to him as heir to all his castles and lands. So, when the little lad was about four years old, wishing to know what his fortune would be, the Baron looked in his Book of Fate to see what it foretold.
And, lo and behold! it was written that this much-loved, much-prized heir to all the great lands and castles was to marry a low-born maiden. So the Baron was dismayed, and set to work by more arts and charms to discover if this maiden were already born, and if so, where she lived.
And he found out that she had just been born in a very poor house, where the poor parents were already burdened with five children.
So he called for his horse and rode away, and away, until he came to the poor man's house, and there he found the poor man sitting at his doorstep very sad and doleful.
"What is the matter, my friend?" asked he; and the poor man replied:
"May it please your honour, a little lass has just been born to our house; and we have five children already, and where the bread is to come from to fill the sixth mouth, we know not."
"If that be all your trouble," quoth the Baron readily, "mayhap I can help you: so don't be down-hearted. I am just looking for such a little lass to companion my son, so, if you will, I will give you ten crowns for her."
Well! the man he nigh jumped for joy, since he was to get good money, and his daughter, so he thought, a good home. Therefore he brought out the child then and there, and the Baron, wrapping the babe in his cloak, rode away. But when he got to the river he flung the little thing into the swollen stream, and said to himself as he galloped back to his castle:
"There goes Fate!"
But, you see, he was just sore mistaken. For the little lass didn't sink. The stream was very swift, and her long clothes kept her up till she caught in a snag just opposite a fisherman, who was mending his nets.
Now the fisherman and his wife had no children, and they were just longing for a baby; so when the goodman saw the little lass he was overcome with joy, and took her home to his wife, who received her with open arms.
And there she grew up, the apple of their eyes, into the most beautiful maiden that ever was seen.
Now, when she was about fifteen years of age, it so happened that the Baron and his friends went a-huntingalong the banks of the river and stopped to get a drink of water at the fisherman's hut. And who should bring the water out but, as they thought, the fisherman's daughter.
Now the young men of the party noticed her beauty, and one of them said to the Baron, "She should marry well; read us her fate, since you are so learned in the art."
Then the Baron, scarce looking at her, said carelessly: "I could guess her fate! Some wretched yokel or other. But, to please you, I will cast her horoscope by the stars; so tell me, girl, what day you were born?"
"That I cannot tell, sir," replied the girl, "for I was picked up in the river about fifteen years ago."
Then the Baron grew pale, for he guessed at once that she was the little lass he had flung into the stream, and that Fate had been stronger than he was. But he kept his own counsel and said nothing at the time. Afterwards, however, he thought out a plan, so he rode back and gave the girl a letter.
"See you!" he said. "I will make your fortune. Take this letter to my brother, who needs a good girl, and you will be settled for life."
Now the fisherman and his wife were growing old and needed help; so the girl said she would go, and took the letter.
And the Baron rode back to his castle saying to himself once more:
"There goes Fate!"
For what he had written in the letter was this:
"Dear Brother,
"Take the bearer and put her to death immediately."
But once again he was sore mistaken; since on the way to the town where his brother lived, the girl had to stop the night in a little inn. And it so happened that that very night a gang of thieves broke into the inn, and not content with carrying off all that the innkeeper possessed, they searched the pockets of the guests, and found the letter which the girl carried. And when they read it, they agreed that it was a mean trick and a shame. So their captain sat down and, taking pen and paper, wrote instead:
"Dear Brother,
"Take the bearer and marry her to my son without delay."
Then, after putting the note into an envelope and sealing it up, they gave it to the girl and bade her go on her way. So when she arrived at the brother's castle, though rather surprised, he gave orders for a wedding feast to be prepared. And the Baron's son, who was staying with his uncle, seeing the girl's great beauty, was nothing loth, so they were fast wedded.
Well! when the news was brought to the Baron, he was nigh beside himself; but he was determined not to be done by Fate. So he rode post-haste to his brother's and pretended to be quite pleased. And then one day, when no one was nigh, he asked the young bride to come for a walk withhim, and when they were close to some cliffs, seized hold of her, and was for throwing her over into the sea. But she begged hard for her life.
"It is not my fault," she said. "I have done nothing. It is Fate. But if you will spare my life I promise that I will fight against Fate also. I will never see you or your son again until you desire it. That will be safer for you; since, see you, the sea may preserve me, as the river did."
Well! the Baron agreed to this. So he took off his gold ring from his finger and flung it over the cliffs into the sea and said:
"Never dare to show me your face again till you can show me that ring likewise."
And with that he let her go.
Well! the girl wandered on, and she wandered on, until she came to a nobleman's castle; and there, as they needed a kitchen girl, she engaged as a scullion, since she had been used to such work in the fisherman's hut.
Now one day, as she was cleaning a big fish, she looked out of the kitchen window, and who should she see driving up to dinner but the Baron and his young son, her husband. At first she thought that, to keep her promise, she must run away; but afterwards she remembered they would not see her in the kitchen, so she went on with her cleaning of the big fish.
And, lo and behold! she saw something shine in its inside, and there, sure enough, was the Baron's ring! She was glad enough to see it, I can tell you; so she slipped iton to her thumb. But she went on with her work, and dressed the fish as nicely as ever she could, and served it up as pretty as may be, with parsley sauce and butter.
Well! when it came to table the guests liked it so well that they asked the host who cooked it. And he called to his servants, "Send up the cook who cooked that fine fish, that she may get her reward."
Well! when the girl heard she was wanted she made herself ready, and with the gold ring on her thumb, went boldly into the dining-hall. And all the guests when they saw her were struck dumb by her wonderful beauty. And the young husband started up gladly; but the Baron, recognising her, jumped up angrily and looked as if he would kill her. So, without one word, the girl held up her hand before his face, and the gold ring shone and glittered on it; and she went straight up to the Baron, and laid her hand with the ring on it before him on the table.
Then the Baron understood that Fate had been too strong for him; so he took her by the hand, and, placing her beside him, turned to the guests and said:
"This is my son's wife. Let us drink a toast in her honour."
And after dinner he took her and his son home to his castle, where they all lived as happy as could be for ever afterwards.