Greybeard

Chapter I

the Strange Adventures Of Geir

Once upon a time, there lived a king and queen in a magnificent palace,

surrounded by lovely gardens. Beyond them there stretched out great

fields and meadows, in which grazed large flocks of sheep and herds of

cattle, all of which belonged to the king, and beyond these again there

was a beautiful big forest. But in addition to all this, they had an

only child called Sigrid, who was known as the fairest princess in all

the land.

Now, the king of one of the neighbouring kingdoms wanted to marry the

princess, and as he was very rich, her father and mother thought they

could not do better than give him their daughter.

But Sigrid much preferred her young cousin Olaf, who, having lost his

parents when a child, had been brought up with her, and who was as

brave and handsome as the king (her suitor) was old and ugly.

When her father and the queen found that the princess would have

nothing to say to the old king, they determined to send Olaf away.

“But we must be careful how we do it, and pretend it is for his good,”

said the queen; “for remember, he has a fairy god-mother.”

So the king sent for Olaf his nephew, and told him he wished him to

travel for a year and see something of the world.

“For it is not a good thing,” said he, “for a young man always to stay

at home. Go, therefore, to all the neighbouring kingdoms, and see what

is done in other lands.”

The parting between Olaf and Sigrid was very sad, for he feared that

the king and queen would force her to marry the rich old king during

his absence, and Sigrid dreaded the dangers that might befall Olaf

during his travels. But they promised to remain true to one another,

and that nothing but death should part them. And then Olaf started on

his journey.

Now, on the borders of the king’s forest there lived an old man and his

wife. The old man was called Geir, and his wife Trude. The old couple

were very, very poor; their little hut contained only the barest

necessaries, but they had one cow, and having no children, the old man

and his wife managed to live on the milk from their cow, and on the

roots they gathered in the king’s forest.

One Sunday, Trude, feeling very tired, said she would stay at home and

rest, while her husband went alone to the village church. The pastor’s

sermon that Sunday was on charity, and Geir returned home greatly

delighted with what he had heard. In the evening, as they were sitting

beside the hearth, his wife asked him what the sermon had been about.

“Oh,” said Geir, “it was the best sermon I have ever heard. The pastor

said that, whoever gave away what he possessed, it would be returned to

him an hundredfold, and I mean to try it.”

“Ah,” said his wife, shaking her head, “I don’t think he can quite have

meant that. You must have misunderstood him.”

But Geir maintained that he was right, and so they went on disputing

for more than an hour without either convincing the other.

The next morning, the old man hastened into the forest, and getting

together a lot of woodcutters, he persuaded them to help him to build a

hundred stalls. His wife grew very angry, and scolded him well for his

folly, as she called it; but he turned a deaf ear to all her

remonstrance, and continued his work. When the stalls were ready, Geir

sat down and began to think who would be the best person to give his

cow to, and so get a hundred cows in return.

“Surely, there is no one so rich as the king,” soliloquized Geir; “he

could easily give me a hundred cows for my one cow.” And thus thinking,

he led forth his cow, despite all the angry protestations of his wife.

When he had gone about halfway, a tremendous storm arose. Heavy black

clouds rolled up from the north, the lightning flashed, and he could

hardly stand up under the drenching showers of rain and hail, whilst

the cow, terrified at the noise and darkness, struggled frantically to

get away.

“Alas,” sighed the old man, “I fear I shall have to let her go, for I

cannot hold on much longer. It is so dark, I cannot see a step before

me, nor do I know in which direction to travel! Alas, alas! it will be

a wonder if I ever reach home alive!”

While he was thus wandering helplessly about in the dark, bewailing

himself, and not knowing which way to turn, he suddenly saw an old

woman standing before him, with a large sack on her shoulders.

“What are you doing out in such weather with your cow?” she asked.

Then Geir told her why he had set forth with his cow, and what a rich

return he hoped to get.

“You will certainly lose your own cow, in place of getting a hundred

new ones, and probably lose your own life too,” said the old woman.

“You had much better give me your cow, which is leading you a fine

dance, and take this sack in exchange. See, you can easily carry it on

your back, and I promise you, you will find it contains good flesh and

bones.”

At first Geir would not hear of the exchange; but finding the animal

grow more and more restive and wild, he at last consented, and no

sooner had the old woman got the cow, than both she and it disappeared.

After some difficulty, the old man managed to lift the sack on to his

shoulders, and, the storm having exhausted itself, made the best of his

way home, groaning and panting under his burden, which seemed to grow

heavier and heavier as he went on.

At length he reached his hut, and told his wife what had happened to

him, making a great to do over the sack he had carried, and all the

good food it contained.

“Oh dear, oh dear!” cried Trude, wringing her hands. “I do think you

grow more stupid every day! It was bad enough to take away our only

cow, and now you come back bringing an old sack!”

But Geir told her not to scold. She had better fill the big pot with

water and put it on the fire, for had not the old woman told him the

sack contained good flesh and bones?

Trude did as she was told, though grumbling the while, and when the pot

began to boil, Geir went to the sack to untie it. But, behold, no

sooner did he touch the string than the sack began to move and twist

and turn about.

“There is something alive inside,” cried Trude, terrified; “open it

quickly.” And when Geir had untied the string, out stepped a little man

dressed from head to foot in grey; even his hair and beard were grey.

“If you want to cook anything for your supper,” he cried laughingly, “I

hope you will try your hand on something else than me.”

Poor Geir was struck dumb with amazement; but his wife made up for his

silence, and jeered and laughed at him for his folly and stupidity.

“First you get rid of our only means of support, and now, when we know

not how or where to get food for ourselves, you bring home another

mouth to feed, and so add to our burden. You surely must have lost the

little wit you ever had!”

And thus the war of words raged till the man in grey said—

“Your wrangling will do none of us any good. Rather let me go out and

see if I cannot bring back some food for supper. We shall certainly not

grow fat on your quarrels.”

So saying, and without awaiting a reply, he opened the door and sallied

forth in the darkness, and ere the old couple could come to any

decision as to who or what he was, good geni or wicked sprite, the grey

man returned, bringing back with him a nice fat sheep ready killed.

“There,” he said, throwing it down, “now you can prepare some food, so

that we may eat.”

Geir scratched his head, and looked at Trude. She returned the glance,

and then they both looked at the grey man. Surely he must have stolen

the sheep! They did not know what to do.

But at length hunger got the better of their scruples, and, following

the directions of Greybeard, as they called him, they cut up the sheep,

cooked a portion of it for their supper, and lived in comfort on the

remainder for several days. When that sheep was finished, Greybeard

brought in another, then a third, then a fourth, and also a fifth.

By this time Greybeard had become a very welcome guest, and the old

people wondered how they could ever have lived without him.

Chapter Ii

how Greybeard Outwitted The King And Won Princess Sigrid

And now we must take a peep at the king’s palace.

It was just a year since Prince Olaf had started on his travels, and as

nothing had been heard of him from any of the knights or wandering

minstrels who travelled about from one country to another, the king and

queen told Sigrid that it was no use waiting any longer, and that she

must marry the rich old king.

In vain she protested that she would rather not marry at all if she

could not wed Olaf. But the king said that was all nonsense; princesses

must marry. And so the preparations for the wedding were begun, for

both the king and queen determined that the marriage feast should be on

a most magnificent scale. All the neighbouring kings and queens, and

princes and princesses were invited, and as the feasting was to

continue for a whole week, all the royal cooks and bakers were busy

from morning till night.

Now, the royal shepherd had noticed that, for some time past, one of

the sheep from his flocks disappeared every few days. He puzzled his

head to try and find out the cause, but so far he had not succeeded,

and when the fifth sheep disappeared he went to the king and told him

what had happened.

“There surely must be a thief about the court,” he added. “That is the

only way I can account for the loss of the sheep.”

On hearing this the king got very angry, and immediately made inquiries

if any strangers had been seen in the neighbourhood lately. At first he

could learn nothing; but at last one of the servants said he had heard

there was a little man dressed in grey whom no one knew, and who lived

in the hut of old Geir and his wife.

Then the king sent messengers to the hut, commanding the immediate

presence of the stranger in the great audience hall of the palace.

The old couple were greatly terrified when they heard this message.

They made sure that their kind guest, through whose means they had been

preserved from starvation, would be hanged as a thief. But Greybeard

did not seem the least frightened, and prepared cheerfully to return

with the king’s messenger.

When he entered the great hall, the king asked him if he was the man

who had stolen the five sheep.

“Yes, sire,” replied Greybeard; “I do not deny it.”

“And pray, may I ask why you did it?” demanded the king.

“I did not go very far beyond my rights,” replied Greybeard. “Besides,

the old people who live in the hut yonder, are no longer able to

support themselves,” he continued; “they had no food, while you, oh

king, have plenty, and more than you can possibly use. It seemed only

fair to me, therefore, that they should have as much as they needed, of

that which you did not require, and could not use.”

The king was at first inclined to be angry at this cool rejoinder; but

he then became amused at Greybeard’s coolness—it just reminded him of

what Prince Olaf used to do. So he laughed, and asked him if the art of

thieving was the only thing he had ever learned.

“No, sire,” replied Greybeard, smiling; “I took no more than I had a

fair right to, neither did I take it for myself, nor did I deprive you

of anything you really needed.”

“Well,” said the king, “you certainly are a funny fellow, and always

ready with an answer. But though I won’t hang you for stealing my

sheep, I must give you a lesson. To-morrow I will send my servants into

the forest with my young red bull. If you succeed in stealing him, you

shall be pardoned, but if you fail, you shall be hanged.”

“I do not think I could steal the bull,” replied Greybeard, “for, of

course, you will have him carefully guarded.”

“That is your affair,” answered the king; “see that you do not fail.”

When Greybeard returned to the hut, the old people received him with

great joy, for they feared they should never see him again. He asked

them if they had a stout rope, as he would need it next morning. Trude

searched in her cupboards, and luckily found a nice bit of strong rope.

This she gave Greybeard, and then all three retired to rest.

At break of day, Greybeard got up very quietly, dressed himself, and,

taking the rope, left the hut.

He went to that part of the forest where he knew the king’s servants

must pass with the young bull. Climbing up into a big oak tree that

stood close to the side of the road, he wound the rope round his body,

and, crawling along a thick branch, he dropped gently from it, the rope

under his arms, and his head hanging on his breast.

Presently he heard the king’s servants coming along with the young

bull. As they came near the tree, they looked up, and saw, as they

thought, the grey man, hanging apparently lifeless from the branch.

“Aha!” said one, “no doubt he has been robbing others beside our king,

and so they have hanged him! Serve him right, the rascal; he will not

trouble us again, or try to steal the bull!” So they passed on, quite

satisfied that their enemy was dead.

But no sooner were they out of sight, than Greybeard climbed down, and

taking a short cut through the brushwood, known only to himself, he was

soon well in advance of the men. Quickly climbing up another big oak

that stood near the road by which the king’s servants had to pass, he

again twisted the rope round his body and hung down from the branch.

When the men arrived with the bull, they were greatly surprised to see

another grey man hanging from the tree.

“Could there possibly be two Greybeards?” they asked each other, “or

was there some magic at work?”

“Listen,” said the chief servant, “we will leave the bull here, run

back to the other tree, and find out whether there are two Greybeards,

or whether the same man hangs from both trees.”

So saying, they fastened the bull to the tree with a stout rope, and

ran back the way they had come.

No sooner were they out of sight, than Greybeard quickly dropped to the

ground, untied the bull, and led him away to the hut.

“Here, friends,” he called out to the old people, “here is food in

plenty. Kill the bull; we will have a good roast of beef. You can then

salt down the rest, and make candles out of the fat; but his skin you

must keep for me!”

The delight of the old people at the prospect of such a supply of good

food, can well be imagined.

The king’s servants meanwhile, having gone back to the first oak tree

and finding no one there, had returned to the second tree, but when

they found that both the bull and Greybeard had disappeared, they began

to realize that a trick had been played upon them. So there was nothing

to be done but to return to the palace and tell the king what had

happened.

After hearing their tale, the king at once sent a messenger to

Greybeard, telling him to come with all possible speed to the palace.

The old couple greatly feared, when they heard his message, that some

evil was intended towards Greybeard, and quite expected the king would

hang him.

But Greybeard told them to keep up a good heart and not to weep; and,

whistling cheerfully, he appeared before the king without any sign of

fear or dread.

“Was it you who stole my bull?” asked the king.

“I did not steal it, sire; I had to take it, in order to save my life,”

replied Greybeard.

“Well,” said the king, “I suppose that is true, I will therefore pardon

you again, if you can this night manage to take away the sceptre from

under my pillow without waking either the queen or me.”

“That is beyond the power of any man to do,” replied Greybeard; “for

how can I get at night into your palace, which is always guarded? much

less into your bedchamber!”

“Nay, that is your affair; you must see to that,” replied the king.

“And remember that, if you fail, it means losing your life.” And with

these words he dismissed him.

Then Greybeard returned to the old couple, who welcomed him as if he

had indeed returned to them from the dead. Trude had roasted the finest

joint, gathered a big bowl of whortleberries, and baked some nice crisp

girdle cakes, so they had a great feast, after which Greybeard asked

her to give him one of her nice sleeping-potions which she made for

Geir when his rheumatism was very bad.

“That I will gladly, my son,” said Trude, heartily. She quickly hung

her pot over the glowing embers, putting in henbane and many other

herbs, and when the potion was ready she poured it into a little bottle

and gave it to Greybeard.

The sun had by this time set like a golden ball, tinting the great

brown stems of the tall pines with a rich crimson glow, as Greybeard,

with the bottle carefully placed in his coat pocket, made his way back

to the castle.

Watching his opportunity when the sentry at the little postern gate had

turned his back, he slipped through the gate and hid himself in a dark

corner behind one of the great buttresses. Presently he heard the gates

close for the night, so that there should be no possibility of a thief

getting in.

When Greybeard thought he had allowed a sufficiently long time to pass

to admit of every one, including the king and queen, being soundly

asleep, he stole quietly and cautiously out of his hiding-place and

along the great passages, till he reached the royal bedchamber.

Carefully opening the door, he crept softly up to the big couch on

which reposed the king and queen. Making sure that they were sound

asleep, he drew forth his little bottle, poured some of the contents on

his handkerchief, and dropped it lightly over the faces of the royal

couple.

He waited for a few minutes to see that the sleeping-drops had taken

effect, and then, slipping his hand under the king’s pillow, he slowly

and cautiously drew forth the great golden sceptre, buttoned it safely

inside his coat, and, removing the handkerchief, he hastened back to

his hiding-place behind the buttress, and as soon as the gate was

opened at daybreak, he ran back to old Geir’s hut.

The next morning, when the king and queen awoke, the former put his

hand under the pillow, and behold the sceptre was gone!

“Ah, that rascal has been too clever for us again!” cried the king, and

immediately sent another messenger to Greybeard to summon him to the

castle at once.

This time Geir and Trude made sure the king would hang Greybeard, and

were almost heart-broken as they bade him farewell.

“Did you yourself steal the sceptre from under my pillow last night

while we were asleep?” asked the king.

“Yes, oh king,” replied Greybeard. “I did not steal it, however; but

took it, as you told me. I had to do it to save my life.”

“Well,” said the king, “you certainly are a clever fellow. I will

therefore pardon you all you have done if this night you can carry off

both the queen and me, out of our bed. If, however, you fail to do so,

you shall certainly be hanged without hope of forgiveness.”

“That is not possible for any one to do unassisted,” said Greybeard.

“Oh, that is your affair; see you to that,” answered the king, and

dismissed him.

Greybeard returned to his hut. The old people were greatly rejoiced to

see him, for they quite expected the king would have hung him; but he

was more silent than usual, and after they had finished their evening

meal, and the old people had gone to bed, Greybeard went out and walked

in the moonlight under the tall trees, planning how to carry out the

fresh task given him.

Presently he returned to the hut and took down the old man’s

wide-brimmed felt hat that hung on a nail at the back of the door.

Boring holes in the brim, he stuck in them some of the candles which

Trude had made from the fat of the bull, and also fastened candles in

his belt, and then, taking the great leather sack which Geir had made

out of the bull’s skin, he returned to the palace and stood in front of

the chapel steps which faced the king’s bedroom. Laying down the sack,

he lighted all the candles he had brought, sticking them on his

shoulders and wherever he could fasten them, and then rang the chapel

bell.

This unusual sound in the middle of the night wakened the king and

queen. Jumping hurriedly out of bed, they hastened to the window, and

there, standing outside the chapel door, they saw a figure, all blazing

with light. Greatly startled, they thought it must be a spirit.

“Such a visitor must be received with all honour,” said the queen. “Let

us go out and ask his protection and goodwill.”

So they put on their very grandest clothes and went out to meet the

supposed spirit. Falling on their knees, they begged him to tell them

why he had come, and hoped he would not be too severe with them, or

want them to give away too large a portion of their treasure.

Greybeard, looking very stern beneath the light of the blazing candles,

said he did not want any of their money, but they must both get inside

the sack which he placed on the steps.

“Is that all?” cried the king, quite relieved. “Why, that is very

easily done!” And, helping the queen in first, he crept in after her.

But no sooner were they both inside than Greybeard pulled to the

string. In vain the king kicked and threatened, the queen adding her

cries and tears. Greybeard quietly blew out all the lights, and

dragging the sack rapidly across the yard, said—

“I am no spirit, oh king, but your old friend Greybeard. You see, I

have got you and your queen out of your beds as you commanded me to do,

and now it is for me to make my conditions. I will not let you out of

the sack unless you promise me your forgiveness for what I have done,

and also give me your royal word that you will grant the request I will

presently make you.”

The king was so frightened and helpless, fearing that he might die ere

Greybeard opened the sack, that he willingly gave his royal word to

grant his request, whatever it might be. Whereupon Greybeard untied the

sack, and when the king and queen had crept forth, looking very

crestfallen, Greybeard said that, as next day was the princess’s

wedding-day, he had now to demand the hand of the fair Sigrid in

marriage, as well as the half of the kingdom during the king’s

lifetime; and, further, that old Geir and his wife, who had befriended

him in his poverty, should also live at the palace, and be amply

provided for.

The king, having given his royal word, could not of course retract, so

he and his queen returned to the palace very sad and sorrowful, for

now, instead of having the rich old king for a son-in-law, they had to

accept this terrible stranger and lose the half of their kingdom as

well.

Greybeard meanwhile returned to the cottage, and when he told Geir and

his wife that instead of losing his life he was going to marry the

princess the next morning, and that they also were to be provided for,

they could hardly believe his words.

“And now you must put on these smart clothes I have brought you, and go

back with me,” added Greybeard; and as soon as the old couple were

ready, they returned with him to the palace.

The morning of the wedding rose bright and sunny, and the old king, who

had arrived, was lodged in the palace. Leaving Geir and Trude among the

assembled guests, Greybeard went down into the beautiful gardens, and

there, seated on the stone bench near the fountain, he saw Sigrid,

looking sad and pale. She had heard of the grey stranger and all his

wonderful doings, and though glad that she was not to marry this ugly

old king, she could not forget Olaf.

Hearing a step approaching, she looked up and saw Greybeard coming

towards her.

“Fair princess,” he said, kneeling down before her. “Do not fear me,

but lay your hand in mine and trust me; believe me, I only wish to make

you happy.”

His voice was so soft, and he spoke so gently, that Sigrid, despite his

ugly grey beard, after a moment’s hesitation, placed her hand in his.

No sooner, however, had she done so, than the quaint grey figure

disappeared, behold! Olaf himself stood before her, and with a glad cry

she threw herself into his outstretched arms.

Together they then hastened to the king and queen, and Olaf told them

how, by the aid of his fairy godmother, he had been able to help the

old couple who had fed and sheltered him, and also to claim his

cousin’s hand, when his year of travel was ended.

The king having given his word, there was nothing further to be said,

and the old king had to return to his own country.

The wedding was one of the grandest that had ever been seen, and the

feasting lasted a whole month. Olaf and Sigrid lived long and happily

together, and after the king’s death Olaf succeeded to the kingdom,

which he ruled with such wisdom and goodness, that his reign has ever

since been known as “The reign of King Olaf the Good.”