Helga

An old man and his wife once lived in a cottage beside the sea, far

away from any other habitations. They had three daughters; the eldest

was called Fredegond, the second Olga, and the youngest Helga.

Now, although the parents were not rich, owning only a few acres of

land, which they tilled themselves, Fredegond and Olga were treated as

if they were princesses. They never did any work, but sat all day

amusing themselves and decking themselves in any finery their father

brought them home from the neighbouring town, whilst Helga, who was far

more beautiful and clever than either of her sisters, was always kept

in the background. She never shared in any pleasures that her elder

sisters often enjoyed; no presents were ever brought home for her; but

all day long, from early morning till late at night, poor Helga had to

work and toil for the whole family, receiving nothing but sour looks,

often accompanied by blows, from the elder sisters.

Now, it happened one day that the fire on their hearth had been allowed

to go out. Helga was busy working in the fields, and as they had to

send a long way to fetch fresh fire, the old man told Fredegond she

must go for it

At first Fredegond grumbled, for she was trying to dress her hair in a

new way; but then she thought a walk through the woods might be

pleasant, so she started.

After she had gone some little distance, she came to a hillock, and

heard a deep voice saying, “Would you rather have me with you or

against you?”

Fredegond, thinking it was some labourer or woodcutter, said she did

not care in the least, and that it was very impertinent of him to

address her, and went on to the cave whence they fetched their fire.

When she got there, to her great surprise she saw a big cauldron,

filled with meat, boiling on the fire, and beside it stood a pan,

filled with dough, waiting to be made into cakes, but not a creature in

sight.

Fredegond, being very hungry after her long walk, stirred up the fire

beneath the cauldron, to make the meat boil quickly, and then began

baking some cakes. But although she made one specially nice for

herself, she let all the others burn, so that they were quite

uneatable. Then as soon as the meat was cooked she took a bowl from a

shelf, filled it with all the best bits, and sat down and made a good

meal, finishing up with the cake.

Just as she had finished, a big black dog ran up to her, and began

wagging his tail and begging for some food. But Fredegond angrily gave

him a slap, and chased him away. Then the dog grew angry, and, jumping

upon her, bit one of her hands.

Screaming with fright and pain, Fredegond jumped up, and, in her hurry

to get away, forgot all about the fire she was to bring, and ran home

to tell her parents what had happened.

They were very sorry, both for her sore hand, which they bathed and

bandaged, and the lack of the fire. It was really very unfortunate, for

that cave was the nearest place where they could procure some fire, as

it was generally used by charcoal-burners. So, though very unwilling to

send Olga, who was their pet and favourite, she had to go, for they all

feared that if Helga were sent, she might run away and never come back

again. And then there would be no one on whom to vent their bad

tempers, or to do the work of the whole household—for did she not wait

on father and mother and both her sisters? So it was decided that Olga

should go.

But, alas! Olga fared even worse than her sister. She was so spoilt,

that she thought she ought always to have the best of everything. So,

when she reached the cave, she too helped herself to all the best bits

of meat, and, making a nice cake for herself, threw the rest of the

dough on the fire.

Then when the dog came up to her and wagged his tail and sat up and

begged for some food, Olga took up some of the boiling broth and threw

it on him. This made the dog so angry that he jumped up and bit off the

point of her nose; and Olga ran home crying and screaming, with only

half a nose and no fire.

This time the parents were quite beside themselves with anger, and

decided that Helga must go and fetch the fire. If she succeeded, well

and good; and if not, why, the dog might eat her, for all they cared.

It would be a good riddance.

So, taking up the big fire-shovel, Helga went on her way to the cave.

As she passed the hillock, she too heard a voice, saying, “Would you

rather I was with you than against you?”

To this question she answered, “A well-known proverb says, ‘There is

nothing so bad that it is not better to have it on your side than

against you;’ so, as I do not know who you are who ask me this

question, I would rather that you were with me than against me.”

And hearing nothing further and seeing no one, Helga continued her way

till she reached the cave. Here she found everything the same as her

sisters had done. The cauldron was on the fire, and the dough was ready

for baking, but, instead of thinking only of herself, Helga looked

after the meat, and saw that it was nicely cooked; then, with great

care, she made up the dough into cakes, and never thought of taking

anything for herself, although she was very hungry, for she had had

nothing for her breakfast but some hard, dry crusts, and a glass of

cold water. Neither would she now help herself to any of the fire

without asking leave from the owner of the cave.

Feeling very tired after her long walk, Helga sat down on a bench to

rest. But she had hardly done so, when she heard a loud rumbling noise;

the ground began to tremble; and Helga, fearful that the cave might

fall in, rose hastily from her seat. But as she turned to run out, she

saw a big, three-headed giant standing at the entrance of the cave,

followed by a large black dog.

Helga was terribly frightened; but being fond of animals, she held out

her hand and patted the dog, and she quite regained courage when the

giant, in a kind voice, said, “You have done the work well, which you

found waiting here. It is only right, therefore, that you should get

your share. Sit down, therefore, on that bench, and share my dinner;

afterwards you can take home some of the fire you have come for.”

The giant then got a bowl from the shelf and helped Helga to some broth

out of the big cauldron, carefully giving her the tenderest bits of

meat. As he did so, the ground again began to shake and tremble, and

fearful noises, like claps of thunder, frightened Helga greatly.

But the giant in a gentle voice bade her sit down beside him, and she

finished her broth.

Then the giant got up and gave her one of the cakes she had baked; but

no sooner had she finished it, than the ground again began to shake and

tremble, the thunder pealed, and flash after flash of lightning lit up

the inside of the cave. Helga got so terrified that she ran up to the

giant for protection, and as she clung to his arm the noises ceased,

and as the darkness passed away Helga saw that the giant had

disappeared, and that she was holding on to the arm of a handsome young

prince.

“Nay, do not be frightened,” he said; “I can never thank you enough,

dear Helga, for you have rescued me from the horrible enchantment the

wicked fairy Gondomar pronounced on me at my birth. I am Torquil, the

son of King Osbert, who reigns in the neighbouring island; but because

my father refused to marry Gondomar, and chose my mother instead, the

wicked fairy condemned me to go through life a three-headed monster,

until some young girl should, despite my frightful appearance, place

full trust and confidence in me.”

As Prince Torquil said these words, he seated himself beside Helga on a

stone, thickly covered with soft green moss. Then Helga told him her

history, and why she came to the cave, and also the fate of her sisters

who had gone to the cave on the same errand, adding that she must

hasten back with the fire, else her father and mother would scold and

beat her.

“You shall not be ill treated any more,” replied Torquil; and he went

to the back of the cave, and presently returned, carrying a casket and

a small bundle in his hands.

“See, this casket contains gold, and pearls, and precious stones,” he

said. “You can give some of these to your sisters; but this,” and he

placed the bundle on a stool, “you must wear under your own dress, when

you get home, and be very careful that no one sees it.”

So saying, he undid the bundle, and unfolded a beautiful dress of cloth

of gold, all worked with silver and precious stones.

Helga could not repress a cry of admiration when she saw the lovely

gown, and warmly thanked the prince for all his beautiful gifts.

Torquil then filled her fire-shovel with burning coals, and carried it

for her some part of the way home; but ere they came in sight of the

cottage he stopped, and, taking her hand, placed a heavy gold ring on

her finger.

“Keep this ring, dear Helga,” he said, “and let no one take it from

you. It will not be long ere I come to claim my bride, but I must first

return to my parents and tell them the joyful news that the wicked

charm is broken at last.” With these words he took a loving farewell of

Helga, and started her on her homeward journey.

When she reached the cottage, and her parents saw that she had

succeeded in bringing back the fire, Helga, for once in her life,

received a kind word of welcome; but when she showed them the casket

and was about to give her sisters some of the jewels, they seized upon

it, and dividing the contents among themselves, returned Helga the

empty casket. They might also have taken away her beautiful dress, but,

after Torquil left her, she had taken the precaution to slip it on

under her old gown, so no one knew anything about it.

And thus some days passed on. Matters relapsed into their former way.

Fredegond and Olga did nothing all day but deck themselves with the

jewels out of the casket, quarrelling and fighting over them and Helga,

as before, had to do the work for the whole family, when one day the

mother, who had been to the higher meadow for some herbs she wanted,

came back and said that she had seen a beautiful big ship lying at

anchor on the shore below their cottage.

The old man hastened down to the strand to find out who the owner of

the fine vessel might be, and seeing a boat pulling off from it, he

waited till the stranger, who was a handsome young man, had landed, and

then entered into conversation with him. But though he plied him with

many questions, he could not find out his name.

Then the young man in his turn began to question him, and asked him how

many children he had.

“Only two daughters,” replied the old man, “and such good and beautiful

girls they are too,” he added.

“I should much like to see them,” said the stranger.

The old man, greatly delighted, led the way back to his cottage, where

his two eldest daughters had hurried on their best frocks and decked

themselves with all the jewels out of Helga’s casket.

The stranger expressed himself as being very pleased with the girls.

“But,” he asked, “why has one of your daughters got her hand tied up

with a cloth, and the other one a handkerchief fastened across her

nose?”

At first the father said they had met with an accident, and slipped

down the cliffs; but when the stranger pressed for further particulars,

the story of the dogs and the cave had to be told.

“But surely you have another daughter?” said the stranger; “one who, I

know, is always kind to all animals.”

At first the old man and his wife both declared they only had those two

daughters; but when the stranger kept on urging him, he at last

admitted that he had another girl. “But she is so ugly, lazy, and

wicked,” he added, “that she is more like some wild animal than a human

being.”

But the stranger said he did not mind that at all, and that he must see

her. So the old man was obliged at last to call Helga.

The poor girl came out from the kitchen dressed just as she was, in her

shabby old dress, when the young man went up to her; and as he took her

hand the ragged old gown slipped from her shoulders, and there, to the

astonishment and rage of her sisters, stood Helga, arrayed in the

beautiful garment the prince had given her.

Prince Torquil rated the old man and the two wicked sisters soundly for

all their unkindness to Helga. He also made the sisters give up all the

jewels they had taken from her. But Helga begged that they might be

allowed to keep a few; and the prince consenting, she gave each of them

two chains, two brooches, two bracelets, and two pairs of ear-rings.

Then Torquil led Helga down to the shore and took her on board his

beautiful ship, where his sister gave her a kindly welcome; and when

they reached his own country, King Osbert and his queen prepared a

great wedding-feast, and Torquil and Helga were married, and lived long

and happily together.