Laughing Ingibjörg

Chapter I

thorwald And Ingibjörg Are Cruelly Treated By Their Stepmother, Who

tries To Get Rid Of Them

Long ago, when giants and ogres still walked about the earth, in a far

distant country, there once lived a king and queen. They had two

children, called Thorwald and Ingibjörg; but before the children were

grown up, the good queen died.

The king, who was very fond of his wife, was quite inconsolable at her

death. He lost interest in everything, shut himself up in his own

rooms, only coming out to sit and weep beside her grave.

This went on for so long, that at last his ministers came to him, and

told him that everything was going wrong in his kingdom, and that there

was a rumour abroad, that a neighbouring prince, hearing that the king

no longer took any interest in his affairs, meant to cross the water

and take possession of the king’s throne and lands. They therefore

begged him to rouse himself and look out for another wife, and either

go forth and seek her himself, or else send his ambassadors to try and

bring back a suitable princess.

At first the king would not listen to a word they said, but after a

time he saw that his ministers were right, so he agreed to fit out some

ships and send an embassy to several other countries in order to find

some fair princess worthy to share his throne.

Soon after the ambassadors had started and were once fairly on the high

seas, a great storm arose. The sky grew black as night, the thunder

roared and the lightning flashed, and the wind blew so strongly,

driving the ships in all directions, that the sailors quite lost their

reckoning; their rudders were broken, and they drifted about at the

mercy of the winds and waves. At length, after many days, they sighted

land; but when they came near, they saw it was quite an unknown shore.

The chief men of the expedition now disembarked, in order to make some

inquiries, leaving the sailors in charge of the ships.

For some time they could see no sign of any human habitation, and

thought they must have landed on some uninhabited island, but at length

they arrived at a small farm, consisting of a few wretched huts.

Not hearing a sound, and seeing no one about, they at first concluded

the place was deserted; but when they reached the last hovel, an old

woman came forth, who, despite her great age, was both tall and

stately, and at once asked them who they were and whence they had come.

“We have been driven here by the storm,” replied the leader, and he

then proceeded to tell her the object of their search.

“You certainly have been very unfortunate so far,” answered the old

woman, “and I fear there is but little chance of your finding what you

seek here.”

While they were talking, the sun had set, and as the weather showed

signs of again turning stormy, the ambassadors asked the old woman

whether she could give them shelter.

At first she absolutely refused, saying her miserable hut was not

fitted to receive people accustomed to live in royal castles; but, as

the storm increased, they continued to urge her to let them stay, till

at length she consented and bade them enter.

What was their surprise and astonishment to find the inside of this

apparently miserable hut richly fitted up like some kingly apartment

Handsome skins covered the floor, soft couches ran round the walls,

which were ornamented with richly chased shields and arms, and a bright

fire burnt cheerily on the hearth.

As soon as the men were seated, the old woman laid the great oaken

table which stood in the centre, and served the strangers with such

dainty dishes as might well befit a royal table.

“And do you mean to say that you live here all alone?” asked the chief

ambassador, during the meal.

“I might almost say that I do,” replied the woman, “for besides myself

there is no one here but my only child Guda.”

“And, pray, may we not see the maiden?” asked the ambassador; for they

were all wondering what the girl, living alone with her mother in these

strange surroundings, would be like.

Again the old woman demurred; but the more she pretended to hesitate,

the more the ambassadors urged her, till at last she consented, and

said she would bring her daughter.

When at last she entered by her mother’s side, the ambassadors were

almost startled by her marvellous beauty. Tall and fair, like a stately

lily, with a perfect wealth of golden hair, falling in shining masses

to the ground, Guda appeared before them like the goddess Freya.

Surely, they thought, nowhere could they find a lovelier maiden to fill

the vacant seat beside the king’s throne.

So, without further hesitation, they at once solicited her hand in

marriage, in the king’s name.

The old woman pretended to think they were only joking, and laughed at

the idea of the king seeking a wife in a peasant’s cottage, adding that

poor girls like her daughter had better remain at home, for such

grandeur was not for them, and their ignorance of the ways of the world

only brought them to shame instead of honour.

The king’s ambassadors, however, would not be put off, and the more the

old woman declared she could not part with her daughter, the more

determined they were to take her away with them. At last, seeing the

men would take no refusal, she consented to let the girl go, on

condition that they would bring her back again, if, on seeing her, the

king did not wish to marry her.

To this the ambassadors agreed, and then they all retired for the

night.

Next morning the men prepared to return to the ships, and the old woman

said her daughter would be ready to accompany them when she had got her

things together. Then, to their surprise, they found she had so many

packages that it needed all the ships’ crews to carry them to the shore

and put them on board.

The mother and daughter now went down to the beach together, talking

earnestly, but in such low tones that no one could make out what they

were saying; but one man heard the old woman say, “Remember, you must

send me back the big stone; I will manage the rest.”

And then they reached the shore, where the old mother kissed her

daughter, and, bidding her good-bye, wished her all good luck and

prosperity.

Then the anchors were weighed, the sails were hoisted, and the vessels

put out to sea, reaching their destination without any mishaps.

When the king heard that his ambassadors had returned, he went down to

the shore, accompanied by all the chief officers of his court, to bid

the travellers welcome, and when he saw the young girl whom the

ambassadors had chosen for his queen, he was greatly delighted, for she

was more beautiful than any maiden he had ever seen, and seemed as

sweet and good as she was lovely.

He conducted her back to the palace in great state. There a magnificent

banquet had been prepared, and soon after the wedding was celebrated,

amid the rejoicings of the whole island. The feast lasted three days,

and every one who saw the fair Queen Guda in her rich and costly robes,

seated on the throne beside her husband, declared no more beautiful

queen could possibly have been found, and though the king had loved his

first wife, he soon became so completely wrapped up in Guda, that her

word was law in everything.

Some months after the wedding, a war broke out in a neighbouring

kingdom, belonging to a cousin of the king, who had, therefore, to

start off and help him, as his enemies were too strong for him to fight

them alone.

The king, therefore, ordered out his war-galleys, and, as he expected

to be away some time, he, at the queen’s request, handed her his royal

signet ring, begging her to rule the kingdom during his absence, and be

a kind and loving mother to his two children, Thorwald and Ingibjörg.

This Guda promised she would do. So the king took a tender farewell of

his wife and children, and getting on board his ship, followed by his

men, a strong wind rapidly carried the vessels out of sight.

For some little time after the king had left, Queen Guda was very kind

to the children. She had them to dine at her own table, gave them fruit

and sweets and toys, and often took them for drives in her beautiful

chariot, with the cream-coloured horses.

Then one day she asked them to go down to the shore with her and play

some games.

It was a beautiful morning; the sun shone warm and bright, the blue sea

was smooth and glistening like a great sheet of glass, and as the tiny

wavelets receded, the golden sands were strewn with lovely pink and

violet shells and glistening feathery weeds of every hue and shade.

“Oh, Thorwald!” cried Ingibjörg, running up to her brother and laughing

merrily, her arms filled with long trails of crimson and green seaweed.

“Look how beautiful they are! Let us play at being king and queen, and

I will make two lovely crowns.”

“No; come here, children,” said the queen. She had walked some little

distance along the shore, and now stood beside a big square stone.

Then, as Thorwald and Ingibjörg came near her, she muttered, “Open, oh

stone!” And at these words the great square stone parted asunder,

showing a large cavity inside, and before the children knew what had

happened, Queen Guda had pushed them both in; the stone closed with a

snap, and, giving it a strong shove, she rolled the stone into the sea.

She then returned to the castle weeping, telling her attendants that

the children had run away, that she had called them to come back, but

all in vain, they would not obey; so she now sent out messengers in all

directions, pretending terrible grief at their supposed loss.

Chapter Ii

how Thorwald And Ingibjörg Found Themselves At The Witch’s Island, And

what They Did

The two children meanwhile, when they felt the stone closing, tried

their utmost to force it open. But all their efforts proved fruitless;

the stone remained shut, and the children soon felt, by the rapid

motion, that they were fairly out at sea, for, being a magic stone, it

floated on the surface of the water instead of sinking to the bottom.

The waves tossed it about for many hours, but at length the children

felt the motion getting less and less, until at last the stone lay

perfectly still.

“I think we must be near land now,” said Thorwald. “There is no motion

at all.”

“If you think that, why should not you say the same words the queen

did?” replied Ingibjörg.

So Thorwald waited a little longer in order to make sure it was not

merely a temporary lull, and then he called out loudly—

“Open, oh stone!”

And immediately the great stone parted asunder, and Thorwald saw they

were close to the shore.

The two children then slipped out, and paddled through the shallow

water to the land. But though they wandered along the fine dry sand for

some distance, they could see no sign of any habitation. They therefore

determined to try and build a little hut for themselves.

Now, Thorwald, although but a young lad, had always gone out hunting

with his father, who had given him a small gun and hunting-knife. These

and his flute, on which he played wonderfully well, the boy never

parted with, and he therefore had them with him when he and his sister

had gone out with the queen in the morning.

Fashioning a rough wooden spade out of some driftwood for Ingibjörg, he

used his knife to such purpose that a large hole was soon dug in the

dry sand. This he then covered over with branches cut from the

brushwood on the rocks, and leaving his sister to collect dry wood for

a fire, he went in search of some birds for their supper. But although

successful in shooting a couple, there was, alas! no fire to cook them,

and poor Ingibjörg, who was getting very hungry, looked sadly at the

food they could not eat.

“You pluck and prepare the birds,” said Thorwald, “and I will go

further inland and see if I cannot get some fire.”

So saying, he went up a narrow valley instead of, as heretofore,

keeping along the shore, and after he had gone some little distance, he

came to a small miserable-looking farm. He could see no one about, so

he climbed up the steep slanting roof of the centre hut and peeped down

the hole which served as a chimney.

There he saw an old, very ugly, and dirty woman, busily engaged raking

out the ashes from the hearth. But he noticed that half the cinders

tumbled down among her feet, instead of into the ashpan she held in her

left hand. So Thorwald made certain that the old woman must be blind.

He determined, therefore, to enter quietly into the house, and carry

off a few live coals. First slipping down the roof, he crept slowly in

at the low door, and then, watching his opportunity, he crawled along

the wall till he reached the hearth. Then, seeing a small iron cup, he

carefully pushed some glowing coals into it, and seeing no one else

about, he made sure the old woman was alone, and while she was still

busy raking, he crept out of the hut, and, much pleased with his

success, hastened back to his sister.

Ingibjörg was delighted when she saw him arrive, and, the fire being

all ready laid, a bright flame soon shot up; the birds were roasted,

and the two children made a hearty supper, Ingibjörg’s merry laugh

sounding again as gay as ever.

Thorwald, somewhat tired with his day’s work, asked his sister to make

up a good fire ere they went to sleep, so that it might last all night.

But, alas! when they woke next morning the fire was out, so he had to

go again to the old woman’s farm to fetch more coals.

This time he begged Ingibjörg earnestly not to let the fire out; but,

alack! the little princess, though very willing and anxious to please

her brother, had not been accustomed to attend to fires, so, though

doing her best by making up a huge fire ere she went to sleep, it was

out in the morning.

Ingibjörg even tried to wake up very early in order to put on fresh

wood; but, despite all her efforts, each morning the fire was out, and

Thorwald had to go every day to fetch fresh fire.

Chapter Iii

their Further Adventures And Escape

Thus the brother and sister lived for some time on the birds and game

that Thorwald killed; and Ingibjörg having made a net out of the long

tough shore grasses, they also managed to catch some fish and crabs,

and their days passed pleasantly enough, while every morning Thorwald

went up the valley and brought away some live coals, without the old

woman ever finding it out.

Once, after he had taken away the coals, he heard her mutter—

“Ah! those devil’s children! they are a long time in coming, but arrive

here at last they must, for I made Guda promise to send them in the

stone, and she dare not disobey me. Ah! only let me once get hold of

them, and I will very soon put them out of the way.”

Thorwald thought these words must surely refer to himself and his

sister, who had arrived there in such a strange manner. He was,

therefore, very careful whenever he came to the hut for the fire coals,

to make as little noise as possible. He sometimes scarcely dared to

breathe for fear the old woman might discover him.

Meanwhile Ingibjörg, who had been very good about staying alone in

their little hut, at last became very curious about the old woman, and

begged and entreated Thorwald to let her go with him some day.

Thorwald, though willing to please his sister, was afraid to trust her,

for he knew that the sight of the queer old woman would make her laugh;

but he found it very difficult to deny her anything within his power to

grant, and when, therefore, she continued to beg him to take her, he at

last consented on condition that, no matter what she saw or heard, she

must promise him she would not laugh, as, if she did, it might cost

them their lives.

Ingibjörg promised she would keep quite still; so the next day the

brother and sister started off together for the old farm.

When they got there they climbed up the sloping roof, and, with another

warning to keep silent, Thorwald let his sister peep down through the

chimney hole. But, alas! what Thorwald had dreaded actually took place.

The old woman, who stood near the hearth, was raking out the ashes so

vigorously, that not only did she send them all over the floor instead

of into the ashpan, but she made such a cloud of dust that she was soon

completely covered from head to foot with a coating of grey ashes, and

began to cough violently.

When Ingibjörg saw this, she could not repress her laughter, and a

merry peal rang out in the clear air.

No sooner did the old woman hear this, than she chuckled gleefully.

“Ha! ha! ha! So those devil’s children have come at last, have they?

Ho! ho! ho! what a joke! Now I shall have them! Ha! ha! ha!”

And with these words she rushed out of the house. She was so quick,

that she came up to the children just as they were sliding down the

roof, and they might even then have got away, but that Ingibjörg, at

sight of the old woman, could not stop laughing; she thought her still

more comical-looking when she began to run.

But the laugh now turned to grief, for the old witch pulled some strong

leather straps out of her pocket, and, fastening them round the brother

and sister, she drove them back into the house. There she shut them up

in a lean-to, and secured them firmly with another strap to two strong

wooden posts.

The children at first were terribly frightened when they found they

could not get away, and Ingibjörg blamed herself greatly for having,

through her foolish laughter, brought about this terrible pass.

But the old woman evidently did not mean to starve them, for presently

she placed a big bowl of bread and milk before each of them, saying—

“Now eat all you can, and don’t waste anything.”

In the evening she again brought them food in plenty; and this went on

for some days.

But, though they were not harshly treated, except that they were never

untied, the children grew very weary and tired; the room was almost

dark, the only light coming through the hole in the roof, which also

served as a chimney. On the third day, the old woman took one of each

of their hands, and mumbling and gently biting their fingers, she

muttered—

“No, no! Not fat enough yet!”

Thorwald, therefore, determined to make every effort in order to free

themselves; but this was no easy matter. At length, after many

attempts, he succeeded in biting through the strap that fastened his

hands. He was thus able to get at his hunting-knife, which he

fortunately always wore beneath his tunic, so the old woman had not

seen it, else she would certainly have taken it away. Then, waiting

till night closed in and the old witch was asleep, he cut through the

rest of the straps that bound him and his sister.

“But the old woman will run after us and catch us if she sees us,”

whispered Ingibjörg.

“I have thought of that too,” replied Thorwald; “we must, therefore,

make sure she is asleep.” And, creeping cautiously along the floor, he

bent over the old hag, who lay snoring in one corner on a great heap of

skins.

“She is sound,” he then whispered, turning to Ingibjörg, having first

carefully placed another thick skin over the old woman. “We must get

away ere she wakens. Come, sister; don’t delay!” And, taking Ingibjörg

by the hand, he hurried her out of the house.

“Now you wait behind that great stone,” said he, “while I cut and widen

this ditch which runs across the road.” Then Thorwald set energetically

to work with his hunting-knife, and ere long had cut a deep wide ditch,

throwing up the loose earth to form a bank, which rose up between them

and the hut.

By this time the old ogress had wakened up, and, not hearing a sound,

began feeling about for the children. When she had tapped all round and

could not find them, she began to scream and swear with rage, and ran

out, calling loudly after them.

As soon as Ingibjörg saw her rushing along, her hair streaming wildly

behind her, she could not help laughing out aloud.

“Ha! so you are there, you bad wicked children!” cried the ogress. “But

only wait, just let me catch you, and I will teach you to run away! You

shall be put into the oven at once, for you are quite fat enough now,

and then I shall have a good meal!” So saying she ran along the path to

where she heard Ingibjörg’s voice, but, unable to see the ditch, she

fell in headlong and broke her neck.

Thorwald did not wait to learn what happened, but as soon as he saw the

ogress run after them and fall into the ditch, he took hold of

Ingibjörg’s hand, and together they raced back to the shore, very

thankful that they were now safe from the old witch’s clutches.

Chapter Iv

the King’s Return, And Queen Guda’s Release From The Witch’s Thrall

Several weeks now passed. Each morning Thorwald first gave a look

across the sea in hopes of seeing a ship or boat, and would then start

off in search of birds and game, while, strangely enough, after the old

witch’s death their fire never went out, and Ingibjörg, by carefully

attending to it, was able to keep it burning both day and night.

Sometimes, when no food was needed, the children having laid in a

sufficient supply of game and fish, Thorwald would take his flute and

play, while his sister plaited mats and baskets out of the long rushes

that grew near the shore.

Thus it happened that one day, while the two children sat on the shore,

they saw several ships sailing slowly past the island.

Thorwald, who had just put down his flute, now took it up again, and

began playing as loud as he could.

The ships came gradually nearer.

“Oh, Thorwald!” cried Ingibjörg, clapping her hands, “see, they are

coming nearer! Oh, play louder, louder!” and she joined her voice to

his flute.

And sure enough, ere long, the largest of the vessels cast anchor close

to the shore, the other ships still keeping out to sea at some

distance.

And then, to the children’s great joy, they saw their father standing

on the deck. A boat was lowered, the king and one of his followers were

quickly rowed to shore, and in a few more moments Thorwald and

Ingibjörg were clasped in their father’s arms.

Great was his surprise to find them on this lonely island, for he had

heard nothing of what had happened in his own country during his

absence, and it was only by chance that he had sailed close to the

island, none of his people caring to come near it, as it was supposed

to be the home of evil spirits; and when they heard the sound of the

flute they thought it must surely be the song of some mermaids, wiling

the king’s fleet to destruction by their soft sweet melodies.

But the king for some reason felt he must find out what it was, so had

ventured near the land, the rest of his fleet keeping out to sea.

The king then asked his children how it was they were there, and when

he heard what had happened during his absence, he grew very wroth.

He at once took the children on board his own ship, and commanded his

people under pain of instant death not to breathe a word to any one of

what had occurred.

The fleet was then ordered to set sail and return home with all

possible speed. Arrived near his own island, the king chose a quiet and

retired part of the shore, and there he landed the children in charge

of his own attendant, telling him to keep them hidden till he sent him

word to appear with them at court.

The fleet then departed and cast anchor at the usual landing-place.

Here the queen, arrayed in her richest garments and attended by all her

maidens, came down to welcome the king, expressing great joy at his

return.

The king appeared well pleased to be at home again.

“But where are the children?” he asked; “and why have they not come to

meet me, as they always do?”

“Alas, alas!” cried the queen, putting her handkerchief to her eyes as

if to hide her tears, but really because she was afraid to look at the

king. “Poor, poor children! Pray do not speak of them! Soon after you

went away, they suddenly got very ill, and though I watched and nursed

them myself, the poor little things both died!” and Guda began to sob

and cry in reality, for she greatly feared what the king might do if he

ever heard the truth.

And no one dared say a word; for during the king’s absence Guda, urged

on by fear of her mother if she did not get rid of her stepchildren,

and also thinking that she could only govern by making herself feared,

had ruled the kingdom with great severity, so no one dared say a word

against her, believing that the king was still devoted to her.

The king, wishing to get at the truth of the strange tale, pretended

great sorrow at the news of the children’s death.

“And where are the poor little things buried?” he asked. “I should like

to see their tomb.”

The queen tried to persuade him not to go. She said she was sure it

would only increase his sorrow, and entreated him to desist.

But the more she urged him not to go, the more determined he was to see

their tomb.

So at length Guda yielded, and herself accompanied him to the wood at

the back of the palace, where, in a pretty open glade, she had caused a

handsome mausoleum to be erected.

He greatly admired the beautiful carving on the stone, but he never

shed a tear, which somewhat surprised the queen. Soon after they both

returned to the palace, where the queen had had a banquet prepared to

welcome home the travellers.

All during the feast the king still remained very silent and

preoccupied, and next morning he again went to the mausoleum, and then

said he meant to have the children’s coffins taken out.

When the queen heard this, she threw herself on her knees before the

king, and begged and entreated him not to thus further increase his

pain and grief. But the king remained firm. The door of the great

mausoleum was thrown back, and two small coffins, handsomely ornamented

with gold and silver, were brought forth. But, behold, when at the

king’s order these were opened, instead of containing the bodies of the

two children, they were filled up with stones!

The queen gave a great cry when she saw her wickedness had come to

light. She fell down at the king’s feet, and, sobbing and praying for

mercy, she confessed what she had done, adding that her mother, the old

witch, had forced her to do it.

But the king was so angry that he would not listen to her words, and

ordered her to be shut up in the castle donjon till the Volkthing

decided what her punishment should be.

Meanwhile Thorwald and Ingibjörg arrived at the palace, the king having

sent a messenger for them, and great was the rejoicing among the people

when they learnt their young prince and princess, whom they thought

dead, were alive and once again among them all.

The children then told their story before the assembled nobles and

vikings, and when Ingibjörg related how Thorwald had killed the old

ogress, who had only been fattening them up in order to eat them, there

was a flash of lightning, and a loud crash of thunder resounded through

the great hall. The door at the lower end opened, and, to the surprise

of every one, the queen, draped in a long glistening white robe, walked

up the hall, and falling down at the king’s feet, she raised her

clasped hands towards him.

“Pardon and forgiveness, oh king!” she cried. “The spell that has

nearly cost me my life, is at length broken! That terrible old ogress

was not my mother, but a wicked fairy who, because she thought my

mother had not treated her as well as the other fairies at my

christening, condemned me as soon as my mother died, to serve her and

obey all her behests as long as she lived. Now that your brave boy has

killed her, I am freed from her wicked spells. And now, oh my king,

punish me for the harm I have so unwillingly done; but, oh, let me live

to prove my gratitude to you and yours!”

Great was the surprise of every one at the queen’s story, and the

ambassadors then recalled to mind how silent and grave the young queen

had been when they first saw her, even while she did all the old witch

ordered her to do.

Thorwald also added his entreaties to those of the queen, and when

Ingibjörg with a merry laugh threw one arm round her father and the

other round the queen, the king relented. And thereupon the interrupted

feast was renewed amid general rejoicing, the queen seated at the

king’s right hand with Thorwald beside her, and Ingibjörg on his left

hand.

There was no happier family in all the land. Queen Guda, having no

children of her own, lavished all her affection on Thorwald and

Ingibjörg, whose entreaties had restored her to her husband, and the

reign of the king and Queen Guda was ever after cited as one of the

longest and happiest ever known.