Andrew Lang_Fairy Book 08 (16 page)

'Who knows?' cried Dame Ilse at last, 'the wretch may have been
idling in some tavern since early morning.'

Then a sudden thought startled her, and she felt for her keys.
Suppose they had fallen into her good-for-nothing husband's hands
and he had helped himself to her treasure! But no, the keys were
safe in their usual place, and the cupboard looked quite untouched.
Mid-day came, then evening, then midnight, and still no Master
Peter appeared, and the matter became really serious. Dame Ilse
knew right well what a torment she had been to her husband, and
remorse caused her the gloomiest forebodings.

'Ah! Lucia,' she cried, 'I greatly fear that your father has done
himself a mischief.' And they sat till morning weeping over their
own fancies.

As soon as it was light they searched every corner of the house
again, and examined every nail in the wall and every beam; but,
luckily, Master Peter was not hanging from any of them. After that
the neighbours went out with long poles to fish in every ditch and
pond, but they found nothing, and then Dame Ilse gave up the idea
of ever seeing her husband again and very soon consoled herself,
only wondering how the sacks of corn were to be carried to the mill
in future. She decided to buy a strong ass to do the work, and
having chosen one, and after some bargaining with the owner as to
its price, she went to the cupboard in the wall to fetch the money.
But what were her feelings when she perceived that every shelf lay
empty and bare before her! For a moment she stood bewildered,
then broke into such frightful ravings that Lucia ran to her in alarm;
but as soon as she heard of the disappearance of the money she was
heartily glad, and no longer feared that her father had come to any
harm, but understood that he must have gone out into the world to
seek his fortune in some new way.

About a month after this, someone knocked at Dame Ilse's door
one day, and she went to see if it was a customer for meal; but in
stepped a handsome young man, dressed like a duke's son, who
greeted her respectfully, and asked after her pretty daughter as if he
were an old friend, though she could not remember having ever set
eyes upon him before.

However, she invited him to step into the house and be seated while
he unfolded his business. With a great air of mystery he begged
permission to speak to the fair Lucia, of whose skill in needlework
he had heard so much, as he had a commission to give her. Dame
Ilse had her own opinion as to what kind of commission it was
likely to be—brought by a young stranger to a pretty maiden;
however, as the meeting would be under her own eye, she made no
objection, but called to her industrious daughter, who left off
working and came obediently; but when she saw the stranger she
stopped short, blushing, and casting down her eyes. He looked at
her fondly, and took her hand, which she tried to draw away,
crying:

'Ah! Friedlin, why are you here? I thought you were a hundred
miles away. Are you come to grieve me again?'

'No, dearest girl,' answered he; 'I am come to complete your
happiness and my own. Since we last met my fortune has utterly
changed; I am no longer the poor vagabond that I was then. My
rich uncle has died, leaving me money and goods in plenty, so that I
dare to present myself to your mother as a suitor for your hand.
That I love you I know well; if you can love me I am indeed a
happy man.'

Lucia's pretty blue eyes had looked up shyly as he spoke, and now a
smile parted her rosy lips; and she stole a glance at her mother to
see what she thought about it all; but the dame stood lost in
amazement to find that her daughter, whom she could have
declared had never been out of her sight, was already well
acquainted with the handsome stranger, and quite willing to be his
bride. Before she had done staring, this hasty wooer had smoothed
his way by covering the shining table with gold pieces as a wedding
gift to the bride's mother, and had filled Lucia's apron into the
bargain; after which the dame made no difficulties, and the matter
was speedily settled.

While Ilse gathered up the gold and hid it away safely, the lovers
whispered together, and what Friedlin told her seemed to make
Lucia every moment more happy and contented.

Now a great hurry-burly began in the house, and preparations for
the wedding went on apace. A few days later a heavily laden
waggon drove up, and out of it came so many boxes and bales that
Dame Ilse was lost in wonder at the wealth of her future
son-in-law. The day for the wedding was chosen, and all their
friends and neighbours were bidden to the feast. As Lucia was
trying on her bridal wreath she said to her mother: 'This
wedding-garland would please me indeed if father Peter could lead
me to the church. If only he could come back again! Here we are
rolling in riches while he may be nibbling at hunger's table.' And the
very idea of such a thing made her weep, while even Dame Ilse
said:

'I should not be sorry myself to see him come back—there is always
something lacking in a house when the good man is away.'

But the fact was that she was growing quite tired of having no one
to scold. And what do you think happened?

On the very eve of the wedding a man pushing a wheelbarrow
arrived at the city gate, and paid toll upon a barrel of nails which it
contained, and then made the best of his way to the bride's dwelling
and knocked at the door.

The bride herself peeped out of the window to see who it could be,
and there stood father Peter! Then there was great rejoicing in the
house; Lucia ran to embrace him, and even Dame Ilse held out her
hand in welcome, and only said: 'Rogue, mend your ways,' when
she remembered the empty treasure cupboard. Father Peter greeted
the bridegroom, looking at him shrewdly, while the mother and
daughter hastened to say all they knew in his favour, and appeared
to be satisfied with him as a son-in-law. When Dame Ilse had set
something to eat before her husband, she was curious to hear his
adventures, and questioned him eagerly as to why he had gone
away.

'God bless my native place,' said he. 'I have been marching through
the country, and have tried every kind of work, but now I have
found a job in the iron trade; only, so far, I have put more into it
than I have earned by it. This barrel of nails is my whole fortune,
which I wish to give as my contribution towards the bride's house
furnishing.'

This speech roused Dame Ilse to anger, and she broke out into such
shrill reproaches that the bystanders were fairly deafened, and
Friedlin hastily offered Master Peter a home with Lucia and himself,
promising that he should live in comfort, and be always welcome.
So Lucia had her heart's desire, and father Peter led her to the
church next day, and the marriage took place very happily. Soon
afterwards the young people settled in a fine house which Friedlin
had bought, and had a garden and meadows, a fishpond, and a hill
covered with vines, and were as happy as the day was long. Father
Peter also stayed quietly with them, living, as everybody believed,
upon the generosity of his rich son-in law. No one suspected that
his barrel of nails was the real 'Horn of Plenty,' from which all this
prosperity overflowed.

Peter had made the journey to the treasure mountain successfully,
without being found out by anybody. He had enjoyed himself by
the way, and taken his own time, until he actually reached the little
brook in the valley which it had cost him some trouble to find.
Then he pressed on eagerly, and soon came to the little hollow in
the wood; down he went, burrowing like a mole into the earth; the
magic root did its work, and at last the treasure lay before his eyes.
You may imagine how gaily Peter filled his sack with as much gold
as he could carry, and how he staggered up the seventy-seven steps
with a heart full of hope and delight. He did not quite trust the
gnome's promises of safety, and was in such haste to find himself
once more in the light of day that he looked neither to the right nor
the left, and could not afterwards remember whether the walls and
pillars had sparkled with jewels or not.

However, all went well—he neither saw nor heard anything
alarming; the only thing that happened was that the great
iron-barred door shut with a crash as soon as he was fairly outside
it, and then he remembered that he had left the magic root behind
him, so he could not go back for another load of treasure. But even
that did not trouble Peter much; he was quite satisfied with what he
had already. After he had faithfully done everything according to
Father Martin's instructions, and pressed the earth well back into
the hollow, he sat down to consider how he could bring his treasure
back to his native place, and enjoy it there, without being forced to
share it with his scolding wife, who would give him no peace if she
once found out about it. At last, after much thinking, he hit upon a
plan. He carried his sack to the nearest village, and there bought a
wheelbarrow, a strong barrel, and a quantity of nails. Then he
packed his gold into the barrel, covered it well with a layer of nails,
hoisted it on to the wheelbarrow with some difficulty, and set off
with it upon his homeward way. At one place upon the road he met
a handsome young man who seemed by his downcast air to be in
some great trouble. Father Peter, who wished everybody to be as
happy as he was himself, greeted him cheerfully, and asked where
he was going, to which he answered sadly:

'Into the wide world, good father, or out of it, where ever my feet
may chance to carry me.'

'Why out of it?' said Peter. 'What has the world been doing to you?'

'It has done nothing to me, nor I to it,' he replied. 'Nevertheless
there is not anything left in it for me.'

Father Peter did his best to cheer the young man up, and invited
him to sup with him at the first inn they came to, thinking that
perhaps hunger and poverty were causing the stranger's trouble.
But when good food was set before him he seemed to forget to eat.
So Peter perceived that what ailed his guest was sorrow of heart,
and asked him kindly to tell him his story.

'Where is the good, father?' said he. 'You can give me neither help
nor comfort.'

'Who knows?' answered Master Peter. 'I might be able to do
something for you. Often enough in life help comes to us from the
most unexpected quarter.'

The young man, thus encouraged, began his tale.

'I am,' said he, 'a crossbow-man in the service of a noble count, in
whose castle I was brought up. Not long ago my master went on a
journey, and brought back with him, amongst other treasures, the
portrait of a fair maiden so sweet and lovely that I lost my heart at
first sight of it, and could think of nothing but how I might seek her
out and marry her. The count had told me her name, and where she
lived, but laughed at my love, and absolutely refused to give me
leave to go in search of her, so I was forced to run away from the
castle by night. I soon reached the little town where the maiden
dwelt; but there fresh difficulties awaited me. She lived under the
care of her mother, who was so severe that she was never allowed
to look out of the window, or set her foot outside the door alone,
and how to make friends with her I did not know. But at last I
dressed myself as an old woman, and knocked boldly at her door.
The lovely maiden herself opened it, and so charmed me that I came
near forgetting my disguise; but I soon recovered my wits, and
begged her to work a fine table-cloth for me, for she is reported to
be the best needlewoman in all the country round. Now I was free
to go and see her often under the presence of seeing how the work
was going oil, and one day, when her mother had gone to the town,
I ventured to throw off my disguise, and tell her of my love. She
was startled at first; but I persuaded her to listen to me, and I soon
saw that I was not displeasing to her, though she scolded me gently
for my disobedience to my master, and my deceit in disguising
myself. But when I begged her to marry me, she told me sadly that
her mother would scorn a penniless wooer, and implored me to go
away at once, lest trouble should fall upon her.

'Bitter as it was to me, I was forced to go when she bade me, and I
have wandered about ever since, with grief gnawing at my heart;
for how can a masterless man, without money or goods, ever hope
to win the lovely Lucia?'

Master Peter, who had been listening attentively, pricked up his
ears at the sound of his daughter's name, and very soon found out
that it was indeed with her that this young man was so deeply in
love.

'Your story is strange indeed,' said he. 'But where is the father of
this maiden—why do you not ask him for her hand? He might well
take your part, and be glad to have you for his son-in-law.'

'Alas!' said the young man, 'her father is a wandering
good-for-naught, who has forsaken wife and child, and gone off—
who knows where? The wife complains of him bitterly enough, and
scolds my dear maiden when she takes her father's part.'

Father Peter was somewhat amused by this speech; but he liked the
young man well, and saw that he was the very person he needed to
enable him to enjoy his wealth in peace, without being separated
from his dear daughter.

'If you will take my advice,' said he, 'I promise you that you shall
marry this maiden whom you love so much, and that before you are
many days older.'

'Comrade,' cried Friedlin indignantly, for he thought Peter did but
jest with him, 'it is ill done to mock at an unhappy man; you had
better find someone else who will let himself be taken in with your
fine promises.' And up he sprang, and was going off hastily, when
Master Peter caught him by the arm.

'Stay, hothead!' he cried; 'it is no jest, and I am prepared to make
good my words.'

Thereupon he showed him the treasure hidden under the nails, and
unfolded to him his plan, which was that Friedlin should play the
part of the rich son-in-law, and keep a still tongue, that they might
enjoy their wealth together in peace.