Habogi
Once
upon a time there lived two peasants who had three daughters, and, as generally
happens, the youngest was the most beautiful and the best tempered, and when
her sisters wanted to go out she was always ready to stay at home and do their
work.
Years
passed quickly with the whole family, and one day the parents suddenly
perceived that all three girls were grown up, and that very soon they would be
thinking of marriage.
'Have
you decided what your husband's name is to be?' said the father, laughingly, to
his eldest daughter, one evening when they were all sitting at the door of
their cottage. 'You know that is a very important point!'
'Yes;
I will never wed any man who is not called Sigmund,' answered she.
'Well,
it is lucky for you that there are a great many Sigmunds in this part of the
world,' replied her father, 'so that you can take your choice! And what do YOU
say?' he added, turning to the second.
'Oh,
I think that there is no name so beautiful as Sigurd,' cried she.
'Then
you won't be an old maid either,' answered he. 'There are seven Sigurds in the
next village alone! And you, Helga?'
Helga,
who was still the prettiest of the three, looked up. She also had her favourite
name, but, just as she was going to say it, she seemed to hear a voice whisper:
'Marry no one who is not called Habogi.'
The
girl had never heard of such a name, and did not like it, so she determined to
pay no attention; but as she opened her mouth to tell her father that her
husband must be called Njal, she found herself answering instead: 'If I do
marry it will be to no one except Habogi.'
'Who
IS Habogi?' asked her father and sisters; 'We never heard of such a person.'
'All
I can tell you is that he will be my husband, if ever I have one,' returned
Helga; and that was all she would say.
Before
very long the young men who lived in the neighbouring villages or on the sides
of the mountains, had heard of this talk of the three girls, and Sigmunds and
Sigurds in scores came to visit the little cottage. There were other young men
too, who bore different names, though not one of them was called 'Habogi,' and
these thought that they might perhaps gain the heart of the youngest. But
though there was more than one 'Njal' amongst them, Helga's eyes seemed always
turned another way.
At
length the two elder sisters made their choice from out of the Sigurds and the
Sigmunds, and it was decided that both weddings should take place at the same
time. Invitations were sent out to the friends and relations, and when, on the
morning of the great day, they were all assembled, a rough, coarse old peasant
left the crowd and came up to the brides' father.
'My
name is Habogi, and Helga must be my wife,' was all he said. And though Helga
stood pale and trembling with surprise, she did not try to run away.
'I
cannot talk of such things just now,' answered the father, who could not bear
the thought of giving his favourite daughter to this horrible old man, and
hoped, by putting it off, that something might happen. But the sisters, who had
always been rather jealous of Helga, were secretly pleased that their
bridegrooms should outshine hers.
When
the feast was over, Habogi led up a beautiful horse from a field where he had
left it to graze, and bade Helga jump up on its splendid saddle, all
embroidered in scarlet and gold. 'You shall come back again,' said he; 'but now
you must see the house that you are to live in.' And though Helga was very
unwilling to go, something inside her forced her to obey.
The old
man settled her comfortably, then sprang up in front of her as easily as if he
had been a boy, and, shaking the reins, they were soon out of sight.
After
some miles they rode through a meadow with grass so green that Helga's eyes
felt quite dazzled; and feeding on the grass were a quantity of large fat
sheep, with the curliest and whitest wool in the world.
'What
lovely sheep! whose are they?' cried Helga.
'Your
Habogi's,' answered he, 'all that you see belongs to him; but the finest sheep
in the whole herd, which has little golden bells hanging between its horns, you
shall have for yourself.'
This
pleased Helga very much, for she had never had anything of her own; and she
smiled quite happily as she thanked Habogi for his present.
They
soon left the sheep behind them, and entered a large field with a river running
through it, where a number of beautiful grey cows were standing by a gate
waiting for a milk-maid to come and milk them.
'Oh,
what lovely cows!' cried Helga again; 'I am sure their milk must be sweeter
than any other cows. How I should like to have some! I wonder to whom they
belong?'
'To
your Habogi,' replied he; 'and some day you shall have as much milk as you
like, but we cannot stop now. Do you see that big grey one, with the silver
bells between her horns? That is to be yours, and you can have her milked every
morning the moment you wake.'
And
Helga's eyes shone, and though she did not say anything, she thought that she
would learn to milk the cow herself.
A
mile further on they came to a wide common, with short, springy turf, where
horses of all colours, with skins of satin, were kicking up their heels in
play. The sight of them so delighted Helga that she nearly sprang from her
saddle with a shriek of joy.
'Whose
are they?' Oh! whose are they?' she asked. 'How happy any man must be who is
the master of such lovely creatures!'
'They
are your Habogi's,' replied he, 'and the one which you think the most beautiful
of all you shall have for yourself, and learn to ride him.'
At
this Helga quite forgot the sheep and the cow.
'A
horse of my own!' said she. 'Oh, stop one moment, and let me see which I will
choose. The white one? No. The chestnut? No. I think, after all, I like the
coal-black one best, with the little white star on his forehead. Oh, do stop,
just for a minute.'
But
Habogi would not stop or listen. 'When you are married you will have plenty of
time to choose one,' was all he answered, and they rode on two or three miles
further.
At
length Habogi drew rein before a small house, very ugly and mean-looking, and
that seemed on the point of tumbling to pieces.
'This
is my house, and is to be yours,' said Habogi, as he jumped down and held out
his arms to lift Helga from the horse. The girl's heart sank a little, as she
thought that the man who possessed such wonderful sheep, and cows, and horses,
might have built himself a prettier place to live in; but she did not say so.
And, taking her arm, he led her up the steps.
But
when she got inside, she stood quite bewildered at the beauty of all around
her. None of her friends owned such things, not even the miller, who was the
richest man she knew. There were carpets everywhere, thick and soft, and of
deep rich colours; and the cushions were of silk, and made you sleepy even to
look at them; and curious little figures in china were scattered about. Helga
felt as if it would take her all her life to see everything properly, and it
only seemed a second since she had entered the house, when Habogi came up to
her.
'I
must begin the preparations for our wedding at once,' he said; 'but my
foster-brother will take you home, as I promised. In three days he will bring
you back here, with your parents and sisters, and any guests you may invite, in
your company. By that time the feast will be ready.'
Helga
had so much to think about, that the ride home appeared very short. Her father
and mother were delighted to see her, as they did not feel sure that so ugly
and cross-looking a man as Habogi might not have played her some cruel trick.
And after they had given her some supper they begged her to tell them all she
had done. But Helga only told them that they should see for themselves on the
third day, when they would come to her wedding.
It
was very early in the morning when the party set out, and Helga's two sisters
grew green with envy as they passed the flocks of sheep, and cows, and horses,
and heard that the best of each was given to Helga herself; but when they
caught sight of the poor little house which was to be her home their hearts
grew light again.
'I
should be ashamed of living in such a place,' whispered each to the other; and
the eldest sister spoke of the carved stone over HER doorway, and the second
boasted of the number of rooms SHE had. But the moment they went inside they
were struck dumb with rage at the splendour of everything, and their faces grew
white and cold with fury when they saw the dress which Habogi had prepared for
his bride--a dress that glittered like sunbeams dancing upon ice.
'She
SHALL not look so much finer than us,' they cried passionately to each other as
soon as they were alone; and when night came they stole out of their rooms, and
taking out the wedding-dress, they laid it in the ash-pit, and heaped ashes
upon it. But Habogi, who knew a little magic, and had guessed what they would
do, changed the ashes into roses, and cast a spell over the sisters, so that
they could not leave the spot for a whole day, and every one who passed by
mocked at them.
The
next morning when they all awoke the ugly tumble-down house had disappeared,
and in its place stood a splendid palace. The guests' eyes sought in vain for
the bridegroom, but could only see a handsome young man, with a coat of blue
velvet and silver and a gold crown upon his head.
'Who
is that?' they asked Helga.
'That
is my Habogi,' said she.
[From
Neuislandischem Volksmarcher.]
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