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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.
Habogi
from the Brown Fairy Book
Story Edited
by Andrew Lang |
