“Oh, dear me,” said his father, “you’re nothing but bad luck! Get out of my sight. I never want to set eyes on you again.”
“Very well, Father, anything you say. Just wait until day and I’ll set out to learn to learn what fear is. Then at least I’ll know a trade that will earn me a living.”
“Learn what you like,” said his father, “I don’t care. Here are fifty talers. Take them, go out into the world, and don’t put me to shame by telling a soul where you come from or who your father is.”
“Very well, Father,” said the boy. “If that’s all you want, I can easily remember it.”
So when day dawned the boy put his fifty talers in his pocket and started out along the high road, saying to himself out loud all the time, “Oh, if only I could shudder with fear! If only I knew what fear is!”
A man caught up with the boy and heard him talking to himself, and when they had gone a little further and a gallows came in sight, the man said to him, “Look, there’s the tree where seven men married the ropemaker’s daughter, and now they’re learning to fly. Sit down under it and wait for night, and you’ll soon learn what fear is.”
“If that’s all there is to it, it’s easily done,” said the boy. “And if I learn what fear is so quickly then you can have my fifty talers. Come back and see me tomorrow morning.”
So the boy went over to the gallows, sat down underneath it and waited for evening to come. It was chilly, so he lit a fire, but around midnight such a cold wind blew that in spite of the fire he couldn’t get warm. And when the wind moved the hanged men in the air, and made them bump into each other, he thought: If I’m cold down by this fire, then those poor fellows dangling up there must be freezing.
He felt so sorry for them that he put up a ladder, climbed it, untied the nooses around the hanged men’s necks one by one and brought all seven down. After that he stirred up the fire, blew on the flames and settled them around it to get warm. But there they sat, never moving, until the fire set their clothes alight. “Mind what you’re doing, or I shall hang you up again,” said the boy. However, the dead men couldn’t hear him. They gave no answer and let their rags go on burning. So the boy grew angry with them and said, “If you can’t take better care of yourselves there’s nothing I can do for you. I don’t want to burn too.” And he hung them all up on the gallows again one by one. Then he lay down by his fire and went to sleep.
Next morning the man came back hoping for the fifty talers. “Well,” he asked, “have you learnt to shudder with fear now?”
“No, how could I?” said the boy. “Those fellows up there never opened their mouths, and they were stupid enough to let the few old rags they’re wearing catch fire.”
The man saw that he wasn’t going to get the fifty talers today, so off he went, saying to himself: I never met such an oddity before.
The boy went on his way too, and once again he began saying to himself, “Oh, if only I could shudder with fear! If only I knew what fear is.”
A carter coming up the road behind him overheard what he was saying and asked, “Who are you?”
“I don’t know,” said the boy.
“Well, where do you come from?” asked the carter.
“I don’t know.”
“Who’s your father, then?”
“I mustn’t say.”
“And what’s that you keep muttering to yourself?”
“Oh,” said the boy, “I want to learn to shudder with fear, but no one can teach me how.”
“Don’t talk such nonsense,” said the carter. “Come along with me, and I’ll find you a place to sleep.”
The boy went with the carter, and in the evening they reached an inn and decided to spend the night there. As they went in the boy said again, “Oh, if only I could shudder with fear! If only I knew what fear is.”
Hearing him, the landlord laughed and said, “If that’s what you want, then this is your big chance.”
“Oh, do be quiet,” said the landlord’s wife. “So many rash folk have already lost their lives. It would be a shame for a fine young man like this never to see the light of day again.”
But the boy said, “However hard it is to shudder with fear, I really want to learn. That’s why I’m on my travels.”
And he would give the landlord no peace, but pestered him to say what he meant. Not far from there, the landlord told him, there was a haunted castle, and anyone who spent three nights in it was bound to learn what fear is. The King had promised his daughter’s hand in marriage to anyone who dared to do it, and the Princess was the loveliest girl in the world. This castle, said the landlord, was full of treasures, enough to make a poor man rich, but they were guarded by evil spirits. Many men had already gone into the castle, but none of them ever came out again.
Next morning the boy went to see the King and said, “I’d like to spend three nights in the haunted castle, Your Majesty.”
The King looked at the boy and liked him, so he said, “You may ask for three gifts to take into the castle with you, but they mustn’t be living things.”
“In that case,” said the boy, “I’ll have a fire, a lathe and a woodworker’s bench with a clamp and knife.”
The King had all these things brought to the castle by daylight. As darkness began to fall, the boy went in, lit a bright fire in one of the rooms of the castle, put the woodworker’s bench and the knife beside the fire, and sat down at the lathe. “Oh, if only I knew what fear is!” he said. “But I don’t suppose I shall learn here either.”
Around midnight, as he was about to stir up the fire and was blowing on it, he heard a sudden yowling from a corner. “Meow, meow! Oh, we’re so cold!”
“Then why are you making such a noise about it, you fools?” called the boy. “If you’re cold, come and sit down by my fire and get warm.”
When he had said that, two big black cats came leaping up, sat down one on each side of him and stared fiercely at him with their fiery eyes. After a while, when they were warmer, they said, “How about a game of cards, friend?”
“Why not?” said the boy. “But show me your paws first.”
The cats put out their paws.
“My word, what long nails you have!” said the boy, seeing their claws. “Wait a moment, I must trim them for you first.” So saying, he took the cats by the scruff of the neck, put them on the woodworker’s bench and clamped their paws down. “Now that I’ve seen your fingers,” he said, “I don’t think I fancy a game of cards with you after all.” So he killed them and threw them into the water of the lake outside the castle.
But once he had dealt with those two monsters and was going to sit down by his fire again, black cats and black dogs on red-hot fiery chains came pouring out of every nook and cranny, more and more of them, and he couldn’t fend them off. They howled horribly and trampled over his fire, scattering the embers and trying to put it out. He sat and watched for a while, but when he felt they had gone too far he picked up his knife and said, “Get away from here, you nuisances!” and made for them. Some ran away, and he killed the others and threw them into the lake. Then he came back, blew up the sparks of his fire again and warmed himself.
As he sat there his eyelids began to close, and he felt sleepy. Looking around, he saw a big bed in a corner. “Just what I need,” said he, lying down in it. But as he was about to close his eyes the bed began moving of its own accord, and it went all around the castle. “Go on then,” said the boy, “keep it up.” Then the bed went faster than ever, as if six horses were harnessed to it, through doorways and up and down stairs, and suddenly it turned over and fell on top of him like a mountain. However, he threw off the blankets and pillows and clambered out. “Well, anyone else who likes may ride in you now!” he said, and he lay down by his fire and slept until it was day.
Next morning the King came in. When he saw him lying there on the floor, he thought that the ghosts had killed him, and he was dead. “What a shame,” said the King, “what a shame about that fin
e young man!”
Hearing him, the boy sat up and said, “Oh, I’m not dead yet.”
The King was astonished, but very glad too, and asked how he had passed the night.
“Very well,” said the boy. “That’s one night gone, and the other two will soon be over as well.”
When he went back to the inn the landlord stared in surprise. “I never thought to see you alive again,” he said. “Well, have you learnt what fear is yet?”
“No,” said the boy, “it’s useless. I only wish someone could tell me.”
On the second night he went back to the old castle, sat down by his fire and took up the same old refrain: “Oh, if only I could shudder with fear!” As midnight approached there was a noise and a clattering, quiet at first but then louder and louder, and at last half of a man came tumbling down the chimney with a great shout and landed in front of him.
“Hello there!” said the boy. “There’s not enough of you. You need your other half.”
Then the noise began again. There was a howling and a roaring, and the other half of the man fell down the chimney.
“Wait a minute,” said the boy. “I’ll just blow up the fire for you.” And when he had done so and looked around, the two halves had joined together, and he saw a fearsome figure of a man sitting on his bench.
“That’s not part of the deal,” said the boy. “This bench is mine.” The man tried to shove him aside, but the boy was having none of that. He pushed him off by force and sat down in his own place again. Then more men came tumbling down the chimney one by one. They had nine human leg bones and two human skulls with them, and they stood the bones up and began playing skittles. The boy thought he would like to play too, and asked, “Hey there, you, can I join in?”
“Yes, if you have any money.”
“Oh, I have enough money,” said the boy, “but your balls aren’t really round.” So he took the skulls, put them on the lathe and turned them until they were round as balls. “There, now they’ll roll better,” he said, “so off we go!”
He played skittles with the men, and lost some of his money to them, but when midnight struck they and their skittles disappeared. Then he lay down and went to sleep.
Next morning the King came to see how he was. “Well, what happened this time?” he asked.
“I played a game of skittles,” said the boy, “and I lost a little money.”
“Didn’t you shudder with fear, then?”
“No,” said the boy, “it was good fun. Oh, if only I knew what it was like to shudder with fear!”
On the third night he sat down on his bench once more and said very sadly, “Oh, if only I knew what fear is!” As time went on, six tall men came in carrying a coffin on a stretcher. “My word,” said the boy, “that must be my cousin who died only a couple of days ago.” And he beckoned to the coffin and said, “Come over here, cousin, come over here!”
The men put the coffin down, and he went over and lifted the lid. There was a dead man lying inside it. The boy felt the corpse’s face, and it was cold as ice. “Wait a minute,” he said. “I’ll warm you up a bit.” And he went over to the fire, warmed his own hand and laid it on the dead man’s face, but the corpse was still cold. So he took the body out of the coffin, held it on his lap and rubbed its arms to get the blood circulating again. When that didn’t help either, it occurred to him that two people can warm each other up by lying in bed together. So he put the corpse in the bed, covered it up and lay down beside it. After a while the dead man warmed up and began to move.
“There now, cousin,” said the boy, “didn’t I get you nice and warm?”
But the dead man stood up and said, “Now I’m going to strangle you!”
“Is that all the thanks I get?” said the boy. “Right, back you go into your coffin.” And he picked the dead man up, threw him into the coffin and closed the lid. The six men came back and carried it away again.
“I just can’t seem to shudder,” said the boy. “I’ll never learn what fear is here.”
Then a man came in who looked larger and more terrible than all the others. He was old, with a long white beard. “Now, you wretch,” said the man, “now you’ll learn what fear is, for you are about to die!”
“Not so fast,” said the boy. “If I’m about to die I ought to know more about it.”
“Just wait till I catch hold of you,” said the monster.
“Gently, gently, take it easy. I’m as strong as you and even stronger.”
“We’ll see about that,” said the old man. “If you turn out to be stronger than me then I’ll let you go.” And he led him along dark passageways to a forge where a fire was burning, picked up an axe and struck one of the two anvils in the forge so hard that it went right down into the ground.
“I can do better than that,” said the boy, going over to the other anvil. The old man stood behind him to watch, with his white beard hanging down. The boy picked up the axe, split the anvil with a single blow and caught and wedged the old man’s beard in it. “Now I have you where I want you,” said the boy, “and you’re the one about to die.”
With these words he picked up an iron bar and beat the old man until he was whimpering and begging him to stop, promising him great riches in return.
The boy took the axe out of the anvil and let him go. Then the old man led him back into the castle and showed him three chests full of gold in a cellar. “One of these is for the poor,” he said, “the second is for the King, and the third is for you.”
At that moment midnight struck and the spirit disappeared, leaving the boy in the dark. “I expect I can find my own way out of here,” he said, groping around until he found the way back to his room, where he lay down by the fire and went to sleep.
Next morning, along came the King. “Well,” he said, “I expect you’ve learnt what fear is by now.”
“I’m afraid not,” said the boy. “What can it be like? My dead cousin paid me a visit, and a man with a beard came and showed me a great deal of money down in the cellar, but no one’s told me how to shudder with fear.”
“You have broken the spell on the castle,” said the King, “and you can have my daughter as your wife.”
“That’s all very well,” replied the boy, “but I still don’t know what fear is.”
Then the gold was brought up from the cellar and the young couple were married, but dearly as the new Prince loved his wife and happy as he was with her, he still kept saying, “Oh, if only I could shudder with fear! If only I knew what fear is.”
After a while this made the Princess very sad. Then her lady’s maid said, “I can help you, and then he’ll soon learn to shudder and know what fear is.”
She went out to the stream that flowed through the palace gardens, and filled a bucket with water and little fish. That night, when the young Prince was asleep, his wife pulled back the covers and tipped the bucket full of fish and cold water over him. The little fish flapped about in the bed, and he woke up and cried, “Oh, how I’m shuddering, dear wife, how my flesh creeps! At long, long last I know what fear is.”
THE WOLF AND THE SEVEN LITTLE KIDS
THE WOLF AND THE SEVEN LITTLE KIDS
ONCE UPON A TIME there was an old nanny-goat who had seven little kids, and she loved them as dearly as any mother loves her children. One day she wanted to go out into the forest and search for food, so she gathered all seven around her and said, “Dear children, I’m going into the forest, and mind you keep your eyes open for the wolf, because if he gets in he’ll eat you up, hair and skin and all. That wicked wolf often disguises himself, but you can always tell him at once by his gruff voice and his black paws.”
“We’ll be very careful, dear Mother,” said the little kids. “You just go out, and don’t worry.”
Then the old nanny-goat bleated, and went out with her mind at rest.
It wasn’t long before someone knocked on the front door of the house and cried, “Open the door, dear children, here’s your moth
er back with something nice for each of you.” But the little kids heard that gruff voice, and knew it was the wolf.
“We’re not opening the door,” they said. “You’re not our mother. She has a soft, kind voice, but your voice is gruff. You’re the wolf.”
So the wolf went away to a shop, bought a big piece of chalk and ate it to soften his voice. Then he came back, knocked on the door of the house again and cried, “Open the door, dear children, here’s your mother back with something nice for each of you.” However, the wolf had put his black paws up on the window sill, and when the kids saw them they cried, “We’re not opening the door. Our mother doesn’t have black paws like you. You’re the wolf.”
So then the wolf went off to a baker and said, “I’ve hurt my paws, please put some dough over them.” And when the baker had covered his paws with dough, he went off to the miller and said, “Sprinkle some white flour on my paws.” The miller thought: The wolf is planning to trick someone. So he refused, but the wolf said, “If you don’t do as I say I’ll eat you.” On hearing those words the miller sprinkled white flour over the wolf ’s paws because he was afraid. That’s human nature for you.
Then the wicked wolf went back to the door of the house for the third time, knocked at it and cried, “Open the door, dear children, here’s your mother back with something nice for each of you.”
“Show us your paws,” called the little kids. “Then we’ll know whether you’re our mother.”
So he put his paws up on the window sill, and when the little kids saw that they were white, they thought that everything he said was true, and they opened the door. But it was not their mother but the wolf who came in. They were terrified, and tried to hide. One of them got under the table, the second jumped into bed, the third into the stove, the fourth ran into the kitchen, the fifth hid in the wardrobe, the sixth hid under the china wash basin and the seventh climbed into the case of the grandfather clock standing against the wall. However, the wolf found them all, and without more ado he swallowed them one by one. All except for the seventh, who was hiding in the case of the clock—he didn’t find the seventh and youngest little kid. When the wolf had satisfied his appetite, he strolled away, lay down under a tree in the green meadow outside the house and fell fast asleep.
The Juniper Tree and Other Tales Page 2
