Tatterhood
Page 7
Ho ho! thought the girl. Trick me, would they! while aloud she said, ‘Really? He must mean the little yellow mare, then. Go on and take her, she’s tethered on the other side of the field.’
The boy untied the mare, leapt on her back and galloped back up the hill, while the girl chuckled and went on with her work.
The boy ran in to the squire where he was waiting with the priest.
‘Well! Did you bring her?’ the squire demanded.
‘She’s standing down by the door,’ said the boy.
‘Then take her up to the loft,’ said the squire, ‘zip snappy!’
‘Up to the – ? What?’ said the boy.
‘Do as I say!’ roared the squire. ‘And if you can’t manage alone, get the farmhands to help you.’ For he knew how mulish the girl was, and if she were being stubborn, it would take more than one lad to haul her up.
The boy took one look at his master’s purple face and knew there was little point arguing, so he mustered the farmhands and they dragged the pony inside. Some pulled from the front, and some shoved from behind, and with much thundering, heaving and cursing, they got the mare into the loft where all the wedding finery was laid out, starched and bright.
No sooner was the mare upstairs than the boy was back down again.
‘I’ve done that, too,’ he told the squire, ‘but it was a struggle all right.’
‘Yes, yes,’ blustered the squire. ‘I wouldn’t have made you do it for nothing. Now, send up the wenches, quick smart, and have her decorated as bride.’
‘Decorate her! What … ?’
‘None of your lip!’ roared the squire, beside himself with excitement. ‘I want her dressed, and dress her they shall! And don’t forget so much as a ribbon, or there’ll be …’
The lad shot out to the bakehouse.
‘Listen, girls,’ he said. ‘The squire wants you upstairs to decorate the yellow mare as bride. But don’t ask questions – he’s in an ugly mood today.’
Well, the wenches dusted the flour off their hands, went upstairs and draped all there was on the little mare – underskirt, apron, ribbons and wreath. Then the boy zipped down to the squire to tell him she was ready.
‘Well and good, bring her down!’ said the squire. ‘I’ll lead her through the door myself.’
The stairs rumbled like summer thunder and the walls quaked. She wasn’t stepping down in silken shoes, not this bride.
The squire, sweating and red, grinned at his guests.
‘Round as an apple,’ he shouted over the noise, ‘and strong as an ox.’
But it was neither apple nor ox that burst through the door – and it certainly wasn’t the farmer’s daughter.
With a snort and a stamp, the little mare stormed into the room …and the only thing redder than the ribbons on her ears was the squire’s own gaping face.
Well, there was no lack of chuckling at the squire’s house that day, and the chuckling hasn’t stopped yet. In fact, if you know where to listen, you can still hear folks laughing up amongst those hills – and the farmer’s girl laughs loudest of all.
Author’s note
I once thought folk tale heroines were sad young women who suffered a lot and waited to be rescued by kings or princes. But when I read the Norwegian folk tales, I discovered a bunch of girls who marched into the world and sorted things out for themselves.
The stories in this book were originally collected in the middle of last century by two young men called Peter Asbjørnsen and Jørgen Moe. They travelled, often on foot, through the country regions of southern Norway looking for traditional storytellers and writing down the tales these people told them.
From the 148 tales in the collection, I chose the nine which excited me most – stories whose heroines were the smartest, bravest and boldest girls I’d come across in the world of folk tale.
Some of these tales may seem familiar. ‘Splintersmock’ is the Norwegian version of ‘Cinderella’. ‘Bold, But Not Too Bold’ can be found in the Brothers Grimm as ‘The Robber Bridegroom’. ‘When the Hen Went into the Hill’ has an Italian counterpart called ‘Silver Nose’, while ‘Whitebear’ comes from an ancient tradition of tales which started with the ancient Greek story of ‘Cupid and Psyche’. There is just one other version of ‘Tatterhood’ – an English folk tale called ‘Kate Crackernuts’–but I haven’t yet discovered a sister story to ‘The Goosegirl’. As for ‘The Squire’s Bride’, it is one of a kind!
When I read these tales in Norwegian, they seemed to be coming straight from the mouths of the mountain peasants who first told them. In translating and then retelling them, I’ve tried to keep the lively, no-nonsense tone of the originals. Some of the tales have been slightly altered: some have details left out and some have new details woven in – but they all celebrate the spirit of the hardy young women whose stories they tell.
I have grown to love these girls – and I hope that you have too!
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