The Fairies and the Christmas Child

  Chapter X

  The Wild Huntsman.

  The forest paths were dappled with sunlight as Father and I strolleddown its winding glades, and all the wood things were chirping andchattering with joy. Now and then something brown and furry scuttledacross our path, and once I all but trod on a tiny mouse, who had hiddenherself under last year's leaves.

  "You clumsy boy!" said a tiny voice, and I turned in time to catch sightof a wee pink Elf as she sprang from the flower Father wore in hisbutton hole upon a bright blue butterfly which had been hovering aboveher for some time, and now darted swiftly away.

  After a while we came to an open space where the woodmen had beenfelling timber. Several great trees still lay on the ground; one wasparticularly straight and round, and I noticed three wide crosses cutdeep into the bark. I thought I would like to carve my name there too,for my knife had been most beautifully sharp since the _Nain Rouge_touched it, so when Father sat down soon afterward to read his letters,I went straight back to the spot. As I reached it I heard the distantbaying of hounds; the sound came nearer and nearer, and mingling withit were shouts in a strange deep voice, which almost frightened me.As I looked up, my knife was jerked out of my hand by a little womandressed in green, who pushed me breathlessly aside and sat down,sobbing bitterly, on the middle cross. I was still staring at her whenthere flashed through the air a huntsman on a fiery horse, followed bymany hounds. Their hurrying feet knocked off my cap and rumpled all myhair. They had passed in a second, and next moment I heard theirbaying far away.

  The little woman in green sobbed still, but she seemed to be growingcalmer. Her hair and eyes were a soft light grey, and her frock was mostprettily trimmed with tufts of moss.

  "Aha!" I thought when I noticed this, "you are one of the Moss-women,I've no doubt." For I knew that these were supposed to haunt the forestsof Southern Germany.

  "That was the Wild Huntsman," said the little thing, looking at metrustfully. "But for the kindness of the woodcutters who make thesemarks in the trees they fell, I should have fallen to his bow andspear. When we can find three crosses we are safe, for he dare not touchus then."

  I waited to hear what else she would say, for I thought of the Kobold's"_Why? Why? Why?_" and did not like to ask her questions. In a littlewhile her lips were smiling, and swaying to and fro, as a tree sways inthe wind, she began to sing. I knew I had heard that song before, but Icould not think where until I remembered that the pines which rustledagainst the windows of my night nursery had often sung it when I wassmall.

  "It's the song of the wind," she told me, "and the very first sound wehear. We are born in the roots of the tree which is to be our home, andwhen this dies, we must die too. So long as the sap runs through itsbranches, and the bark is not cut or injured, we are safe and sound inour snug recess, but at certain times we are bound to leave it, to seekfor food, or to attend our lords. It is then that we are in such gravedanger--and all because Elfrida tried her witcheries on a stranger."

  "What did she do?" I could not help asking.

  "I will tell you," said the Moss-woman sadly, "and then you willunderstand why even the youngest of us has now grey hair."

  The Wild Huntsman.

  "Elfrida was the fairest of our race," she sighed, "and her palace thetallest and straightest pine that ever raised its boughs to Heaven.When she left its shelter at early dawn to bathe in some sparklingstream, or seek for sweet berries in the thickets, the Flower-Elvesflocked to greet her; wild roses gave her their bloom for her ovalcheeks, and the violets scented her sunny hair. Wherever she passed, themoss grew a brighter green, and she had but to breathe on a gnarled oldtrunk, and the softest feathery fronds came to hide its ugliness. Thecreatures of the forest were all her friends, and took pride, as we did,in her loveliness.

  'Have a care, Elfrida--a stranger comes!' cried a squirrel one summermorning, staying his dancing feet to warn her. His up-cocked ears hadcaught the thud of some well-shod charger's swift approach, and heguessed he would not be riderless.

  'Go back to thy palace, dear child!' cooed a motherly pigeon who hadreared many broods of snowy fledglings, and misdoubted the sparkle inElfrida's pale green eyes.

  'Haste thee home, Elfrida!' cried the stream as it gurgled over thestones; 'haste thee home, and hide thy face from the sunlight.' ButElfrida pretended not to hear as she shook out the crystal drops fromher gorgeous hair.

  The horse and his rider were close to her now; the huntsman blew hisgolden horn, and in the excitement of the chase might have passed herby, unseeing, but for his hounds. In a moment they had surrounded her,baying like hungry wolves, and Elfrida sprang to a branch that overhungthe water, where her white limbs gleamed against its green. The huntsmansent the dogs to heel, and dismounting from his horse, entreated themaiden to come down to him. Nothing loth, Elfrida coyly descended, andthe huntsman was amazed anew at her perfect form. He sat at her feetthrough the hush of noonday, and at even he was there still. When themoon turned the glades to silver, Elfrida left him, but she promised tomeet him again next day, and he could not sleep for thinking of her.

  But although she smiled on him sweetly as she lay on the banks of thestream, and listened with languid pleasure to his fond fierce wooing,which passed for her many an idle hour, she would not consent to be hiswife.

  'I like best the gems that I find on the lilies at daybreak,' she said,when he vowed that the richest jewels that the earth could give shoulddeck her fair white arms. 'You must offer me something rarer than theseif I am to forsake my kindred to go with you.'

  Then the huntsman swore that he would give her all he had; only hishonour would he hold back, for he was sick with love and longing.

  Now behind Elfrida's loveliness dwelt a spirit of malice and wantoncruelty, and though she loved not this wild Huntsman, and had nointention of being his bride, she wished to see how far her power overhim could go. So she asked of him these three things: the crest of hisHouse cut in the stone over his castle gates, where it had stood forcenturies; the leaf from his dead mother's Bible, whereon she hadwritten the date of her marriage day, with the names of the childrenborn to her; and his father's sword.

  He entreated the Maiden to come down.]

  'Nay, Sweetheart!' cried the Huntsman. 'Ask me for aught else in theworld, but not for these things, since they touch my honour!'

  'These will I have, and nothing less,' said Elfrida wilfully, looking athim through her long gold lashes until his soul went out from him. Hisface was white as milk as he rode away, and the creatures of the forestcringed with shame. For they knew she had asked what was unseemly; andthey ceased to attend her when she went to the stream at dawn.

  When the moon was at her full the Huntsman returned with the threegifts, and now he thought to take Elfrida in his arms. But she thrusthim from her with bitter words, tearing the leaf from the sacred Bookinto a thousand shreds, and tossing the crest and sword into the runningstream.

  'What!' she cried, and her scornful laugh rang through the woodland,'shall I, Elfrida, be the sport of a man who holds the honour of hishouse as something less than a maiden's whim? I will have none ofyou--get you gone!' And she flung out her arms to the strong North Wind,who caught her to him and bore her off. But not to her high pine palacedid he take her, for he was angry because of her cruelty; and far awayat the grim North Pole, she shivers yet under the thickest ice. Hergreen eyes shine through the frost-bound floes, and light the depths ofthe Northern seas."

  "And the Huntsman?" I questioned.

  "He died in his rage, where Elfrida left him!" said the Moss-womanmournfully, "and his spirit seeks still to avenge his wrongs. To thelast of our race it will pursue us, until none of our kindred lives."

  "Chris! Chris! where are you?"

  It was Father's voice, and the Moss-woman vanished. Father wanted toread me a funny letter from the Locust, who complained a lot of beingcalled up at night by patients who had no money, and wouldn't have paidhim even if they had. This was the way they often treated Father,
but hesaid "Poor beggars!" and then forgot it, while the Locust was verycross.

  Next day I went back to the forest, hoping to find the Moss-woman again,but she was not there. I found instead an Elf who was almost too smallto be seen. She told me that she and her sisters lived in the cellswhich make leaves so green, and mixed things they drew in from the airand sunlight with the water that came through the roots, turning theseinto sugar to feed the tree. It sounded like magic, and I was so muchinterested that I almost forgot to ask about the Moss-women.

  "Poor little things!" said the Leaf-Elf kindly, when I said I had seenone. "It is well that the woodcutters are their friends, or they wouldfare badly. Many a meal did they have from them in past times, and evenHans the Unlucky never grudged them what he gave. They paid him back forit, never fear, for they do not forget a kindness."

  "Who was he?" I asked. And this is what she told me.

  The Luck of Hans.

  "Of all the unlucky mortals, Hans was surely the most to be pitied, forthough he was honest and frugal, nothing he touched seemed to prosper.The farm had done well in his father's lifetime, but after he died therewas not one good season for three bad ones. Far from being idle, Hanswas up before dawn, and still hard at work at sundown. His mother sentaway her maids, since she could not pay them their wages, and kept thehouse straight herself; where could you find a worthier pair? But Hans'affairs went from bad to worse, and when (at the busiest time of theyear) his mother lost her sight and became quite blind it was clear hewas born to be unlucky.

  The farm went to rack and ruin, and there came a time when Hans wasforced to go off to the forest to fell a tree that his poor old mothermight have fuel to warm her. When the sun was high, he drew out hislunch, and a poor little Moss-woman stole out from the undergrowth tobeg a few crumbs for her hungry children.

  'Take it all!' he cried, thrusting his bread into her tiny hands. 'It iswaste of good food for a man to eat who is as unlucky as I.'

  'I cannot repay you in kind, friend Hans,' said the Moss-woman, 'but Iwill give you some good advice. In the house by the mill lives a sweetyoung girl, with a face tinged with pink like a daisy's. She has lovedyou long, for you are her mate. Take her to wife, and your luck willturn.'

  Hans flushed deep crimson beneath his tan, and the veins on his foreheadgrew tense and hard.

  'You--you--' he stammered; 'you must mean Elsa? And Elsa, you say, Elsacares for _me_? It can't--it can't--be true.'

  'A woman's heart goes where it will,' answered the Moss-woman. 'Try yourluck, friend Hans, and lose no time. Life is short, and the days areflying.'

  Hans went at once to the house by the mill, for had he not gazed at ittime and again as the casket which held his treasure?

  When Elsa saw him coming with that look upon his face, she twisted aribbon, blue as her eyes, in the pale gold plait that crowned her head,and went shyly down to meet him.

  "Went shyly down to meet him"]

  Hans said not a word, but he found a way to make her understand, and hiseyes spoke, though his lips were dumb.

  They were betrothed and married within the month, and little cared sweetElsa that her friends marvelled at her choice. She comforted the sadblind dame, whose son was now her husband, as a happy woman comforts onewho fears she has lost all, and behold! the old woman smiled again. Asto Hans, the neighbours scarcely recognised him when they met him inthe markets; she trimmed his beard, did Elsa, with her own hands, andmothered him as if he were a child of seven. His fields grew green, andthen golden with harvest; his scanty flocks increased and multiplied.

  'Hans' luck has changed!' the neighbours said, and they scoffed at himno more.

  But good luck itself does not last for ever, and after three years ofplenty came a bad one for all in those parts. There was a long andunusual drought, followed by so much rain that the roots rotted in theground, and sickness spread amongst sheep and oxen. Hans lost all thathe had re-gained, and to add to his misfortunes, he chopped his handinstead of a log of wood, and could do no work for weeks. He was indespair, and the old blind woman beside his hearth wept and wailed frommorn till eve.

  'I would I were dead,' she moaned. 'I am a useless burden, for I cannoteven knit. My store of wool is exhausted, and we have no money to buymore.'

  'Dear Mother,' said Elsa tenderly, 'who has a greater right than you tothe last penny that Hans possesses? You carried him on your breast whenhe was small and helpless, and have loved him faithfully all theseyears!'

  But the mother turned her face to the wall and wrung her idle hands.

  Then Elsa sold the ring that had been her lover's gift in order to buyfor her soft white bread and warming cordials, and wool wherewith to plyher needles. As she returned home with her basket, grieving to think ofthe pain of those she loved, a Moss-woman accosted her in the forest.

  'I have nought for my children to eat,' she said. And Elsa, pitying herthe more that she herself was hungry, gave her a share of what she had,even to a skein of the wool, that she might weave a coat for her cryingbabe.

  'Wait for me here!' cried the Moss-woman earnestly, and Elsa leanedsadly against a tree, too weary to be surprised. In a moment or two theMoss-woman returned, carrying a grey ball of wool and some chips ofwood.

  'Give the wool to the old crone who weeps by your hearth,' said thelittle thing, 'and the chips to Hans. He is lucky in his wife, if innought else!'

  So saying, she disappeared, and Elsa went quickly home. Thinking towin a laugh from her husband, she opened her apron to show him theMoss-woman's gifts, and, to her amazement, found that the chips hadturned to yellow gold, and the little grey ball of wool into a large oneof fleecy whiteness, so soft and thick that it felt like velvet! Thegolden chips stocked the farm again, for they were of pure metal, andweighty, and the ball of white wool was never exhausted during the oldwoman's life time. She knitted away until her hundredth year, and when,long afterward, the summons came also for Hans and Elsa, in their turn,their children had good cause to bless the name of the Moss-woman."