The Fairies and the Christmas Child

  Chapter VIII

  The Silver Horn.

  When the Dwarf had come to the end of his story, he very politely bademe goodbye, and bowed me out of his Castle. A week or two later we wentto Saltzburg, and there I had a real adventure.

  The Professor with whom we were staying hadn't a single grandchild, andas all his books were old and dusty, to say nothing of being written inGerman, I should have found it rather dull if he had not lent me hisnephew's pony. I had learnt to ride as a little chap, when we lived inthe country. It was lovely there, but no one was ever ill, and Fatherhad so few patients that we could not stay.

  The pony's name was Heinrich. He knew his way everywhere, the Professorsaid, so Father didn't mind my riding him alone, and I had a rippingtime.

  One day we went to the Wunderberg, a big hill on a wide bleak moor,which was supposed to be quite hollow, and the favourite haunt of WildWomen.

  The ground was extremely bumpy, and several times I was almost thrownout of the saddle. At last I got off, for I thought I would ratherwalk.

  It was a splendid morning, and I was glad that I wasn't the Professor'snephew, away at school, as I lay on my back and looked up at the sky.

  A small black beetle crawled over my hand, but I was so comfortable thatI scarcely stirred. It crossed my cuff and climbed a blade of grass; andas I watched it a shadow fell between me and the sunlight.

  A slender woman in a white gown was standing close to me. Her face wasthin, and very wistful, and over her shoulders, down to her very feet,fell a mantle of glistening yellow hair.

  "Are you hungry, child?" she asked gently, holding out to me a slice offine white bread.

  "Not yet," I answered, for we had had _Sauerkraut_ for breakfast, and Ifelt that I should not want anything more to eat for a long time. Shelooked disappointed, and sighed as she threw the bread away. A birdflew down and pecked it, but after a taste or two he left it where itwas.

  "Then surely you are thirsty, and will drink from my horn?" she pleaded,showing me a silver vessel with curious scrolls and writings traced ingold, which had been hidden by her beautiful hair. I took a sip from itsbevelled edge, and had scarcely swallowed the first drop when I feltmyself sinking through the hill, the Wild Woman still beside me.

  "At last! At last!" she cried, clapping her shadowy hands as we stood ina wide hall lit with amber light. "O sisters, rejoice with me! I havefound a child, and his eyes, his eyes are crystal clear."

  She bent over me as she spoke, half smothering me with her silkentresses, and I was so afraid that those sisters of hers would hug metoo, that I scrambled away and I took to my heels and _ran_.

  But you couldn't get far in that place. It was a miniature town, withsilver streets and golden houses, and gorgeous palaces in between.Every turn I took led to a wide square filled with rose trees, wherefountains of gold and silver water bubbled and sparkled in themysterious pale green light. A flock of brilliant humming birds whirredtheir wings in my face so that I could not see where I was going, andthe Wild Women formed a circle round me and began to sing:

  "Only once did mortal child, By our silver horn beguiled, Find a way to leave us; Though they call us strange and wild, Thou shalt find us soft and mild. Stay, and do not grieve us."

  Their voices were very sweet, but when they had sung that verse twiceover, I did not want to hear it again.

  "I don't mind staying with you for an hour or two," I said, as theystopped singing, "but I shouldn't care to live here. I am a ChristmasChild, and there are other Fairy Folk I want to see."

  Then they looked at each other, and drew away.

  "Since he is a Christmas Child," said one, "we cannot keep him. Youshould have known better, Sister Snow-blossom, than to bring him here!"

  "How could I tell," wailed Snow-blossom. "He seemed like any other boy,and would just have fitted the green silk suit that I wove so long ago."

  "Alas, alas!" the others sighed. "The longer he stays, the more it willwring our hearts to part with him. Take him back to the hill at once,dear Snow-blossom, and bid him hasten home."

  But I didn't want to go just yet, for now that they did not wish to hugme, I thought they were rather nice. Their faces were like pure marble,so still and pale, and their light green eyes were very gentle. So Iasked if Snow-blossom might not show me round, as the Professors didFather when he came to a strange town. Her sisters still urged her tosend me away at once, before she had time to grow fond of me, but shewould not listen.

  "What do you want with a mortal child?" I said, when I had been all overthe empty golden houses, and had seen the tiny cathedral, the model ofthe one at Saltzburg, set with pearls and rubies, and many otherprecious stones of which I did not know the name.

  "Because we are lonely," she answered; "so lonely, child. Our onlyfriends are the little people who guard our treasures in the centre ofthe earth, and we would fain have mortals to bear us company. Once, longago, a goodly youth of noble birth was almost tempted to sip from oursilver horn, and had he done so his home would have known him no more.Sweet Stella, the fairest Wild Woman who drew breath between the lastfaint pulse of the night time and the glowing dawn of day, waylaid himon the brow of the hill when he was heated in the chase, but although hecraved the cooling draught she offered him, he would not drink from herhand; her exceeding beauty excited his suspicions, and he guessed thatshe was no mortal maid.

  'Let me see what your wine is like before I taste it!' he said warily,taking the silver horn from her hands. He had no sooner grasped it,than he sprang to his horse and rode away. For many years the horn waskept amongst the treasures of the House of Oldenburg, to which hebelonged, but at last, after many generations, it came back to us. Noone but you and the little Karl has drunk from it since then."

  We were under the rose trees in the great square, and I had found a seatin a ruby and pearl pavillion, with queer golden faces staring down onme from each corner. Snow-blossom hid her face in her hands when I askedher who was Karl, and rocked herself to and fro; then she lifted herhead and looked at me, and I saw that she was crying.

  "I will tell you," she said, "but first come close. For words have wingsin the Wunderberg, and I would not have my sisters know I am grievingstill."

  I sat down beside her, and then she began, speaking very softly andslowly, with deep sighs in between. The tears on her cheeks seemed toshine like pearls, and her hair gleamed more golden than ever.

  The little Karl and the wild-woman.

  "There was once a poor man named Henzel who should have been wellcontent, for his girl-wife, Gretchen, was good and sweet, and the blackbread he ate when his toil was over was pleasant to his taste. His bedwas warm, and his sleep was sound. What could a man want more?

  But Henzel was ever full of complainings. His neighbour, Johann, hadmarried a rich woman, and now owned a well stocked farm with many herds.Each time that he met him, Henzel sighed.

  'I might have done better than he,' he grumbled, even when he heard thatJohann's wife was a great scold, and did not allow her husband amoment's peace. He looked askance at his gentle Gretchen, who bore withhis rough moods tenderly, since once he had been her lover. But shegrieved in secret, for never a good word had he for her now, and herflaxen hair lost its shimmer of satin, and her cheeks their daintybloom.

  She was digging in the cottage garden, for Henzel would do no work athome, when a very old man toiled slowly up the hill. His clothes weredusty, and his staff was bent; he looked very weary, and his voice, ashe bade her 'Goodmorrow,' was faint and low. Gretchen's heart was filledwith pity; she invited him to enter her tidy kitchen, and put before himthe best she had. It was not much, but her strange guest thanked hergratefully. While he rested, she went to the forest, to cut him a strongoak sapling for a staff. The old man had vanished when she returned, andin his place sat a little Dwarf, not more than twelve inches high.

  In the old man's place sat a little Dwarf.]

  'I perceive that you have a kind disposition,
Gretchen, which is betterthan a rich dower,' he said, waving his hand for her to be seated also.'You are already sufficiently blessed,' he went on, 'in being bothvirtuous and patient, but I am willing to grant you your dearest wish.Speak out, and tell me what you most desire.'

  Gretchen bent her brows, and pondered deeply. If she asked the Dwarf forgold, Henzel would rejoice, but she had lived with him long enough toknow that whatever he had, he would still want more. Should she ask foranother husband, then, since the one she had, had ceased to love her,and threw her but scornful looks? Nay--that would be wrong, for whateverhappened she was Henzel's wife. And the flush on her girlish face becameyet deeper, for a very sweet thought had fluttered across her mind. Shewould ask for a little child to lie on her breast, and bear her companythrough the long nights and days.

  When the Dwarf heard her whispered request, he smiled on her verykindly.

  'You are a true woman,' he said, and disappeared as Henzel crossed thethreshold.

  'Who has been here?' he asked, scowling at the empty cup and platter.

  'An old, old man, who was tired and hungry,' Gretchen replied,and anxious to escape his further questioning, she turned to thenewly-kindled fire, and put on a saucepan of broth for him. But Henzelwas very curious, for strangers came that way but seldom, and beforelong he had drawn the whole story from Gretchen's lips, with theexception of the Dwarf's offer to grant her a wish.

  'Did he not speak of rewarding you for your hospitality?' her husbandpersisted, guessing that something had been kept back from him. AndGretchen shyly told him for what she had asked.

  Fierce was Henzel's anger at her neglect of this opportunity to make himrich. He stormed and raved until poor Gretchen longed to hide, and whenat last his rage had spent itself, he was sullen as winter clouds. Shewould have minded this more had it not been for the dear new hope thatfilled her bosom, and early in the spring a little son was born to her.

  What cared she then for Henzel's anger, so long as it did not touch herchild? It was joy enough to feel the wee thing's fingers straying overher face, to see his limbs grow round and dimpled, and to hear him laughas she sang to him baby songs. Henzel went in and out, taking littlenotice of either of them; his thoughts were all absorbed in schemes forgrowing rich, for the love of money held him in its grip.

  When little Karl was six years old his mother died. Instead of sorrowingfor her, Henzel was glad, for now he could marry the elderly widow inthe next town who was ready to exchange her wealth for a handsomehusband.

  So Henzel, too, had now a well-stocked farm, but this brought him smallsatisfaction. For his new wife was a greater scold even than Johann's,and he dare not so much as cross the threshold without taking off hisboots. As to Karl, he was sent to mind the cattle on the Kugelmill closeby; the little lad was so ill-clad that his ragged tatters blew in thewinter wind. He was hungry also, for his stepmother grudged him thesimplest food, and but that he shared their berries with the birds, hemust have starved.

  When the hawthorns were white with the snows of spring, and the daisiesshowed their golden centres on the grassy slopes, we heard him cryingfor his mother. Stella flew to his side, and gathered him in her arms.Her lovely hair covered his shivering limbs, and the desolate childclung close to her as she held the silver horn to his curved red lips.His soft embrace set her woman-love on fire, and veiling him in hergolden tresses, she brought him here.

  He was happy with us--as happy as the days were long. We wove for himgarments of silken sheen, and taught him to call us by the sweet name of'Mother.' ... One day he begged us to let him play on the hill, so wetook him thither, hiding close by, that we might guard him from harm. Hewas seen by some wood-cutters working near, and they took word to hisfather; but before he could fetch him, we had spirited him away. Karlnever asked to play on the hill again, and all went well with us formany years, till he sprang into a gallant youth, with his mother's eyesand a lordly will, unlike her yielding way.

  And then? Ah me! His love for our beautiful Stella grew fierce andwild--the love of a mortal man for a maid. And since no Wild Woman maywed, one night he bore her away from our hill to the evening star, whichis the sanctuary of lovers. Thence she sends glad dreams to motherlesschildren, and to lonely women who pine for love."

  * * * * *

  I did not stay much longer in the Wunderberg, for somehow the scentedair seemed to have grown chilly. When I said to Snow-blossom that Imust leave her, she wept again, and gave me a shining strand of hair toguide me back to the moor. It turned into gossamer when I reached thedaylight, and floated softly away.

  Heinrich was still munching at the short grass, and stared at me veryhard when I caught his bridle. I suppose he thought I had been a longwhile gone.