The son of Kalev received the huge blade from the hands of the smith with reverence, and whirled it round like a fiery wheel, and it whistled through the air like the tempest that breaks oaks and unroofs houses.
Then he turned and brought down the keen edge like a flash of lightning on the great anvil, and clove it to the ground without the sword receiving the slightest injury.
Then the hero joyfully expressed his thanks to the smith for forging such a splendid sword, and promised to bring him the full price demanded upon his return to Esthonia. But the smith said he would rather go and fetch the value of the sword himself.
And now a great drinking-bout was prepared in honour of the sword and its owner, which lasted for seven days. Beer and mead flowed in abundance, and the guests drank till they lost all restraint, shouting and laughing, and throwing their caps about, and rolling on the gra.s.s.
The Kalevide had lost his senses like the rest, and told the whole story of his adventure on the island and the drowning of the maiden. Upon this, the eldest son of the smith, his father"s pride and joy, sprang forward, denouncing him for his aspersions on the maiden"s honour. The Kalevide defied him, maintaining the truth of the story, and from words they soon came to blows; and, before any one could comprehend what was going on or interfere, the Kalevide drew the sword from its sheath and struck off the head of his adversary before the face of his father, mother, and brothers, the hero thus loading himself with a second great crime.
The youth"s father shrieked with horror and his mother fell fainting to the ground; the smith then cried out to the Kalevide that he had murdered the support of his old age, and had stained the innocence and honour of his new sword for ever. Then he called to his sons to fetch the hammers from the smithy and break the bones of the murderer. But the drunken giant advanced against them with his sword, defying them to the combat; and the smith, recognising the hopelessness of any attempt against him, cried to his sons to let him pa.s.s and leave vengeance to the G.o.ds, cursing him like a mad dog, and calling on the sword itself to avenge the crime. But the Kalevide seemed to hear nothing, and staggered away from the house through the wood along the road till he came to a high waterfall. He followed the course of the stream some distance till he found a resting-place, where he laid down, and snored till the whole neighbourhood shook, and people asked in fear whether enemies had invaded the land and a battle was in progress.
The oak which the islander had planted sprang up, first as a small tree, but it grew so rapidly that it reached the clouds, and almost touched the sun. The sun and moon were hidden, the windows darkened, and all the country around made dismal by the shadow of its branches. The islander sought far and near for some one to fell the tree, for whole cities and fleets might have been built of its wood. Proclamation was made everywhere for some one to fell the tree, but no one dared to attempt it, and he returned home, grumbling to his wife at the failure of his long and fruitless journey. Then the old woman led the way to the room where the eagle and the dwarf were still remaining, and told her husband how she had found the dwarf, who was no larger than Kalev"s thumb, under the wing of the eagle. The islander asked the dwarf if he would fell the oak-tree, and he consented at once, on condition that he should be released from his captivity; he was also given a dish of pure gold.
The dwarf went out and took a good look at the oak-tree, and then he himself began to grow, first by ells, and then by fathoms. Having thus become a giant, he began to hew at the tree, and he hewed at it for three days, till it fell, covering half the island and half the sea with its branches. The trunk was used to make a great bridge, with two arms, reaching from the island to Finland on the one side, and to Esthonia on the other. Large ships were built of the summit, merchant-vessels from the trunk, towns from the roots, rowing-boats from the branches, and children"s boats from the chips. What remained was used to make shelters for weak old men, sick widows, and orphan children, and the last branches left were used to build a little room in which the minstrel could sing his songs. Strangers who came now and then across the bridge stopped before the minstrel"s hut to ask the name of the city with the magnificent palace; and the minstrel replied that there was nothing there but his poor hut, and all the splendour they beheld was the light of his songs reflected from heaven.
[Footnote 45: In the _Kalevala_ (Runo 34) an old woman directs Kullervo to the house of his parents.]
CANTO VII
THE RETURN OF THE KALEVIDE
The Kalevide slept till the following morning, and when at length he awoke he tried in vain to recollect the events of the day before. He could not remember whether he had been in Finland or on the island, or whether he had been engaged in battle. He had no remembrance of having slain the smith"s son; but he got up half-dazed, and walked on without stopping till he reached the seash.o.r.e on the third day afterwards. Here he found the sorcerer"s boat; so he stepped into it, hoisted sail, and set off homewards.
Kalev"s offspring was not weary, For his back was like an oak-tree, And his shoulders gnarled and knotted, And his arms like trunks of oak-trees, And like elm-trees were his elbows, And his fingers spread like branches, And his finger-nails like boxwood, And his loins like hardened iron.
The Kalevide was now in high spirits, and began to sing a song, in which he pictured himself as going on a voyage, and meeting three shiploads of enchantresses, old and young, whose blandishments he resisted. But as he approached the sh.o.r.es of Esthonia, the fresh sea-breeze dispelled the mists that still clouded his memory, and the blood-stained sword and the splashes of blood on his clothes bore witness of the murder he had committed.
About midnight he approached the small island where the maiden had fallen into the sea, and the whole sad scene arose again before his imagination. And now he could hear the maiden singing a sad song beneath the waves, lamenting her sad fate, and yet more the evil lot of her brother, who had slain the son of his father"s old friend.[46] The blood from the sword reddened the cheeks of the maiden, and a long and terrible penance lay before her brother.
For a while the hero sat lost in thought, bitterly lamenting the past; but presently he roused himself, and proceeded on his voyage, singing a lamentation for his mother beginning:
Where upgrows the weeping alder, And the aspen of confusion, And the pine-tree of distraction, And the deep remorse of birch-tree?
Where I sorrow, springs the alder; Where I tremble, sprouts the aspen; Where I weep, the pine is verdant; Where I suffer, sighs the birch-tree.
Next morning the Kalevide reached the sh.o.r.e, made fast the boat, and went homewards; but as he pa.s.sed Mount Iru, where the form of his mother stood, his steps were arrested by the sweet singing of her unseen spirit in the wind. She sang how the young eagle had soared from the nest in youthful innocence, and had returned stained with crime. He knew now that his mother was dead, and realised more fully the two crimes which weighed upon his soul--the one committed thoughtlessly and without evil intent, and the other without his knowledge, when he was not master of himself. He hastened on, and when he reached home his brothers, who had long mourned him as dead, received him with open arms.
In the evening the three brothers sat together and related their adventures. The first sang how he had wandered in search of his mother over vast regions, and through a great part of Courland, Poland, Russia, Germany, and Norway, and had met on his wanderings maidens of tin, copper, silver, and gold. But only the golden daughter of the Gold King could speak, and she directed him along a path which would lead him to a beautiful maiden who could reply to his question. He hurried on a long way, and at last met a rosy-cheeked maiden of flesh and bone, who replied to his questions that she had seen no traces of his mother, and the hawk must have flown away with her. But she invited him to her village, where he would find plenty of rich and beautiful maidens. He answered that he had not come to choose a wife, but to seek his mother.
Then the second brother sang how he also had wandered a long way, but at last reached a cottage where he found an old man and woman, whom he saluted and asked for tidings. They made no reply, and only the cat mewed in answer.
He went on farther, and met a wolf; but when he asked if he had seen his mother, he only opened his mouth to grin at him. Next he met the bear, who only growled, but finally the cuckoo[47] directed him through a wood and across a green meadow to some maidens who would give him information. When he reached the spot, he found four beautiful maidens in elegant attire, who told him that they had been wandering about the woods and meadows every day, but had seen nothing of his mother, and they thought she must have flown away. They recommended him to seek a wife; but he answered that a young wife could not fill the place of his dear lost mother.
Then the youngest brother related his adventures; but he said nothing about the fatal brawl at the smith"s feast, nor of the sad songs of the island-maiden and of the spirit of his mother.
Then the eldest brother remarked that they knew not what had become of their mother, but their parents were no more, and they must shift for themselves, so he proposed a trial to decide which of the three should rule as king in the land. The second brother agreed, and the third proposed that the trial should take place next day, and be decided according to the will of Taara.
In the evening, before twilight had quite given way to night, the youngest son took his handkerchief, which was wet with tears, and climbed up his father"s cairn. And his father asked from below:
"Who disturbs the sandy hillock, With his feet the grave disturbing, Stamping with his heels the gravel, And the gravestone thus disturbing?"
The hero besought his father to rise up and stroke his hair and speak to him; but his father answered that he had long lain in his grave; his bones were decayed, and the gra.s.s and moss grew over him, and he could not rise. Let the wind and the sun caress his son. The son answered that the wind only blew sometimes, and the sun only shone by day, but Taara lives for ever. And the father told him not to weep or grieve, for the spirit of his dead father should follow him throughout his life, and that the good G.o.ds would protect him even through the desert wastes of the waters of the ocean; and he also counselled him to do his best to atone for every fault and error.
[Footnote 46: The smith is sometimes called the uncle of Kalev; but the term may only mean that he was an old friend.]
[Footnote 47: The cuckoo is a sacred bird, but more often alluded to in Finnish than in Esthonian literature.]
CANTO VIII
THE CONTEST AND PARTING OF THE BROTHERS
On the following morning the three sons of Kalev set out before sunrise towards the south; but they rested under the trees and took some refreshment during the heat of the day. In the evening they pa.s.sed a house which was lighted up as if for company. The father and mother stood at the door, and invited them to choose brides from among their rich and beautiful daughters. The eldest brother answered that they were not come to woo brides, and had no thought of marriage; but the second brother said he should like the girls to come out to swing with them; and they were forthwith summoned. Then the youngest brother said he hoped the young ladies would not distress themselves, but really he and his brothers had no idea of marrying at present, and they must beg to be excused.
Then they continued their journey southwards, and on the third day they reached a small lake with steep banks.[48] Water-birds were sporting in the lake, and on the opposite sh.o.r.e they saw the holy forest of Taara shining in the sunset. "Here is the place where our lot must be decided," said the eldest brother; and each selected a stone for the trial of strength. It was arranged that whoever should cast his stone across the lake to the firm ground opposite should be adjudged his father"s heir, and the other two should wander forth to seek their fortunes in other lands.
The eldest brother, in all friendliness, claimed his right to the first trial, and cast his stone. It flew from his hand with the speed of a bird or of the tempest, but suddenly changed its direction, and plunged into the middle of the lake. The water foamed up over it, and entirely concealed it from sight.
The second brother then seized his stone, and sent it whistling through the air like an arrow. It rose up till it was nearly lost to sight, and then turned and fell on the sh.o.r.e close to the water, where it sank for half its bulk into the mud. Then came the turn of the third, who, though the youngest, was much taller and stronger than his brothers.
The youngest brother made some sad reflections on his posthumous birth, and on the course of his childhood, and then cast forth his rock like a bird, or like a ship in a storm. It flew up far and high, but not up to the clouds, like that cast by his brother, and afterwards made great ducks and drakes across the whole lake, reaching at last the firm ground beyond.
"Don"t let us wait here," said the eldest brother, "but let us go and look for the stones, and decide our compet.i.tion." As the nearest way to the opposite sh.o.r.e was through the lake, they waded straight across it, and at the deepest place the water reached a little above their knees.
The stone cast by the eldest brother had disappeared entirely in the water, and no trace of it could be found; but that thrown by the second was found on the sh.o.r.e half sunken in the mud. Only the stone thrown by the youngest brother, easily recognisable by its marks, was found on firm ground, lying on the gra.s.s at some little distance beyond the lake.
Then the eldest brother declared that the G.o.ds had plainly a.s.signed the kingdom to the youngest, and that the others must now bathe him and adorn him as king.[49] After this the three brothers took an affectionate leave of each other, and the two elder ones wandered cheerfully away. The youngest sat on the rock sadly reflecting on the lost joys of youth, and how he must now depend on his own unaided efforts. At length he threw a silver coin into the water as an offering to the G.o.ds, an old custom now forgotten.
It was the duty of the new king both to plough the country and to defend it, and he therefore set to work with his sword by his side. Early and late he ploughed, stocking the country with corn, gra.s.s, trees, and berries.
One hot noonday, seeing his white horse[50] nearly exhausted, he unyoked him from the plough, hobbled him, and left him to graze, while he himself lay down in the gra.s.s and fell asleep. His head rested on the top of a hill, and his body and legs spread far over the plain below.
The sweat ran from his forehead and sank into the earth, whence arose a healing and strengthening spring of wonderful virtues. Those who taste the water of this spring are greatly strengthened; weak children grow strong, the sick grow healthy; the water heals sore eyes, and even blindness; the weary are refreshed, and the maidens who taste it have rosy cheeks for their whole lifetime.
While the Kalevide lay asleep, he dreamed that he saw his good horse torn to pieces by wolves. And truly the horse had strayed away to some distance, when a host of wild animals, wolves, bears, and foxes, emerged from the forest. As the horse"s feet were hobbled, he could not escape, and was soon overtaken. He defended himself as well as he could with hoofs and head, and killed many of the beasts; but he was finally overpowered by their ever-increasing numbers, and fell. Where he sank the ground is hollow, and a number of little hills represent the wolves killed in the struggle. The horse"s blood formed a red lake, his liver a mountain, his entrails a marsh, his bones hills, his hair rushes, his mane bulrushes, and his tail hazel-bushes.[51]
[Footnote 48: This lake (Saad jarv) lies a little north of Dorpat.]
[Footnote 49: Nothing is said as to how the government was carried on during the Kalevide"s minority.]
[Footnote 50: White horses constantly occur in Esthonian tales; and the devil"s mother or grandmother usually appears as a white mare. One of the commentators remarks that as the white horse was sacred in pre-Christian times, the missionaries represented it as peculiarly diabolical. It will be remembered with what severity the early missionaries suppressed the horse feasts among the Teutonic tribes.]
[Footnote 51: This is a little like the formation of the world from the body of the giant Ymir, as described in the Edda. As W. Herbert paraphrases it,
"Of his bones the rocks high swelling, Of his flesh the globe is made, From his veins the tide is welling, And his locks are verdant shade."
"Helga" is a somewhat poor production, containing but few striking pa.s.sages except the description of the appearance of the Valkyrior before the fight between Hialmar and Angantyr. But the shorter poems at the end, "The Song of Vala" and "Brynhilda," ought to be alone sufficient to remove the name of this forgotten poet from oblivion.]