This
fast-moving Norwegian fairy tale from Asbjørnsen and Moe was
translated into English by Sir George Dasent in ‘Popular Tales from the Norse’
(1859). Nineteenth century translations can feel a little stiff nowadays and
we tend to read them with too much respect. I decided to tell this story aloud a few months ago, but it came to life for me when I tweaked it a bit and told it in a strong Yorkshire accent (which is where I'm from). Traces of this should be obvious in the version below. This helped me bring out not only the Northern-ness of the tale, but also the sheer fun and naughtiness of the original, such as the bit near the end, where the Mastermaid takes various men to bed with her only to make them stand up all night gripping such suggestive items as a poker or a calf’s tail...
The
story begins as if it’s all going to be about a prince, but though he’s an
attractive, cheeky lad, he can’t achieve anything without the Mastermaid (the clue’s in her name)! The tale is classed as Aarne–Thompson
type 313A, 'the girl helps the hero flee', a category which in my
opinion ought to be renamed 'the heroine rescues the boy'. The Mastermaid saves the prince's life four separate times, provides him with invaluable advice, organises his escape, saves him from marrying a troll, and generally sorts everything out with tremendous
aplomb.
There was once a king’s son who had a fancy to see the world. Off he
set, and after travelling for several days he found a door that was built into
the mountain. It was the door to a troll’s house; he spent the night there and hired
himself out next day as the troll’s servant.
In the morning,
before the troll went out to graze his herd of goats on the mountain meadows,
he told the king’s son to shovel out the stable. ‘I’m an easy-going master,’ he
said, ‘when you’ve done that, you can have the rest of the day off, but do your
work well, and don’t go poking into any of the other rooms in the house, or
I’ll tear your head off.’
‘He does seem an easy master!’
said the lad to himself. He thought he’d have plenty of time, so he walked
about humming, and then he thought he would
take a look into some of the other rooms. What might the troll be hiding?
In the middle of the first room
a big cauldron was boiling and bubbling away with no fire under it! ‘What’s
cooking?’ the king’s son wondered, and he looked in, a piece of his hair swung
down into the broth and came out with each strand bright as copper.
‘Funny soup, that!’ said the
lad, ‘if anyone sipped it, they’d have copper lips!’ and he went into the
second room.
Here was another cauldron
simmering away with no fire. ‘I’ll try this one too,’ he says and dips a second
lock of hair in. Out it comes, shining silver. ‘Expensive soup!’ says he,
‘we’ve nothing like it my father’s castle, but how does it taste?’ and he went
into the next room where there was a third cauldron bubbling and steaming.
The lad dipped another lock of
hair in, and this time it came out gleaming gold. ‘Anyone who drank that would
get a gilded gullet!’ he said, ‘but if that’s gold, what’ll I find next?’ and
he opened the door to the fourth room, and in it a girl was sitting on a bench,
the loveliest lass the lad had ever seen.
‘God in heaven,’ she says, ‘what
do you want? And what are you doing here?’
‘I’ve just been hired by the
troll,’ he says.
‘Have you any idea what you’ll
have to do for him?’ she asks.
‘Oh he’s an easy sort of chap,’
says the king’s son. ‘All I have to do is muck out the stable, nothing hard,
and then I can take time off.’
‘You think that’s easy? If you
set about it the usual way, ten shovelfuls will fly in for every one you chuck
out. I’ll tell you what to do: turn the pitchfork around and shovel with the
handle, then all the muck will fly out by itself!’
He’d do that, all right, thought
the king’s son, and then the two of them sat chattering away, falling in love,
till as evening came the lad thought he’d better go out and do his work, and as
soon as he turned the pitchfork upside down, all the muck flew out by itself to
the dungheap and the stable was as clean as clean.
Troll comes back with the goats.
‘Have you shovelled out t'stable?’ he asks
.
.
‘I have that, it’s as clean as
clean.’
‘I’ll see for myself!’ says the
troll, and he came and saw, and he says, ‘You must have been talking to my
Mastermaid! You haven’t got enough between the ears to have managed it
yourself.’
‘Mastermaid?’ says the lad,
pretending to be thick, ‘what sort of a thing is that? I’d love to see it. Can
I see it?’
‘You’ll see soon enough,’ says
the troll.
Next morning the troll gave the
lad instructions to go up the mountain and bring down the horse which was
grazing up there. ‘When you’ve done that you can take things easy the rest of
the day, but don’t go into any of the other rooms, or I’ll wring your head
off!’
‘Kind master or not,’ thought
the king’s son, ‘I’ll talk to the Mastermaid all the same. Yours, is she? What
if she’d rather be mine?’ and he went to see her.
‘What work has he given you
today?’ she asks.
‘Nowt much,’ says the king’s
son. ‘Just go up the mountain to fetch his horse.’
‘And how are you going to do
that?’
‘Shouldn’t be hard, should it?
I’ll bet I’ve ridden better horses than his!’
‘It won’t be as easy as you
think,’ said the Mastermaid, ‘but I’ll tell you what to do. It’ll rush at you
as soon as it sees you, breathing fire and flame, but if you take that bridle
hanging there by the door and throw it over its head, it’ll calm down and
follow you like a lamb.’
Well, the lad would certainly
take her advice, and so they sat chatting and thought how wonderful it would be
if they could get away together and escape the troll… and he would have
forgotten all about going to fetch the horse if the Mastermaid hadn’t reminded
him as evening came on, so he took the bridle and climbed the mountain, and as
the horse came rushing at him with blazing eyes and flaming jaws he threw the
bridle over its head, and then it was tame and followed him back like a lamb.
Troll comes home. ‘Is horse
in’t stable?’
‘Oh aye,’ says the lad. ‘A nice
quiet nag, I rode it back and shut it in the stall, I did.’
‘I’ll see for myself!’ says the
troll. And there was the horse, just as the lad had said. ‘You must have been
talking to my Mastermaid!’ said the troll. ‘You could never have worked that
out for yourself!’
‘Mastermaid? Mastermaid? You
said that yesterday, and still I don’t know what a Mastermaid is. I wish you’d
show me, master, indeed I do,’ said the king’s son, thick as a brick.
‘You’ll find out soon enough!’
said the troll.
Next day the troll went out with
his goats as before. ‘Today it’s off to hell with you, to fetch the fire-tax,’
he said to the lad. ‘You can take it easy the rest of the day! Lucky for you
I’m such a kind master.’ Off he went.
‘Oh aye, very kind,’ says the
lad, ‘to give me all the dirty jobs. I’d better find the Mastermaid.’ And he
went to her. ‘What’ll I do? I’ve never been to hell. I don’t know the way! And
I don’t know how much to ask for!’
‘Oh, I can tell you all that. Go
to the cliff face below the mountain, take this club with you and knock on the
wall with it. Then someone will come out with sparks flying off him. Tell him
your errand, and when he asks how much you want, you say, “As much as I can
carry!”’
Well, the lad thought he could
do that, and then they sat talking all day long and he would be sitting there
still if the Mastermaid hadn’t reminded him to go and fetch the fire tax before
the troll came home.
Off he went and knocked at the
cliff with the club, and out came someone swarming with sparks, fire flying
from his hair and eyes and nose. ‘What do you want?’
‘I’ve come from the troll, for
the fire tax!’
‘How much?’
‘Oh, just as much as I can
carry.’
‘You’re lucky you didn’t ask for
more. Come with me!’ So he led the king’s son into the hill, and there were
piles of gold and silver like stones in a rockfall, and the lad took as much as
he could carry and went home.
Troll comes back. ‘Where’s fire
tax?’
‘In that sack by wall!’
‘I’ll see for myself!’ said the
troll, and he looked in the sack and it was full to the brim with gold and
silver. ‘You’ve certainly been talking to my Mastermaid – and if you have, I’ll
wring your head off!’
‘Mastermaid?’ said the lad. ‘You
keep talking about this Mastermaid. I wish I could see the thing. I really do!’
‘You’ll have your wish,’ said
the troll. ‘I’ll take you to see her tomorrow.’
Next day troll takes the king’s
son to t’ Mastermaid and says to her, ‘Get on and butcher him, and cook him up
in’t big cauldron while I have a nap. When broth’s ready, call me!’ He lay down
on’t bench and went to sleep, snoring so loud it shook the mountain.
The Mastermaid takes a knife,
cuts the lad’s finger and lets three drops of blood fall onto a three-legged
stool. She piles up all the old rags and worn-out shoes and rubbish she can
find, and drops them into the cauldron. She fills up a box with powdered gold,
grabs a block of salt and a flask of water. Then she catches up a golden apple
and the troll’s two golden hens, and off she goes wi’t king’s son, fast as they
can, till they come to t’ sea, jump on board ship and set off over the waves.
Back home, the troll stretches a
bit and stirs. ‘Is broth ready yet?’
‘Just started to boil,’ said the
first drop of blood and the troll goes back to sleep. After a while he stirs
again. ‘In’t it ready yet?’
‘Half-cooked!’ says second drop
of blood. So the troll goes back to sleep. Hours later he yawns and rubs his
eyes. ‘Is it done?’
‘Ready!’ says third drop of
blood. So the troll got up and he couldn’t see the Mastermaid, but the cauldron
was steaming, and he was clemmed. Hungry! He took the ladle and tried the soup,
and it’s nothing but mashed up rags and old leather, and he was so angry he
didn’t know what leg to stand on, and he set off after the Mastermaid and the
king’s son as fast as he could go. Soon he comes to the edge of the fjord, and
he can see the two of them far off on the ship, but he can’t cross the water.
So he calls his River-sucker, and the River-sucker lies down at the fjord’s
edge and sucks and sucks till the fjord’s almost dry.
‘Throw out that block of salt!’
cries the Mastermaid, so the king’s son threw out the block of salt behind the
ship, and it turned into a mighty mountain too high to climb, that blocked the
way. ‘I’ll call for my Mountain-borer!’ yelled the troll, and his
Mountain-borer came and bored a hole right through the mountain, but just as
the troll was scrambling through it the Mastermaid cried, ‘Pour out the flask
of water!’ and the king’s son did, and the tunnel filled with water and the
troll was swept away and drowned.
So now the lad wants to take
Mastermaid back to his father, but he wants to do it in style. ‘Just wait for
me here, while I go on. There’s seven grand horses in my father’s stable, and a
carriage. I’ll fettle them up and bring them for you.’
‘Oh no, don’t do that!’ said the
Mastermaid, ‘if you go home without me, you’ll forget me, I know you will.’
‘How could I forget you after
all we’ve been through together and when we love each other so much?’
‘All right’ said the Mastermaid,
‘go if you will, but don’t speak to anyone and whatever you do don’t have a
bite to eat – if you do, it’ll be bad luck for both of us.’ He said he
wouldn’t, and off he went.
But when he got to his dad’s
castle, one of his brothers had just got married and they were all celebrating.
They were right glad to see him and asked him to join the feast, but he
wouldn’t say nowt, he brushed them off and went to t’ stables to hitch up the
horses. Well, this woman comes after him, she’s the bride’s step-sister, and
she chucks him an apple, ‘If you won’t stay with us, have a bite of that,’ she
cries, and as he were hungry and thirsty he took a bite, and all at once he
forgot the Mastermaid and all that had gone on wi’ him and her. ‘I must have
gone mad. What do I want these horses for?’ And he went back into t’ castle,
and no time at all he was engaged to marry the woman who gi’en him the apple,
who was really a troll.
The Mastermaid waited and
waited, but as king’s son didn’t come she walked along till she came to a dirty
little cottage close by the king’s meadows. In she goes and lights a fire, and
then she takes out the box of gold dust and chucks half of it on’t fire so it
spits and splutters and gilds the whole cottage inside and out, till it shines
like the sun.
Who should come riding by but
the Constable? He was so mithered by the glittering cottage and so smitten by
the lovely lass sitting by t’ door, that he asks her to marry him, straight
off.
‘I might, if you’ve plenty of
brass,’ she says.
Oh, he had plenty of that! So he
comes back that evening with half a sackful, leans it in’t corner and they go
to bed. But soon as they’re in bed, the Mastermaid sits up. ‘I forgot to stoke
fire,’ says she.
‘I’ll do it!’ says Constable,
and he jumps out of bed.
‘Tell me when you’re grabbed
hold of poker,’ says the Mastermaid.
‘I’m holding it now!’ says
he.
‘Then you hold on to the poker
and the poker hold you, and you can chuck coals all over yourself till morning!’ says
the Mastermaid. So the Constable stands there all night, flinging fiery coals
and embers all over himself till daybreak, and then he could let the poker go and
he took to his heels as if the devil was after him. And did he say a word to anyone?
Not likely!
Next day an Attorney comes
riding past, and when he claps eyes on t’ golden hut and the beautiful maiden,
down he goes on his knees and asks to marry her. ‘I might,’ said the
Mastermaid, ‘if you’ve plenty of brass, I might…’
The Attorney was rich enough, so
he come back that evening with a big sackful and leans it in the corner, and
they went to bed. But as soon as they lie down, the Mastermaid sits up.
‘I forgot to shut porch door,’ said she.
‘I forgot to shut porch door,’ said she.
‘Lord, what a time to remember
that!’ says Attorney. ‘I’ll do it,’ and he jumps out of bed.
‘Tell me when handle’s in your
hand,’ says the Mastermaid.
‘I’m holding it now,’ calls the
Attorney.
‘Right, well you hold door handle and door handle hold you, and rush
you this way and that till morning!’ said she. Well, the Attorney never had
such a night, as the door rushed him this way and that all night long, almost
battering him to death, and as daybreak came he fled home, leaving his money
behind. And did he breathe a word to anyone? Not likely!
On the third day, a Bailiff came
by, and same thing happens. He wants to marry the Mastermaid and she says she
might, if he has enough brass! Oh, the Bailiff had plenty. Back he comes that
evening with an even bigger sack than the Attorney – so that was all right, and
off they go to bed. But hardly did their heads touch pillow when the Mastermaid
sits up.
‘I’ve forgotten to shut the calf
away,’ she says. ‘I’ll have to go out and do it now.’
‘I’ll do it!’ says Bailiff, and
he jumps out of bed.
‘Tell me when you’ve got hold of
calf’s tail,’ says the Mastermaid.
‘I’ve got hold of it now!’ cries
the Bailiff.
‘Then you hold on to the calf’s
tail, and the calf’s tail hold you, and you can run over the whole world till
daybreak,’ says the Mastermaid. And off goes the calf, kicking and leaping, and
drags the Bailiff up mountains and down dales, and the more he yells the faster
it runs, and by daylight he’s so worn out he can hardly limp home.
Now the very next day was the
day of the King’s son’s wedding to the sister of his brother’s bride, the woman
who gived him the apple. But when they climbed into t’ carriage to drive to the
church, one of the axles broke, and it couldn’t be mended, and then Constable,
who’d come to t’ wedding, said there was a lass living in a gold cottage down
by the meadows, and they ought to ‘see if she’ll lend you her poker, that’ll
hold all right!’ So they sent a messenger, and the Mastermaid didn’t say no,
and they used poker instead of axle and it worked!
But as soon as they got going,
the floor of the carriage drops out underneath them. So the Attorney says,
‘See if the lass in the gold cottage will lend you her gilded door, I guarantee
that won’t break!’
Well, the Mastermaid lends the
door. So that’s fettled, but this time when they try to set off again, the
horses won’t move. They hitch up six, then eight, then ten, but still the
horses won’t stir, and it’s getting late. The Bailiff spoke up. ‘See if the
lass in the gold cottage’ll lend you her calf. That beast’ll pull anything!’
Well, the Mastermaid lends them
the calf and they unhitch the horses and put it in the traces and what did it
do? It shoots away with that carriage over hill and dale, sometimes on the ground,
sometimes in the air, and when it reaches the church it goes around and around
the steeple like a yarn-winder, and they only just manage to get out. And on t’
way back from the wedding it does the same, only even faster.
Now as they sat down to feast,
the king’s son – the bridegroom – thought they ought to invite the lass in the
gold cottage, who’d lent them her poker, her door and her calf, ‘Without her,
we’d never have got to church in time!’ And the king said this was only fair,
and he sent five of his best men down to the gold cottage to invite the lass to
dinner.
‘If king’s not good enough to
come and see me, he’s not good enough for me to come and see him,’ said the
Mastermaid, so the king had to go down himself and invite her to dinner, and the
Mastermaid went with him and he put her in the seat of honour, next to the
bridegroom. When she’d sat down, the Mastermaid took out the two gold hens and
the golden apple she had brought from troll’s house and put them on the table,
and the two hens started pecking and fighting over the golden apple.
‘By heck,’ said the king’s son,
‘look at the way them hens is struggling to get at the apple!’
‘Aye,’ says the Mastermaid,
‘That’s just the way we two struggled to get our freedom, when we were shut in
troll’s house under the mountain.’
Then the king’s son remembered
everything! He knew who she was, and you can’t think how happy they was, the
two of them! As for the troll bride who’d given him the apple, the king told
her off to be torn in twenty pieces between twenty horses, and then they
could really celebrate, and Constable, Attorney and Bailiff danced all night at
the wedding!
More about fairy tales and folklore in "Seven Miles of Steel Thistles" available from Amazon here and here.
Picture credits
The Mastermaid by Charles Folkard
The Prince collects the fire-tax by HJ Ford
The River-Sucker by HJ Ford
More about fairy tales and folklore in "Seven Miles of Steel Thistles" available from Amazon here and here.
Picture credits
The Mastermaid by Charles Folkard
The Prince collects the fire-tax by HJ Ford
The River-Sucker by HJ Ford
