THE SEVEN PLAITS OF NETTLES.
Once upon a time there was a very bad King who ruled over a very good country.
It was a good country because the land was rich, and things grew well, and because the people worked hard and were thrifty and intelligent. The King was bad because he was terribly extravagant, because he spent fortunes upon fortunes on pleasure, because he gambled all the money in his mint away, and, with all this fearful spending, he never thought of giving anything to the poor. He was a very bad King indeed, just the meanest, poorest thing in kings that ever sat upon a throne!
When the King’s pockets were empty, and the treasury chest and mint were also empty, the only thing His Majesty could do was to increase the taxes. This he did on an average about every other fortnight, and the consequence was that his thrifty, hard-working people had to give all their money to pay the King’s debts. This the people did not in the least like doing, and the King was very unpopular indeed; in fact, matters went to such a pitch that his subjects would not bow to him when they met him in the streets of his capital.
But the King did not seem to mind this one bit; he continued his extravagances and his wicked gambling, he cleared out the treasury chest more often than ever, and he taxed the people harder and harder every day.
But everything must come to an end sooner or later, you know, and it really seemed as if the end of that country had almost arrived, for the people began to starve, and such things as fires were only known in the houses of the richest. But the King borrowed money on his crown, sceptre, and family jewels, and went on anyhow, as usual.
Now it so happened that there lived in a suburb of the King’s city a very beautiful girl, whose name was Ellaleen. She lived in a nice house with her father and mother and brothers and sisters, and it was altogether a very nice family. Not only was it a good-looking, well-behaved family, but it was also a very healthy one, and had a very healthy appetite, which is perhaps a drawback when there is next to nothing to eat.
Well, Ellaleen took matters very much to heart. She objected to growing thinner every day, and it made her more miserable than she could express to see her father and her mother and her brothers and sisters all growing thinner, while each one pretended that he or she was not a bit hungry, so that others could have more. It made her wretched to see her suffering neighbours, and the poor peasants who soon became too sickly to work; and, indeed, what was the use of working when all the profits were taken away? Ellaleen felt as if she would have given her life to save her country!
Now this beautiful and tenderhearted girl had a dream one night, a strange dream, because it was so wonderfully vivid.
She dreamt that a funny old woman, all dressed in red, came to her bedside, and said in a clear voice:
“Ellaleen, if thou wilt journey alone to the willow copse, on the south side of the Blue Mountain that lies to the south of the city, thou shalt there find the means to save thy country.”
This sentence the little old woman repeated three times, and Ellaleen, when she woke in the morning, felt like a second Joan of Arc, for, of course, you know that Joan of Arc was told in a dream that she was to save her country.
Ellaleen did not wait for breakfast—not that it would have made the least difference if she had, for there was no breakfast to wait for (the King’s-taxes had called the day before)—but having obtained permission from her father and mother, whom she had told about her dream, she started off for the willow copse on the south side of the Blue Mountain.
It was late by the time she arrived there—quite dusk, in fact—and it was very much further than she expected. As she entered the copse her heart beat high with excitement, for there, on a fallen tree, sat the old woman of her dream. As soon as the old woman saw her she rose and came quickly forward.
“On a Fallen Tree sat the Old Woman of her Dream.”
“Ellaleen, I am glad thou hast come,” she said in a kindly voice, and taking the girl by her hands; “and art thou prepared to suffer much to save the people from their fearful affliction?”
“Indeed, indeed I am,” replied Ellaleen with all her heart.
“Then come with me,” said the little old woman, and she led the way to the edge of the copse.
“See, there is the Yellow Mountain,” she continued, pointing south.
They could not help seeing the Yellow Mountain, for the setting sun reflected its glory upon it and made it shine like red and liquid gold.
“Thou must travel there through the night,” went on the little old woman. “After the sun has set, the moon will rise and shine upon the mountain, and it will be no longer yellow, but like molten silver; and when thou hast arrived at the mountain, which will be about dawn, thou wilt climb its steeps and descend the other side to fields upon fields of nettles. And when thou hast come to the fields of nettles, thou must take off thy shoes and stockings, and bare thine arms, and then thou must pluck the longest nettles at the root, and with them make seven plaits, each plait two yards long. And all the time thou workest thou must not grumble, but sing cheerily, although thou art ready to cry out with pain and fatigue. Thinkest thou, Ellaleen, that thou canst do all this?”
“I will try,” answered the girl. “And when I have made the seven plaits, what am I to do with them?”
“Thou art to return the way thou wentest, bare-footed and bare-armed, bringing with thee the seven plaits of nettles. And when thou art come to the lake on the top of the mountain, the lake that supplies the country, thou art to throw the plaits one by one into the water; and having done so, thou art to return home.”
“And then?” asked Ellaleen.
“And then thou must wait and see what will happen,” replied the little old woman. “And now, Ellaleen, thou must set out on thy hard task, and thou hast indeed my blessing.”
With that the old woman left the girl, with the shadow of evening falling on her.
Ellaleen did as she had been told. She journeyed to the Yellow Mountain, which shone in the moonlight like a pillar of burnished silver, and she arrived at its summit as the day dawned. Then she descended the other side, and soon came to the fields of nettles.
“Nobody had ever known such Nettles before.”
Such nettles! such fearful nettles! with prickles as large as needles. But Ellaleen did not hesitate, she took off her shoes and stockings, and bared her white arms, and singing, stepped into the mass of horrid weeds.
How loudly she sang! If she had not done so she must have cried out in agony, for the cruel nettles tore her poor arms and legs and feet. She had never known such nettles as these; nobody had ever known such nettles as these! She thought that she must really give up in despair, but she did not. She sang on, and she worked on, and she gathered those nettles near the roots, and wove them, with her poor hands, into seven plaits. Then wearily and slowly, but indeed happily, she went back the way she came, and to the Blue Mountain, and to the lake on its summit.
Ellaleen threw the plaits of nettles one by one into the lake, and as each one touched the water great waves arose, and there were sounds like peals of terrific thunder. As the last rumble died away, Ellaleen turned her back upon the lake, and dragged her poor body home and waited to see what was going to happen next.
“Dear me, isn’t it wonderful? isn’t it delicious?” everybody exclaimed. Then everybody had some more.
It was the water they were talking about. It had suddenly acquired the most exquisite flavour. Everybody, including the King, drank it, and nothing else. Even at the village inn, water was asked for, and only water. It was really more than marvellous.
Then something still more marvellous happened.
Everybody began to feel very drowsy, and before twenty-four hours had passed everybody fell fast asleep, not only every living soul in the country, but every animal, just as in the Sleeping Beauty story.
And they slept on and on and on, during the spring, the summer, autumn, and the winter, through another spring and through another summer. And while they slept there appeared to everyone in Dreamland a little old woman dressed in red, who told them what Ellaleen had done, and how she suffered for her country’s good.
Then everybody woke up suddenly, and rubbing their eyes, stared at each other and the country. The country was worth staring at. Never before had been seen such harvest fields with their rich golden corn; never before had the fruit trees borne such splendid fruit. The vineyards were heavy with grapes; and every garden, palace garden and cottage garden, was filled with magnificent vegetables and beautiful flowers. The country was as rich as it possibly could be.
And the King? Well, the King had his sleep and his dream as well as the others, and when he woke up and rubbed his eyes he was not a bit like the same King.
He called his courtiers and his people together, and in their presence he journeyed to the Blue Mountain and thence to the Yellow Mountain, and he climbed its steeps and descended to the other side. And when he came to the fields of nettles he took off his shoes and stockings and bared his hands, and then he stepped into the cruel weeds, singing all the time.
And he made not seven plaits but seventy, and he could make no more because he was exhausted.
“Thus,” he said to his people, “do I try to punish myself.”
From that day forth he turned into a good king, and taxed his people only justly. And by degrees he paid off his debts and got back his crown and sceptre and family jewels, and so was respectable and presentable once more.
And the water in the lake? Well, it turned again into ordinary water. And Ellaleen? I suppose you think she married the King and lived happily ever after; but she did nothing of the sort.
“He Stepped into the Cruel Weeds.”
She stayed at home, and looked after her father and mother and brothers and sisters. And she went out, too, and looked after the poor who were in trouble and the rich who were in trouble; and she was loved and adored by one and all.
