Legends from River & Mountain

by Carmen Sylva; Alma Strettell

There was once a young fellow who dwelt near the Brocken, and he had won a lovely maiden for his bride. He thought himself a lucky man, but then he did not know that both the girl and her mother were witches. Now one evening he tarried very late at his bride’s house, and could not guess why she and her mother were so eager to send him away, for generally the maiden was loth to let him go; and he did not know that this was Walpurgis-night, the great meeting-time of the witches. Yet he grew suspicious, and after he had bidden his dear “good-night,” he hid himself in the hay-loft, for he half expected to see another man creep up for a stolen meeting with his sweetheart, and was ready to fly at his throat. But, instead of this, he beheld mother and daughter step into the hay-loft alone, and the mother held in her hand a strangely shaped glass. There they stood in the middle of the barn, and spoke strange words, and drank from the glass, when lo! on a sudden they had disappeared.

Now this tore the bridegroom’s heart with dread and foreboding, and he determined to follow them. So he came from his hiding-place, and took up the glass they had left behind. A few drops of red, fiery liquid still remained in it. Then the lad went out and plucked a garland of dragon-wort, which he wound round about him, to preserve him from witchcraft; and after he had done this, he boldly drank all that remained in the glass, repeating the same words that he had heard his sweetheart use. And behold! in the twinkling of an eye, he found himself on the Brocken, in the midst of the magic circle among the rocks, where the witches meet.

The company was arriving in great numbers.

Jagged peaks and giant fir-trees, with boughs bent crooked by the breath of the storm-wind, rose on every side, and here and there, on the rocks, huge fires were burning. The company was arriving in great numbers, and the bridegroom was astonished to see how many of his neighbours and familiar acquaintance came riding up, some on pitchforks, some on goats, cats, or geese. His lovely bride was there, riding pillion behind her mother on the hay-fork that had been lying beside him in the loft. He himself was sitting, he knew not how, on a great hay-waggon, that was drawn to one side of the open dancing-space, and he laid his wreath of dragon-wort so as to form a kind of circle around him. Presently the oldest and fiercest among the witches came swooping down upon him, riding a huge tom-cat. “Ah!” she cried with a disappointed scowl, “curse thy hedge of dragon-wort, thou interloper! ’Twould have gone ill with thee but for that!” The tom-cat gave an angry spit, and the baffled witch pulled him round by the whiskers, and rode away into the dance. For the dance had begun, fast and furious, so that the lad could hardly see which way the frantic creatures bounded and pranced; and all the while there was a terrible being with horns upon his head, who moved about and directed the festivities. And what was the bridegroom’s dismay when this fearful being came towards him, and looking up with a jeering expression, said: “A bridegroom should have a merry heart, and thou art not here only to stare and be idle, I take it. I know thee well enough for a fine cornet-player; here, catch hold of this instrument, and help to play for our dance.”

With that he threw up a splendid new cornet into the waggon, and the bridegroom was fain to take it, and join in with the other players, who, hidden among the rocks, where he could not see them, were filling the air with a burst of music. Now the bridegroom could not help agreeing with the opinion expressed about his playing, and so for some time he played on, not a little pleased with himself, upon the beautiful cornet.

But after a while the Terrible Being gave a sign, and music and dance stopped at once. Then all the company stood silent, while he drew water from the “witches’ well,” and poured it into the “witches’ basin,” where the witches then had to wash themselves, while he sprinkled some of the water, too, upon them.

While the bridegroom was watching this dread ceremony, he became aware that his sweetheart had spied him out, and was gazing at him anxiously. As soon as she caught his eye, she danced up, and whispered: “Dear lover, come with me, and I will prepare a couch for thee, for thou must be weary of this long, wild night.” He would have opened his lips to scold her, but she touched them, and he was unable to say another word. Then, taking him by the hand, she drew him, as he thought, into the neighbouring thicket, where she showed him a downy feather-bed, shut in by flowered curtains. “Creep in there,” she whispered, “and sleep; but thy new cornet thou mayst keep as thy reward for playing so finely; our master hath said so.” With this, she was gone, and he heard the music and tumult of the dance break forth again, but presently a great weariness overcame him, and he fell asleep.

When he awoke it was high noon, and he lay in a meadow close to his home; the downy bed with thick curtains turned out to be the skeleton of an old horse, which had lain mouldering in the fields, and between the ribs of which he found himself wedged. The new cornet, too, proved to be nothing but a dead cat, with a stumpy tail, which he had almost chewed off during his fine musical efforts.

The bridegroom went home, seething with indignation, and bent upon revenge. That very same evening he betook himself, armed with his righteous wrath, to his sweetheart’s house, and began:—