He drove the milk cows to the meadow pastures where the grass was tall and green, but the oxen and the younger cattle he allowed to wander as they would in the open fields or the marshy thickets. Then, at length, when all were peacefully feeding, he sat down upon a grassy hummock and looked around him, sad, lonely, vindictive. The autumn sun beamed hot upon his head, and the fresh sea breeze fanned his face and played in his yellow hair. [[263]]The grasshoppers chirped at his feet and the crows scolded him harshly from the treetops. Kullervo looked and listened, but he saw nothing beautiful, he heard nothing musical. His heart was filled with dismal thoughts, and he loudly bewailed his wretched fate.
“Ah, me! ah, me! Wheresoever I go I am still a miserable slave and hard tasks are set for me to do. While others are happy and free I am forced to trudge unwillingly among briars and thorns, over hills and through marshes, watching the tails of hateful cattle. O Jumala, giver of good! Let the sun shine gently upon me, a wretched slave boy; but make it scorch and blister my master and my master’s household. Turn their boasting into grief and their success into dire misfortune. So hear me, O Jumala, friend of the friendless!”
The noon hour came, the sun began its downward course. In the farmhouse the Smith’s mother, Dame Lokka, was sitting in sweet content. On her right sat Anniki, the maid of the morning, and on her left was Ilmarinen’s wife and mistress whom he had won in the far-off North Land. Joy beamed in every face and pulsed in every heart. [[264]]
The table was spread and the mid-day meal was served—white bread fresh from the bake-oven, choice butter and yellow cream from the dairy, tid-bits of beef and smoked salmon. How good was everything!
“Praise be to Jumala for all these blessings!” said Dame Lokka, fervently.
“Praise be to Jumala!” echoed both the daughters.
Meanwhile the slave, Kullervo, was still sitting on his lonely hummock, keeping watch over the cattle and nursing his evil thoughts. The crows among the pines cawed loudly; the grasshoppers at his feet chirped mockingly.
“Wake up, sad slave boy! The day is past the noon,” croaked an old crow.
And a thrush in the thicket of bushes sang, “O orphan boy, the luncheon hour has come! Take the fine cake from the basket where the old cook so kindly placed it. Eat it. Feast upon it and forget your sorrow.”
Kullervo was hungry, for his breakfast had been light. He picked the oak leaves from the basket and took the round, buttered cake in his hands. It was heavy, and he eyed it closely. He turned it over and examined the under side. [[265]]