"His head. The giant's," said Erik. "It happened in a fairy tale. The prince slew him with his sword and rescued the princess and—"
"Go to sleep," said his mother, and tucked him in.
That night Erik dreamed of Baron Karl. He was a monster with long, hairy arms; with shoulders like huge boulders and a neck as thick as a bull's.
Next morning Erik could hardly wait to see this terrible creature—this enemy who had come to take Greta away from Nils. So he ran over to the big house and stood outside in the courtyard. He knew that soon the family would be coming out on their way to church. Sunday chimes already were ringing from the near-by village.
Hanssonborg had been built over two hundred years ago. "Borg" means "fort," and that is what it had been, like many other castles in Sweden. But today it looked tired and weatherbeaten.
Snow was falling and the wind whistled through the big chimneys. But Erik did not mind the cold. He was used to it. Besides, his ancestors had roamed icy wastes. Some may even have been brave Vikings—pirates who sailed the northern seas in high-prowed galleys. He was a sturdy boy.
CHILDREN SKI TO AND FROM SCHOOL IN SWEDEN
Presently the front door opened, and Fru Hansson walked out. She was straight and tall. Next came Greta, like a lovely, slender flower, and beside her—No, no, it could not be true!
The Baron was far from a giant. Indeed, he was not much taller than Erik himself. Furthermore, he was thin and puny, and his pinched little face peered out through the folds of a great coat.