The Wonderful Adventure of Nils Holgersson Page 6

  The teacher was still talking, when he was interrupted by loud shouts. ‘Catch him! Catch him!’ the ones who had come from the kitchen screamed, and all the young men rushed after the imp, who scampered away quicker than a rat. They tried to block him at the gate, but it was not easy to get hold of someone so little and he successfully came out into the open.

  The imp did not dare run down the lane, so he turned off in a different direction. He rushed through the garden into the backyard. The whole time the people were chasing after him with shouts and laughter. The poor little fellow fled for all he was worth, but it still seemed as if the humans would gain on him.

  When he hurried past a small workman’s dwelling, he heard a goose cackling and saw a white feather on the step. There, there was the gander! He had been on the wrong track before. He thought no more about the maids and men who were chasing him, but instead he climbed up the steps on to the landing. He could not get any farther, because the cottage door was locked. He heard the gander shrieking and complaining inside, but he could not get the door open. The big hunting party that pursued him was coming ever closer, and inside the room the gander was shrieking more and more pitifully. In this darkest hour the little fellow finally plucked up courage and pounded on the door with all his strength.

  A child came and answered, and the imp looked into the room. In the middle of the floor a woman was sitting, holding the gander firmly in order to clip off his pinions. It was her child who had found him and she did not want to do him any harm. She intended to release him to her own geese once she had clipped his wings, so that he would not be able to fly away. But worse bad luck could hardly happen to the gander and he shrieked and complained with all his strength.

  And lucky it was that the woman had not started the pinioning sooner. Now only two quills had fallen to the scissors when the door opened and the little imp was standing on the threshold. But the woman had never seen anyone like that before. She could only believe that it was the farm gnome himself, and she dropped the scissors in astonishment, folded her hands and forgot to hold on to the gander.

  As soon as the gander noticed he was free, he ran towards the door. He did not give himself time to stop, but in passing he seized the imp by the neckband and took him with him. And on the steps he spread out his wings and went up into the air. At the same time he made a showy swing with his neck and set the little fellow upon his smooth, downy back.

  Then they took off up into the air and all of Vittskövle stood and stared after them.

  THE PARK AT ÖVEDSKLOSTER

  All that day, as the geese played with the fox, the boy was lying asleep in an abandoned squirrel’s nest. When he woke up towards evening, he was rather concerned. ‘Now I’ll soon be sent home, and then I probably can’t avoid appearing before Mother and Father,’ he thought.

  But when he looked for the wild geese, who were swimming in Vombsjön, none of them said a word about him leaving. ‘Maybe they think that the white one is too tired to go home with me this evening,’ the boy thought.

  The next morning the geese were awake at daybreak, long before sunrise. Now the boy felt sure that he would be going home, but strangely enough both he and the white gander got to follow the wild geese on their morning flight. The boy simply could not understand the reason for this reprieve, but then he figured out that the wild geese did not want to send the gander away on such a long trip before he had been able to eat until he was full. In any event he was just happy for every moment that passed before he had to meet his parents.

  The wild geese travelled over to the manor at Övedskloster, which was situated in a magnificent park east of the lake and looked very grand with its large castle, its beautiful, stone-paved courtyard, surrounded by low walls and pavilions, and its fine, old-fashioned garden with pruned hedges, covered walkways, ponds, fountains, magnificent trees and immaculate lawns, whose edges were bright with spring flowers.

  When the wild geese flew over the manor in the early morning, no person was yet moving. When they had carefully assured themselves of this, they flew lower towards the kennel and called, ‘What kind of little hut is this? What kind of little hut is this?’

  At once the watchdog came out of the kennel, angry and furious, and barked up at the air.

  ‘Are you calling this a hut, you tramps? Don’t you see that this is a tall stone castle? Don’t you see what beautiful walls it has, don’t you see how many windows and what large gates and what a grand terrace it has, woof, woof, woof? Are you calling this a hut, are you? Don’t you see the yard? Don’t you see the garden? Don’t you see the greenhouses? Don’t you see the marble statues? Are you calling this a hut, are you? Do huts usually have a park where there are beech forests and hazel thickets and forest meadows and oak groves and spruce hills and a preserve full of deer, woof, woof, woof? Are you calling this a hut, are you? Have you seen a hut that has so many outbuildings around it that it looks like a whole village? I’m sure you know of many huts that have their own church and their own parsonage, and that rule over manors and farms and tenant farms and farm workers’ cabins, woof, woof, woof? Are you calling this a hut, are you? The largest estate in Skåne belongs to this hut, you beggars. You can’t see a patch of earth from where you are hanging in the sky that isn’t under the control of this hut, woof, woof, woof!’

  The dog managed to call all this out in one breath, and the geese flew back and forth over the yard and listened to him, until he had to take a break. But then they shrieked, ‘What are you so angry for? We weren’t asking about the castle, we were just asking about your kennel.’

  When the boy heard this joke, at first he laughed, but then a thought forced itself on him that made him serious at once. ‘Imagine how many amusing things you would get to hear if you got to go with the wild geese through the whole country all the way up to Lapland!’ he said to himself. ‘Now when you’re in such a bad way a trip like that would probably be the best thing you could think of.’

  The wild geese flew off to one of the wide fields east of the manor to graze on grass roots, and kept at this for hours. In the meantime the boy went into the large park that bordered the field, searched for a hazel grove and started looking up at the bushes to see if there were any nuts left hanging from last autumn. But again and again while he walked in the park the thought of the journey came back to him. He imagined how nice it would be for him if he went with the wild geese. He thought he would have to starve and freeze often enough, but in return he would not have to work or study.

  While he was walking there, the old grey lead goose came up to him and asked if he had found anything edible. No, he had not, he said, and then she tried to help him. She could not find any nuts either, but she found a couple of rosehips hanging on a briar bush. The boy ate them up with good appetite, but he probably wondered what his mother would have said if she knew he was now living on raw fish and old rosehips left after winter.

  When the wild geese were finally full, they headed down to the lake again, and there they amused themselves by playing until almost noon. The wild geese challenged the white gander to a contest in every possible sport. They had swimming races, running races and flying races with him. The big tame gander did his best, but he was always beaten by the quick wild geese. The boy sat on the gander’s back the whole time and encouraged him and had just as much fun as the others. There was shrieking and laughter and cackling, so it was strange that the people at the manor did not hear them.

  When the wild geese were tired of playing, they went out on the ice and rested for a couple of hours. They spent the afternoon in almost the same way as the morning. First a couple of hours of grazing, then swimming and games in the water by the edge of the
ice until sundown, when at once they settled down to sleep.

  ‘This would be just the life that would suit me,’ the boy thought, as he crept in under the gander’s wing. ‘But tomorrow I’ll be sent home.’

  Before he fell asleep, he lay there thinking that if he got to go with the wild geese he would avoid all scolding for being lazy. Then he would get to loaf all day and his only worry would be getting something to eat. But he needed so little nowadays that it would probably work out.

  And then he imagined to himself what he would get to see and how many adventures he would be involved in. Yes, it would be different from the toil and moil at home. ‘If I only got to go with the wild geese on their journey, I would not be sad about having been transformed,’ the boy thought.

  He was not afraid of anything except being sent home, but the geese did not say a word about him having to travel on Wednesday either. That day passed in the same way as Tuesday and the boy was feeling more and more comfortable with the wilderness life. He thought he had the deserted park at Övedskloster, which was big as a forest, completely to himself, and he did not feel homesick for the cramped cottage and the small fields at home.

  On Wednesday he thought that the wild geese intended to keep him with them, but on Thursday he lost hope again.

  Thursday started in the same way as the other days. The geese grazed on the wide fields and the boy looked for food in the park. After a while Akka came to him and asked if he had found anything edible. No, he had not, and then she found a dry caraway plant for him, with all of its little seeds intact.

  When the boy had eaten, Akka said that she thought he was running around in the park much too adventurously. She wondered if he knew how many enemies he had to watch out for, being so little. No, he did not know that at all, and then Akka started listing them for him.

  When he was in the park, she said, he should watch out for the fox and the marten; when he came to the lakeshore, he should keep the otters in mind; if he sat on the stone wall, he should not forget the weasel, who could creep through the smallest hole, and if he wanted to lie down to sleep in a pile of leaves, he should first investigate whether a viper was not having its winter sleep in the same pile. As soon as he came out on the open field, he should keep an eye out for hawks and buzzards, for eagles and falcons hovering in the sky. In the hazel thicket he could have been captured by the sparrowhawk; magpies and crows were everywhere, and he should not believe them too much, and as soon as it was twilight he should keep his ears pricked to listen for the large owls who flew with such silent wing strokes that they could be right on him before he noticed them.

  When the boy heard that there were so many who were after his life, he realized that it was quite impossible for him to stay alive. He was not particularly afraid of dying, but he did not like being eaten up, and for that reason he asked Akka what he could do to protect himself against predators.

  Akka answered at once that the boy ought to try to be on good terms with the small animals in forest and field, with squirrels and hares, finches and titmice and woodpeckers and larks. If he became their friend, they could warn him of dangers, find him hiding places and, as a last resort, they could join together and defend him.

  But when the boy wanted to follow this advice later in the day and turned to Sirle, the squirrel, to ask for his assistance, it turned out that the squirrel did not want to help him. ‘You mustn’t expect anything good from me or the other small animals,’ Sirle said. ‘Don’t you think we know that you are Nils the goose-boy, who last year tore down the swallow’s nest, crushed the starling’s eggs, threw baby crows into the marl-pit, caught thrushes in traps and put squirrels in cages? You can help yourself as best you can, and you should be happy that we don’t gang up against you and chase you back to your own kind.’

  This was just the sort of answer that the boy would not have left unpunished before, when he was Nils the goose-boy, but now he was just afraid that the wild geese too would find out how mean he could be. He had been so anxious about not getting to stay with the wild geese that he had not dared the slightest mischief since he had been in their company. It was true that he would not have been able to do much harm, little as he was, but he probably could have destroyed many birds’ nests and broken many eggs, if he had wanted to. Now he had just been nice, he had not torn a feather from a goose wing, not given anyone an impolite answer, and every morning when he greeted Akka, he had taken off his cap and bowed.

  All of Thursday he kept on thinking that it was certainly due to his meanness that the wild geese did not want to take him with them up to Lapland. And when he heard in the evening that Sirle Squirrel’s wife had been taken away, and that his children were about to starve to death, he decided to help them, and it has already been told how well he succeeded in this.

  When on Friday the boy came into the park, he heard the chaffinches singing in every thicket about how Sirle Squirrel’s wife had been kidnapped by cruel robbers from her tender babies and how Nils the goose-boy had ventured in among the humans and carried the little squirrel children to her.

  ‘Who is now so celebrated in Övedskloster’s park,’ the chaffinches sang, ‘as Thumbkin, he whom everyone feared back when he was Nils the goose-boy? Sirle, the squirrel, will give him nuts, the poor hares will play with him, the deer will take him on their backs and fly away with him when Smirre Fox approaches, the titmice will warn him about the sparrowhawk, and finches and larks will sing about his heroic deed.’

  The boy was quite sure that both Akka and the wild geese heard all this, but nonetheless all of Friday passed without their saying anything about him being able to stay with them.

  Up until Saturday the geese got to graze on the fields around Öved, undisturbed by Smirre Fox. But when on Saturday morning they came out on the fields, he was lying in wait for them and followed them from one field to the next, so that they could not eat undisturbed. When Akka realized that he did not intend to leave them in peace, she quickly made her decision, raised herself in the air and flew with the flock many kilometres away over the plains of Färs County and the juniper-clad slopes of Linderödsåsen. They did not land until they were in the area of Vittskövle.

  But here at Vittskövle the gander was kidnapped, which has already been told. If the boy had not exerted all his strength to help him, he never would have been found again.

  When on Saturday evening the boy came back with the gander to Vombsjön, he thought that he had done a good day’s work, and really wondered what Akka and the wild geese would say. And the wild geese were in no way sparing of praise, but they did not say the word that he longed to hear.

  Then it was Sunday again. A whole week had passed since the boy had been bewitched, and he was still just as small.

  But it did not appear as if he should have any worries because of that. On Sunday afternoon he sat curled up in a large, bushy osier down by the lakeshore, blowing on a reed. Around him sat as many titmice and chaffinches and starlings as the bush could hold, chirping songs that he tried to learn to play. But the boy was not very familiar with the art. He blew so off-key that the feathers stood up on all the small instructors, and they shrieked and fluttered in despair. The boy laughed so much at their eagerness that he dropped the reed.

  He started up again and it went just as badly, so that all the small birds complained. ‘Today you play worse than usual, Thumbkin. You don’t make a clear tone. Where are your thoughts, Thumbkin?’

  ‘Somewhere else,’ said the boy, and this was true. He was wondering about how long he would get to stay there with the wild geese or if he would be sent home, perhaps today.

  Suddenly the boy threw aside the reed and jumped down out of the bus
h. He had seen Akka and all the geese coming up to him in a long row. They walked so unusually slowly and solemnly that the boy thought he understood at once that now he would find out what they intended to do with him.

  When they finally stopped, Akka said, ‘You have every good reason to wonder about me, Thumbkin, for not having thanked you for saving me from Smirre Fox. But I am the sort who prefers to say thank you with action rather than words. And now, Thumbkin, I think that I have succeeded in doing you a great favour. I have sent a message to that gnome who bewitched you. To start with he did not want to hear any talk of curing you, but I have sent message after message to him and told him how well you have conducted yourself among us. Now he says to tell you that as soon as you return home, you will get to be a human.’

  But think, as happy as the boy had been when the wild goose started to speak, he was just as distressed when she ended! He did not say a word, but instead simply turned away and cried.

  ‘What in the world is this?’ said Akka. ‘It looks as if you expected more from me than I have offered you.’

  But the boy thought about carefree days and amusing jokes, about adventures and freedom and travels high up over the earth, which he would miss, and he really howled with distress. ‘I don’t care about becoming human,’ he said. ‘I want to go with you to Lapland.’

  ‘I will tell you something,’ said Akka. ‘That gnome is very touchy and I am afraid that if you don’t accept his offer now it will be hard for you to persuade him another time.’

  A strange thing about this boy was that as long as he lived, he had never liked anyone. He did not like his father and mother or his schoolteachers or his schoolmates or the boys on the neighbouring farms. Everything they had wanted him to do, whether it was play or work, he had only thought was boring. For that reason now there was no one that he missed or longed for.