The Countess of Höjentorp1
Shortly after King Charles XI. had confiscated most of the property of the nobility to the use of the crown, he came, one day, while upon one of his journeys to Höjentorp, where his aunt on his father’s side, Maria Eufrosyna, lived.
On the stairs, as he was about to enter her dwelling, he was met by her and at once saluted with a sound box on the ear. Astounded, the king burst out:
“It is fortunate that it is I whom you have struck! but why are you in such a combative mood, my aunt?”
“Why?” said the countess. “Because you have taken all my possessions from me.”
Conducting the king to the dining hall, the countess sat before him to eat a herring’s tail and an oat cake.
“Have you no better fare for me than this?” asked the king.
“No,” replied the lady; “as you have spread the cloth so must you dine.”
“Aunt,” said the king, “if you will give me your gold and silver, I will provide for you richly to your death.”
“Shame on you!” interrupted the countess. “Will you not allow me to keep so little as my gold and silver, either?” and, advancing upon him, she gave him a second box on the ear, which so alarmed the king that he beat a hasty retreat and commanded that the countess be left in peaceful possession of her property to the end of her days.
On Skalunda Hill, near Skalunda Church, there lived, in olden times, a giant, who, much annoyed by the ringing of the church bells, was finally compelled to move away, and took up his residence on an island, far away in the North Sea. One time a ship was wrecked upon this island, and among those of her crew rescued were several men from Skalunda.
“Where are you from?” inquired the giant, who was now old and blind, and was stretched out warming himself before a fire of logs.
“We are from Skalunda, if you wish to know,” said one of the men.
“Give me your hand, for I wish to know if still there is warm blood in Sweden,” said the giant.
The man, afraid of the grasp of the giant, drew a glowing iron rod from the fire, which he extended to the giant, who, grasping it with great force, squeezed it until the iron ran between his fingers.
“Ah, yes, there is still warm blood in Sweden,” exclaimed he, “but does Skalunda Hill still exist?”
“No, the birds have scratched it down,” answered the man.
“It could not stand,” remarked the giant, “for my wife and daughter built it one Sunday morning. But how is it with Halle and Hunneberg? They remain, surely, for I myself built them.”
Upon receiving a reply in the affirmative, he asked if Karin, a giantess, still lived, and when to this he was answered yes, he gave them a belt and bade them take it to Karin and say to her that she must wear it in his memory.
The men took the belt, and upon their return home gave it to Karin, but, before she would put it upon herself, she wrapped it around an oak which was growing near by. Hardly was this done when the oak was torn from the ground, and sailed off northward as if in a gale. In the ground where the oak stood, there was left a deep pit, and here to-day is pointed out the best spring in Stommen.
Notes
1 This legend is noteworthy as showing how time and fancy often clothe the historical fact in mythical garb. The reader’s attention is called to similar cases in this collection, among them the Lord of Ugerup, Bishop Svedberg and the Devil, Lady Barbro, of Brokind, Jonas Spits, etc.