`Stay still, and let me look about, and see what I never have seen before,’ said Petru again to his horse. For in front of him stretched a forest that was far more wonderful, as it was made of glistening trees and shining flowers. It was the silver wood.
As before, the flowers began to beg the young man to gather them.
`Do not pluck them,’ warned the Welwa, trotting beside him, `for my brother is seven times stronger than I’; but though Petru knew by experience what this meant, it was no use, and after a moment’s hesitation he began to gather the flowers, and to twist himself a wreath.
Then the storm wind howled louder, the earth trembled more violently, and the night grew darker, than the first time, and the Welwa of the silver wood came rushing on with seven times the speed of the other. For three days and three nights they fought, but at last Petru cast the bridle over the head of the second Welwa.
`Sweet be your life, for you have delivered me from enchantment,’ said the second Welwa, and they all journeyed on as before.
But soon they came to a gold wood more lovely far
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than the other two, and again Petru’s companions pleaded with him to ride through it quickly, and to leave the flowers alone. But Petru turned a deaf ear to all they said, and before he had woven his golden crown he felt that something terrible, that he could not see, was coming near him right out of the earth. He drew his sword and made himself ready for the fight. `I will die!’ cried he, `or he shall have my bridle over his head.’
He had hardly said the words when a thick fog wrapped itself around him, and so thick was it that he could not see his own hand, or hear the sound of his voice. For a day and a night he fought with his sword, without ever once seeing his enemy, then suddenly the fog began to lighten. By dawn of the second day it had vanished altogether, and the sun shone brightly in the heavens. It seemed to Petru that he had been born again.
And the Welwa? She had vanished.
`You had better take breath now you can, for the fight will have to begin all over again,’ said the horse.
`What was it?’ asked Petru.
`It was the Welwa,’ replied the horse, `changed into a fog `Listen! She is coming!’
And Petru had hardly drawn a long breath when he felt something approaching from the side, though what he could not tell. A river, yet not a river, for it seemed not to flow over the earth, but to go where it liked, and to leave no trace of its passage.
`Woe be to me!’ cried Petru, frightened at last.
`Beware, and never stand still,’ called the brown horse, and more he could not say, for the water was choking him.
The battle began anew. For a day and a night Petru fought on, without knowing at whom or what he struck. At dawn on the second, he felt that both his feet were lame.
`Now I am done for,’ thought he, and his blows fell thicker and harder in his desperation. And the sun came
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out and the water disappeared, without his knowing how or when.
`Take breath,’ said the horse, `for you have no time to lose. The Welwa will return in a moment.’
Petru made no reply, only wondered how, exhausted as he was, he should ever be able to carry on the fight. But he settled himself in. his saddle, grasped his sword, and waited.
And then something came to him — what I cannot tell you. Perhaps, in his dreams, a man may see a creature which has what it has not got, and has not got what it has. At least, that was what the Welwa seemed like to Petru. She flew with her feet, and walked with her wings; her head was in her back, and her tail was on top of her body; her eyes were in her neck, and her neck in her forehead, and how to describe her further I do not know.
Petru felt for a moment as if he was wrapped in a garment of fear; then he shook himself and took heart, and fought as he had never yet fought before.
As the day wore on, his strength began to fail, and when darkness fell he could hardly keep his eyes open. By midnight he knew he was no longer on his horse, but standing on the ground, though he could not have told how he got there. When the grey light of morning came, he was past standing on his feet, but fought now upon his knees.
`Make one more struggle; it is nearly over now,’ said the horse, seeing that Petru’s strength was waning fast.
Petru wiped the sweat from his brow with his gauntlet, and with a desperate effort rose to his feet.
`Strike the Welwa on the mouth with the bridle,’ said the horse, and Petru did it.
The Welwa uttered a neigh so loud that Petru thought he would be deaf for life, and then, though she too was nearly spent, flung herself upon her enemy; but
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Petru was on the watch and threw the bridle over her head, as she rushed on, so that when the day broke there were three horses trotting beside him.
`May your wife be the most beautiful of women,’ said the Welwa, `for you have delivered me from my enchantment.’ So the four horses galloped fast, and by nightfall they were at the borders of the golden forest.
Then Petru began to think of the crowns that he wore, and what they had cost him.
`After all, what do I want with so many? I will keep the best,’ he said to himself; and taking off first the copper crown and then the silver, he threw them away.
`Stay!’ cried the horse, `do not throw them away! Perhaps we shall find them of use. Get down and pick them up.’ So Petru got down and picked them up, and they all went on.
In the evening, when the sun is getting low, and all the midges are beginning to bite, Peter saw a wide heath stretching before him.
At the same instant the horse stood still of itself.
`What is the matter?’ asked Petru.
`I am afraid that something evil will happen to us,’ answered the horse.
`But why should it?’
`We are going to enter the kingdom of the goddess Mittwoch,2 and the further we ride into it the colder we shall get. But all along the road there are huge fires, and I dread lest you should stop and warm yourself at them.’
`And why should I not warm myself?’
`Something fearful will happen to you if you do,’ replied the horse sadly.
`Well, forward!’ cried Petru lightly, `and if I have to bear cold, I must bear it!’
With every step they went into the kingdom of Mittwoch, the air grew colder and more icy, till even the
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marrow in their bones was frozen. But Petru was no coward; the fight he had gone through had strengthened his powers of endurance, and he stood the test bravely.
Along the road on each side were great fires, with men standing by them, who spoke pleasantly to Petru as he went by, and invited him to join them. The breath froze in his mouth, but he took no notice, only bade his horse ride on the faster.
How long Petru may have waged battle silently with the cold one cannot tell, for everybody knows that the kingdom of Mittwoch is not to be crossed in a day, but he struggled on, though the frozen rocks burst around, and though his teeth chattered, and even his eyelids were frozen.
At length they reached the dwelling of Mittwoch herself, and, jumping from his horse, Petru threw the reins over his horse’s neck and entered the hut.
`Good-day, little mother!’ said he.
`Very well, thank you, my frozen friend!’
Petru laughed, and waited for her to speak.
`You have borne yourself bravely,’ went on the goddess, tapping him on the shoulder. `Now you shall have your reward,’ and she opened an iron chest, out of which she took a little box.
`Look!’ said she; `this little box has been lying here for ages, waiting for the man who could win his way through the Ice Kingdom. Take it, and treasure it, for some day it may help you. If you open it, it will tell you anything you want, and give you news of your fatherland.’
Petru thanked her gratefully for her gift, mounted his horse, and rode away.
When he was some distance from the hut, he opened the casket.