Two days have gone by. In the parish clerk’s day-room the brothers sit round the table, chanting the alphabet as it is read out to them, now by the parish clerk himself, now by his little eight-year old daughter. So, a-b-c books in hand, they practise reading with perspiring brows. But only five of the sons of Jukola are to be seen on the benches round the table. Where can Juhani and Timo be? There, near the door, they stand in the corner of shame, and their hair, which has newly been coiled round the parish clerk’s muscular fist, still sticks up in a high tangle.

Very slowly the brothers’ learning has proceeded, the fear-inspiring strictness of their teacher tending rather to damp their zeal and their spirits than to carry them onward. Juhani and Timo hardly knew more than the letter A; the others’ knowledge has progressed a few letters further. Only Eero had proved a great exception to the rest, and having left the alphabet behind him, worked nimbly at spelling.

Evening drew nigh, but through the whole of that day the brothers had not yet broken their fast. For the parish clerk, who had laid an embargo on their provisions, was trying the effect of hunger on their willingness to learn. And so, nipped by a raging hunger, Juhani stood in his nook, shaking his round head, spitting and casting malevolent, bull-like glances at his teacher. At his side Timo nodded, heedless of the way of the world--At last, however, the parish clerk broke off the lesson, saying: ‘Stop now and eat, you wooden horses, champ like browsing goats in a garden. But remember, after this meal not a crumb of food shall pass your lips until the alphabet is in your heads, you hard-headed bulls. One hour I give you for your meal, but not a step shall you take yet outside the door. I believe the healthiest thing is to prolong your arrest until night, much the healthiest. Open your mouths now, for your bags shall be in your hands this minute.’

Thus saying he departed and sent the brothers their provisions by a serving maid, after which the door was firmly fastened.

TIMO. Where’s my bag?

LAURI. There’s thine and here’s mine. I could eat little stones.

JUHANI. Now we shan’t eat a single morsel!

LAURI. What? Aren’t we to eat now?

JUHANI. Not a morsel!

LAURI. As well hold back the sea with thy palm.

JUHANI. Leave the bags sweetly in peace.

AAPO. What is thy idea?

JUHANI. To spite the parish clerk. We won’t eat now until tomorrow has dawned. My blood boils, boys, and my head goes round like Keitula’s windmill. But spite against spite.

AAPO. Such spite would make the old man laugh heartily.

JUHANI. Let him laugh! I’m not going to eat.--Eero syells already, oh ay.--I’m not going to eat.

TUOMAS. Neither am I here, but on Sonnimäki Heath yonder. There I’ll soon be sitting on a bolster of heather.

JUHANI. Right! There we’ll soon be tumbling.

EERO. I agree to your plan, boys.

AAPO. What madness now?

JUHANI. Away out of captivity!

AAPO. Brains ahoy!

JUHANI. Sonnimäki’s pines ahoy!

EERO. Just so! And our brains answer: ahoy!

JUHANI. Answer like a man.

AAPO. Simeoni, try thou thy best.

SIMEONI. Behave yourselves, brothers! But I must say we weren’t meant for readers, and so farewell to all work in that field. All the same, let our lives be blameless and decent; for we can live like Christian people without being able to read, if we only believe.

AAPO. Thou tearest down, confound it, instead of building up.

JUHANI. Simeoni speaks the tongue of justice and fairness. Out of this, boys; my nature can stand no more.

TUOMAS. It makes my heart ache to see Juhani being pounded. Out of this, boys!

JUHANI. The matter’s settled. But don’t pity me, Tuomas; for revenge is in my hand. Here I’ve been put through the mill, torn like crab-bait, of a truth! And in my pocket I have a big handful of flax, flax heckled by the parish clerk. But if this bunch doesn’t once stop up the parish clerk’s gullet, it will be because I shall have made a machine or some sort of works of it. The parish clerk has a throat, ay, he has a throat; but I’ll say no more.

EERO. I know another, perhaps a better, way of using it. We could twist the hair thou savest in thy pocket into a fine fishing-line, to give to the parish clerk as a present for his good teaching. But why do I incite thee to sin, when I know, as all of us can agree with one mind, that punishment does a powerful lot of good?

JUHANI. Eero spells already. Look at the good boy, look.

EERO. Shame enough to be learning spelling at my age.

JUHANI. At thy age? What about our ages?

SIMEONI. He’s mocking us.

JUHANI. Ay, go on mocking, thou tare in Jukola’s wheatfield, thou bitter leavening in Jukola’s Christian brother-dough, thou hedgehog, thou prickly little swine, thou frog!

SIMEONI. Hush, for the parish clerk’s sake, hush!

JUHANI. Out of the dungeon, all with a single mind! The one who tries to stop us now will get a whacking.

TUOMAS. Off away, all of us!

AAPO. Timo, thou stout-willed brother, what sayest thou?

TIMO. That ‘a coat can’t be made of birch-bark, or a parson out of an old man’, so let us all go, all with a single mind. I can fix the matter in another proverb: ‘An axe is ground on both sides’.

AAPO. Lauri, what art thou going to do?

LAURI. I’m off to Sonnimäki.

AAPO. Ah! Though the dead were to cry from their graves; ye truants, ye madmen!

JUHANI. Even that wouldn’t help, but off and away, lad. Art thou coming? Else--Lord Almighty!--there’ll be a flash and a crash from here. Art thou coming?

AAPO. I’ll come, but first a word.

TUOMAS. A thousand words wouldn’t help now.

JUHANI. Not even if every word had a thousand swords.

EERO. And every sword a thousand blades.

JUHANI. A thousand fire-spitting blades. Just so; it wouldn’t help a bit. Away from Marstrand, away from Siberia, away from the dreadful jungle like seven balls out of the cannon’s mouth! Here’s both a ball and a cannon, a loaded cannon that gets hotter and hotter, that’s red-hot now and’ll soon go off. O beloved brothers and kinsmen and offspring of the same mother! You saw how he twisted this forelock round his fore-finger, then grabbed with all his fist like this, look, like this, and then shook me until my teeth rang. Grrh!

TUOMAS. I saw it and my cheeks bulged with anger.

EERO. I heard Juhani’s teeth ring and saw Tuomas’s cheeks bulge and was terrified, but then I thanked God on your behalf, remembering all the good punishment can do.

JUHANI. Don’t, my dear brother, bring a fuse near the cannon’s touch-pan, namely, into these two ears, don’t do it.

TUOMAS. Why wilt thou annoy him, Eero?

JUHANI. Eero is the parish clerk’s good boy. Well, that’s good too, very good. But what harm have I done for the parish clerk to torture me like this? Is it a crime that I have such a hard head? It wouldn’t take much to make me cry.

TIMO. What have I done that my hair should be tugged so very hard? Is it because I have the brains God in his wisdom once gave me?

LAURI. I too have had my hair pulled three times.

JUHANI. All of us have sweet memories of this place.--The door open!

AAPO. Mark, we are behind closed doors.

TIMO. There’s a prop against the door, a strong prop.

JUHANI. It’ll break like a blade of grass; but on the other hand, there’s the window. One swipe with my bag and you’ll hear a musical tinkling and clinking.

AAPO. Is thy head altogether addled now?

JUHANI. With two days’ shaking, two days’ shaking, my boy!

SIMEONI. Don’t let us break the window, anyhow, but let us speak nicely with the parish clerk.

JUHANI. Go to Hell and speak nicely with the Devil!--The window to pieces and away out of prison. ‘Out the whole battalion!’ shouted the captain in his anger.

TUOMAS. Bolt the door, Eero.

EERO. Right; bolt the castle gate while the battalion marches out of the fort’s back-door.--The door’s bolted.

AAPO. I warn you!

JUHANI. What’s done is done. See that!

AAPO. Thou awful man, openly godless!

SIMEONI. There now! It’s done! There went the window.

JUHANI. The window crashed and heaven flashed, at one swipe of Juhani’s bag! That was a bang in Lazy-Jake’s style.

SIMEONI. Poor us!

JUHANI. The road’s open, wilt thou be off?

SIMEONI. I’ll come with you, brother dear.

JUHANI. Aapo, the road’s open, art thou coming?

AAPO. Why lift thy fist, madman. I’ll come, I’ll come. What else can I do, with the Devil once in my sleigh?

JUHANI. Fire and lightning!

TUOMAS. Bags on back now and out of the window! The porch shakes with footsteps.

JUHANI. Is it the parish clerk? I’ll smack him.

TUOMAS. Come!

JUHANI. It’s the parish clerk. I’ll smack him a little.

TUOMAS. Away! say I.

JUHANI. Don’t step in my way now. I love thee, brother Tuomas.

TUOMAS. I won’t let thee do deeds of terror. Hurry now with me out of the window; there the others run already across the potato-patch. Come!

JUHANI. Let go! Why dost thou fear deeds of terror? I’ll only take him gently across my knee, lift up the long skirts of his coat and smack him with my naked hand, and this hand will do the work well. Let go, dear brother, or my heart’ll burst like Kork’s bagpipes. Let go! thou seest how my head steams.

TUOMAS. We are eternal enemies if thou dost not obey me now. Heed what I say.

JUHANI. Let’s go then. But I wouldn’t agree to this if I didn’t love thee with all my heart.

They ceased talking, cast themselves out of the window on to the hillside, and ran swiftly across the parish clerk’s potato-patch. The pebbles rattled in the ditches, clumps of soil flew high into the air, and soon one after the other they were lost to view in a dense grove of alders. Then the parish clerk, the picture of awful rage, burst in, waving a stout bamboo stave. In a high-pitched, screaming voice he called the truants, but in vain. Out on the other side of the alder-grove dashed the brothers; onward over a stony, rock-bestrewn strip of ground they ran, onward through a thick belt of juniper, onward through the rectory’s big, reed-edged meadow, over a wide, echoing clearing, until they stood on the sandy road under Sonnimäki’s sloping side. Up the cobbly slope they strode, and reaching the ridge, decided to pitch their camp at the foot of some pines, on ground covered with heather; and soon the smoke of their fire was wafted among the tree-tops.

High was the site on which the brothers camped. Behind a hill they could see the mansard roof of the rectory, and on the hill itself was the parish clerk’s red building, the large village, and in a belt of spruce the grey stone parish church, magnificent, solemn. They saw, further, a lake dotted with rocks, now streaked by the northeast wind, which blew gently and swooningly under the clear sky, fanning the lake, the meadows and forests and the pines on Sonnimäki, at whose foot the brothers now rested and baked turnips beside a blazing camp-fire.

JUHANI. Now for a real royal meal.

TIMO. A real gentleman’s meal.

JUHANI. Beef from our bags and stewed turnips from the ashes. They will be ripe this minute.

The wind it blows and the tree-tops sway, My love’s voice echoes far away ...

What ox-like daftness on our part to sit on the parish clerk’s bench, a-b-c in hand, sit for two devilish days.

EERO. Ah, but to stand in the corner, that was something different.

JUHANI. Good, my Eero, my wise Eero, my six-inch Eero, thou hop-o’-my-thumb.--In the parish clerk’s corner! I’ll teach the little imp.

AAPO. Keep quiet, you heathens!

TUOMAS. Sit in peace, Juhani, and take no notice of what he says.

JUHANI. Take thy cap off while eating, thou dwarf.

TUOMAS. Cap off, say I too.

JUHANI. There then. Thou hadst to obey.

SIMEONI. Always nagging, nothing but nagging. God light up your souls and hearts!

JUHANI. He’s always making trouble.

EERO. It’s I am always in your accursed teeth--‘that midge, that hop-o’-my-thumb, that little button Eero’. But that’s why I’m tough.

JUHANI. Thou art a snappy-tongued puppy, as it says in the song ‘Seven Men Strong’.

EERO. I can bite back and hard.

JUHANI. Thou art full of bile.

AAPO. May I say a word? Eero said something that I believe has a mite of truth in it. Sec, the bile he sometimes spreads around him, we ourselves have helped a lot in cooking. But let us remember that we are all creatures of the same Creator.

TIMO. Quite so. ‘If I have two snouts, one like a boot-tree, the other like a loaf’, what has that to do with others? I myself have to carry them. But let’s drop noses and posies, Creators and creations now. Here, Juhani, here’s a turnip, soft as a toadstool. Seize on that and never mind that scamp’s remarks. He is young and without understanding.--Eat, brother mine.

JUHANI. I’ll eat all right.

TIMO. Now we’re like at a wedding on this high, echoing hill.

JUHANI. Like at Heaven’s wedding. But I must say we were tortured real cruelly down there in Hell a little while ago.

TIMO. ‘Sometimes dashed down, sometimes uplifted’, so it is with us in this world.

JUHANI. That’s it. What dost thou say, brother Aapo?

AAPO. I have tried my best, but all to no good. Now I too will let myself go for once and leave the tiller of our lives in fate’s hand. Here I sit.

JUHANI. Here we sit and there under our feet lies the whole world. The parish clerk’s house glows there like a red cockerel, and yonder the spire of God’s temple rises on high.

AAPO. At the foot of that temple we shall sit once in the black stocks of shame, sit with bent heads, like seven young crows on a fence, listening to people say, as they point to us: there sit the lazy Jukola brothers.

JUHANI. The day will never dawn when the sons of Jukola, with heads bent like young crows on a fence, sit in the black stocks of shame, listening to people saying, as they point to us: there sit the lazy Jukola brothers. That day will not dawn; I’d sooner hang myself, or march to the very end of the world, to the battalion at Heinola to swing a rifle. ‘What do I care, a scapegrace so young?’ Now, brothers, now that we have eaten, let’s sing, let’s yell until the heath shakes.

SIMEONI. Let’s bless ourselves and go to sleep.

JUHANI. First a song: ‘What do I care’. Clear thy throat, Timo.

TIMO. I’m ready.

JUHANI. How about Eero-lad? Friends again?

EERO. Friends and brothers.

JUHANI. All’s well then. Screw up thy throat.

EERO. It’s already in tune.

JUHANI. Good! And listen you others to the pines quaking.--Now boys!

What do I care, a scapegrace so young, Broad in the shoulder and lusty of lung? Fra-la ra-la ra-la ra-la ra-la ra-la-lah!

Away to the ranks of the soldiers so grand At Heinolatown I am off thro’ the land. Fra-la ra-la ra-la ra-la ra-la ra-la-lah!

For bishops and priests I care not a fig, Soon I’ll be dressed in a hero’s gay rig. Fra-la ra-la ra-la ra-la ra-la ra-la-lah!

Swifter my bay horse, for soon we shall crack An Emperor’s rations, the hardest of tack. Fra-la ra-la ra-la ra-la ra-la ra-la-lah!

What do I care, a scapegrace so young, Broad in the shoulder and lusty of lung? Fra-la ra-la ra-la ra-la ra-la ra-la-lah!

JUHANI. That’s the way! This is the right place for us.

SIMEONI. Less noise, less noise! You’re bawling like a legion of goblins.--Hush, hush! there are travellers coming.

JUHANI. Travellers! Look closer, and thou wilt see a pack of gypsies, the ‘Rajamäki Regiment.’

The party which now approached was a certain nomad family whose only home was a little hut on the clearing on Rajamäki Hill, for which reason it was known to the world as the Rajamäki Regiment. Its leader is the Mikko known to all, a short, but nimble man with a black felt hat on his head. He hawks pitch on his journeys and uses the gelder’s sharp knife nimbly. He professes also the art of fiddling, drawing a squeaky music from his dark-red instrument at numerous dances and bee-parties, where he wets his throat wherever hospitality is proffered.--His wife Kaisa is a skilful cupper, a snuffy-faced, irascible old woman. Few are the bath-houses she fails to awaken, on passing, into a smoking activity, for the cupping of the women of the neighbourhood. Then Kaisa’s cupping-axe dances, her tongue works and her snuffy face sweats fearfully, but her bag also swells visibly.--They have a number of children who follow them in their wanderings from village to village and from farm to farm. Two of them already foot it on their own, romp merrily around their parents along the road, now ahead and now behind, but the three youngest form the load in the little waggon propelled by the parents, Kaisa always pulling at the shafts, while Mikko pushes from behind with his staff. And where the Rajamäki Regiment wanders the din is loud. This was the noisy party, about which a wag had composed a long mocking ballad, giving to it the family’s name, that now came along the road below Sonnimäki Heath, as the brothers, merry as goats, enjoyed their freedom on the high ridge of the heath.

JUHANI. Hallo-o! Greeting, thou aforementioned regiment, greeting!

TIMO. ‘Hustotaytill?’ says the Swede.

EERO. ‘Kappusiveye?’ says the Russian.

KAISA. What do you want, you up there?

EERO. The old girl to come and suck a whopping thorn from the brown thigh of Juhani here.

JUHANI. The old woman to tap and suck while the old man plays, now wouldn’t that go well together.

MIKKO. I give the devil to you, you Jukola bandits.

EERO. The old man doesn’t want to play. Well then it’s for us to sing, and a real rousing march.

JUHANI. A rousing march as the Rajamäki Regiment marches past. Now boys, Timo and Eero!

Now we’re off a-wandering Round the land and back, Gelding and a-blood-letting Hawking pitch so black.

At the shafts with snuffy face Kaisa you will find; Mikko, chewing, keeps the pace, Pushing hard behind.

JUHANI. Just so! This is a real jolly, rollicky bit of a song.

KAISA. I’ll let you know, you devil’s food up there, that we always walk in honour, but you, you slink round other people’s forests like robbers and beasts of prey. I cup people, I do, and bring health; Mikko gelds and makes fat swine, fine bulls and bonny geldings for the King of Kings to ride on; know that, you devils!

JUHANI. A couple of verse on top of that sermon, boys! Timo and Eero, my stout lads! All together!

Kaisa smacks her nether lip, Sets the blood a-running; Mother Jane in Kaisa’s grip Tells her tales of cunning.

But yonder on the farmyard side Why this sudden shrieking? The boars and geldings try to hide, The piglets fall a-squeaking.

Why this tumult ’mongst the boars? What makes the piglets scream? See: as Mikko farmward soars His knife is seen to gleam.

JUHANI. Truly a jolly rollicking song. Can that be denied, Mikko?

MIKKO. Close thy bread-trap and quickly, and know that I am Master Mikko himself, who nipped the Governor’s stallion over a clean sheet without spilling a single drop of blood. And for that trick got a stifficate that the Emperor of Rome couldn’t belittle. That’s the sort of Mikko I am.

EERO. Oh thou double Boar-gelder Mikko with thy witch of a wife!

KAISA. See that I don’t turn you all into a pack of wolves, as my grandfather once did a proud wedding company.

JUHANI. Here I still stand, the same old Juhani Jukola, in my own breeches, and so with God’s help I hope to stand from now onward too. Thy witch’s tricks, poor woman, can do no more than they did two years ago when thou foretoldest the end of the world and made many a wife beg her husband’s pardon for past scoldings without the slightest need.

KAISA. Hear what I prophesy now.

EERO. Thou prophesiest and wishest us a hot bath, with thou thyself to cup us in the neck.

JUHANI. But that’s a vain prophecy and wish. True I do mean to heat the bath-house when I come home and bathe right heartily, but I’m in no mind to have the Adam’s pelt opened at my neck.

KAISA. Listen, listen! Fire shall eat up thy bath-house and thy dwelling too, and in wretched state shalt thou wander forth through forests, bogs and marshes, seeking shelter for thy perishing body. Ah! bloodily wilt thou yet fight with men and the beasts of the forest, after which, puffing like a dying hare, thou wilt lay down thy accursed head in a bush. Hear me and remember.

JUHANI. To Hell....

TUOMAS. Shut up now, shut up!

SIMEONI. Thou godless man, bewitched!

JUHANI. Go to red-hot Hell! Go to the parish clerk and bewitch his throat with the everlasting mumps.

EERO. So that he’ll sing like an old long-tusked boar in Mikko’s hands.

JUHANI. Ay, and go to the Rector, to that hypocritical and rich, fat and greasy Rector.... What shall we order him! Say, Eero.

EERO. May it happen to him at Bible meeting as it happened to the publican at Oulu’s gate; may a big cat-pie appear in his sack.

JUHANI. Ay, a Paltamo pasty, with a cat, a hairy, furry cat inside.

EERO. And let him make a sermon of it next Sunday so full of wrath and fury that his fatty stomach bursts of a sudden with a loud bang.

JUHANI. Ay, and then may the Old ’Un take him up on his back and fly away with him as is the Devil’s way with parsons.

EERO. Let him carry off the rich and mighty Rector for company to the rich man.

JUHANI. There’s the greeting we bid thee carry to the parish clerk and the Rector. And if thou dost this, thou canst turn me into a wolf, if thou likest, as thou hast threatened.

EERO. A wolf so fierce that it eats up the whole Rajamäki Regiment at one gulp.

JUHANI. Ay! And the bag of horns into the bargain.

EERO. And the pitch-sack for savoury.

JUHANI. Just so, thou son of a hammer.

KAISA. Good! The rector and the parish clerk shall hear your message, and you will find this soup in your bowls yet, you accursed! Send ’em a parting greeting with a stone, Mikko; split open their skulls.

MIKKO. Here’s a good pebble, as though made to order.--Take that, you squinting goats!--Quick march, Kaisa! now we’re off.

JUHANI. The scoundrel! Threw a stone, and it was a near thing I didn’t get it on the head.

EERO. Let’s send the ball back.

JUHANI. Make the old fellow’s hat rattle!

TUOMAS. Don’t throw, lad, if thou wouldst spare thy poll.

AAPO. Can’t you see, rascals, that there are children there?

JUHANI. Hold thy stone; they’re galloping off already until the heath thunders.

SIMEONI. Oh you wicked wretches, you Calmucks and savages! Even a peaceful traveller can’t pass you in peace. Oh you bandits!

JUHANI. What, I, who wouldn’t hurt a hair of their heads? But look you, when a man feels real mad and mighty spasms run through his bonny carcase, he--thou knowest what. Two days and two nights this lad has been shut up in a tower. But I sent a grand greeting to the parish clerk to ease my mind a little.

AAPO. And still more foolish ones to the Rector. We shall have cause to rue these greetings yet.

JUHANI. ‘What do I care, a scapegrace so young’. Life, a young man’s life, is just like this roaring, echoing heath. Yonder in the northeast Impivaara’s steep fell shows, and yonder in the northwest the lake by the village gleams, and I can even see other lakes, there on the edge of the air as though in eternal distance. I can see the three lakes of Kolistin there.

It can’t be helped, it can’t be helped, I’ll jump into the lake; My sweetheart is so mad to-day And hisses like a snake.

On the surface of that lake our old parish clerk often sits with a fishing rod in his hand. Ah! if he only squatted there now and I were a fierce gust of wind, a raving squall from the southeast. I know well where I’d charge with a roar, and the parish clerk’s punt would soon be upset.

SIMEONI. What a sinful wish!

JUHANI. It’s what I’d do; I’d upset the punt so that the water boiled around him like gruel.

TIMO. To the wolves for their dinner, a man like him!

JUHANI. I’d dash him into a wolf-pit and then walk blissfully round it.

AAPO. Once the fox, bearing a grudge against the bear, tricked poor Bruin into a pit. And then he laughed heartily and walked round the pit, talking mockingly. After that he got on to a wild-cat’s back, and the wild-cat took him up into a big spruce that grew close by. The fox then began to sing for joy and to call together the winds from the four quarters of the earth, commanding them to play the harp of the spruce to his song. Came the east, west and south winds, and the spruce roared and crackled loudly. Came the north wind, charging across the mossy, gloomy forests, screaming and crashing. Then the spruce stormed, quivered and bowed down deeply, until at last it broke and fell down over the pit, throwing as it fell the fox into the bear’s arms down in the pit.

TIMO. The devil! What then?

JUHANI. Thou canst easily guess what happened then. I bet the bear took a firm hold of the fox by the scruff and shook him until his teeth rattled, like the kind parish clerk did me.--But I understand what Aapo means. He wants to remind me that he who digs a pit for others can fall into it himself. That may be, but I’d like to see the parish clerk fall into a pit all the same.

TIMO. My heart too wouldn’t be against seeing the parish clerk stumble into a pit. But I wouldn’t keep the old beggar there too long. Two hours, only two hours. And may this be enough. Let the parish clerk live in peace without even falling into the pit of my angry heart. But one thing surprises me. How can you believe such rubbish about a fox and a bear? Why, brothers, a fox can’t even talk nonsense, let alone call together all the four winds. You believe this, but I make it out a downright lie.

JUHANI. We all know that Timo’s head is not one of the sharpest in this world.

TIMO. Maybe not. But with this head I walk through the world as honourably as thou or anyone else, man or woman.

AAPO. Timo doesn’t understand a fable.

JUHANI. Not a bit does the poor boy understand it. But if I were to explain it to thee? This matter between the bear and the fox is likely from those times when all the animals and even the trees could speak, as it says in the Old Testament; and this I heard from our old blind uncle.

AAPO. Even thou dost not understand a fable and its purpose.

TIMO. And yet ‘the kettle mocks the pot, black in the ribs the two’.

JUHANI. Art thou trying to be clever, man? Believe me, I thank God that I am not as stupid as thou, poor Timo.

TIMO. What if thou’rt not? I see no harm in it.

EERO. Do thou, Timo, as the publican once did; only smite thy breast, and we’ll see which of you marches home the better man.

JUHANI. Ay! did it touch Little-Eero, publican thyself?

EERO. It touched the chief publican, that Little-Zacchaeus on a sore spot.

JUHANI. I give a fig for thy jests, and lay me down to slumber sweet. I’ll turn my back on all of you and sleep like an ant’s nest under the snow.--But God help us! this is an awful place we have settled in.

AAPO. How so?

JUHANI. Why, there lies that strange, terrifying rock that always answers so mournfully to the noise of the church bells. And look at those eyes in it which stare so unwinkingly at us. I’m scared! Let’s leave this spot in the Lord’s name.

TUOMAS. Let us sit here in peace.

JUHANI. But the forest-spirit is stern and angry here.

AAPO. Only towards those who swear or do other godless deeds. So take care of thyself. The tale of those images on the rock-side is a story of far-off days.

LAURI. Wilt thou tell us this tale?

AAPO. Look carefully at the rock first. You’ll see there something that looks like four shining golden spots. These are the melting eyes of two lovers, a fair maiden and a gallant youth; you will see their images graven in the rock. Look at them, with your eyes half-shut. There they sit, entwined in the most loving embrace. Lower down, at the young people’s feet, is an old warrior, bowed down and pierced by a sword.

TIMO. It’s quite as thou sayest.

LAURI. I too believe I can see something of the sort there. But go on with the tale.

And Aapo told them this tale:

A grand castle once stood somewhere here, and the lord of this castle was a rich and mighty man. He had a stepdaughter, a motherless girl, sweet and fair as the morn. A youth loved the maiden, but the castle’s terrible master, in whose heart love had never found room, hated both the youth and the maiden. The girl too loved the noble youth, and they would often meet on this echoing heath. And it was just the foot of this rock that was their trysting-place. But the father found out the young people’s secret and once uttered a fearful vow in the maiden’s ear. ‘Daughter’, he said, ‘see that I don’t catch you two embracing in the forest’s night. Know that my sword will then be swift to wed you in bloody death. This I promise and swear by all that is holy’. This he said, and fear gripped the maiden as she heard the vow. Nevertheless, she forgot not the friend of her heart, and the flame of her love only burned the brighter.

It was a calm summer night. In the maiden’s breast a feeling awoke that the youth was pacing on the heath, awaiting his own true love. So at last, when she believed everyone in the castle was asleep, she set forth, wrapped in a big, finely-woven shawl; set forth on her love-adventure, and creeping out like a shadow, was soon lost to view in the forest, and a blue shawl flickered once in a dewy thicket. But everyone in the castle was not asleep; there against a window stood the master of the castle himself, spying on the maiden, who like a ghost of night faded from his view. Whereupon he girt on his sword, seized a spear, and hastening after the maiden was also soon lost to sight among the trees. A blood-thirsty beast hunting a mild-eyed lamb.

Up towards the heath hurried the panting maiden and there met her friend, at the grey rock’s base. There they stood, lovingly embracing each other and whispering the language of love in a blissful hour. They stood no longer on the face of this earth; their spirits wandered in Heaven’s flowery meadows.--So passed a few short moments; then all of a sudden the terrible lord dashed forth and thrust his sharp spear in the maiden’s left side with such force that its point came out of the young man’s right, thus joining them together in death. They drooped towards the rock, and their blood gushed forth in a single stream, dyeing the cheeks of the heather-blossoms. There, united in bonds of steel, they sat on their rocky throne, silent, yet all the time lovingly embracing each other. And ravishingly, like four golden stars, their eyes shone upon the castle’s mighty master, who looked in wonder upon this strange calm picture in the very jaws of death. Suddenly a thunderstorm arose, the heavens flashed and rumbled, but in the lightning’s bluish glare the young people’s eyes still shone blissfully, as four candles might burn in the holy air of Heaven. Upon all this the murderer looked while the wrath on high raged around and above him. Powerfully the beautifully fading eyes of the lovers spoke to his soul, equally powerfully the foaming torrent of their blood and the crashing sky. And for the first time his mind was touched, as with cold and black regret in his heart he gazed upon the wondrous eyes of the dying, which smiled without cease at him. His heart knew fear and he trembled as the lightning flashed and eternity thundered, and spirits of dread gathered all around him. A boundless fury seized his soul.

Once more he looked upon the youthful lovers: and still the same shining eyes, though dimmer now, looked smiling back at him. Then, folding his arms across his breast, he began, with frozen glance, staring eastward; and thus he stood for long, dumb in the gloomy night. But at last and suddenly he lifted his breast high and shouted a long shout, long and terrifically loud, a shout that echoed roaring through the neighbourhood. Then for a space he was silent again, while he listened carefully, until the last echo of his cry had sunk into the bosom of the farthest hill. And when this had come to pass, he shouted terrifically again, still staring towards the east, and the forest heard the echoes for long, while he closely followed their passage from hill to hill. But at last the distant trembling voice died down, the lightning rested, and the shining eyes were extinguished; and only a heavy rain sighed in the forest. Then suddenly, as though awakening from a dream, the castle’s master snatched the sword from his scabbard, pierced his breast with it, and fell at the lovers’ feet. And once more the heavens flashed, flashed and thundered; but silence soon reigned everywhere again.

Morning came, and the dead were found on the heath at the foot of a grey rock; they were borne away and room was made for them side by side in the same grave. But afterwards their images were seen in the rock; one saw a youth and a maiden, embracing each other, and under them, on his knees, a grim, bearded warrior. And four marvellous studs, like four golden stars, shone in the rock by night and by day, reminding men of the rapture in the fainting eyes of the lovers. And it was a thunderbolt, so runs the tale, that in its flight inscribed these images in the rock. And like in this picture, the youth and maiden sit in happiness on a throne on high; and like the warrior is seen cowering there, so must he cower on a bed of punishment in parching air. Whenever the church bells ring, he bends his ear carefully to catch the sound, listening to the echo given out by the rock; but up to now its sound has been mournful. Once, however, a wondrously gentle and joyous sound will issue from the rock, and then the hour of the man’s atonement and forgiveness will have come, but the day of all the world will also then be nigh. And that’s why people always listen with such unrest to the echo from this rock when the church-bells ring. Gladly would they welcome the dawn of the man’s day of release, but remember with terror that the end of the world will then have come.

This tale Aapo told to his brothers on Sonnimäki Heath.

TIMO. The old boy has to sweat. Right to the Day of Judgment! Oho!

SIMEONI. Thou dolt, see that the trumpet of judgment doesn’t bray this very minute.

EERO. No fear of the world ending so long as there are heathens on the face of the earth. Why, God ha’ mercy! here are seven benighted heathens right in the midst of Christendom. There’s nothing so bad but that there’s something good in it. We are pillars of this world, we are.

JUHANI. Thou a pillar of the world? Six-inch!

SIMEONI. Thou’lt tremble, Eero, tremble like the Devil, when the day approaches which thou now mockest.

TIMO. That he won’t; I’ll stand for that. Oho! there’ll be a din and commotion then. Two commotions have been already, the third is still to come. And then the great sign of bliss will appear; then the world’ll fall to dust and ashes like an old birch-bark slipper. Then the cattle in the clearings will bellow and the pigs squeak fearfully in the lanes, that is, if this ruin comes upon us in summer-time; but if it comes in winter, then the cattle will go mad and bellow in the sheds and the poor pigs squeal in their styes. There’ll be a row then, boys. Oho! Two commotions have been, the third is still to come, or so our blind uncle said.

SIMEONI. Ay, ay, let us remember that day.

JUHANI. Shut up, will you, brothers. God preserve us! You quite turn a man’s heart inside-out with such talk. Let’s go to sleep, let’s go to sleep.

So they conversed, but at last their conversation died down, and sleep overcame them, one after the other. Last of all Simeoni sat awake, leaning against the bulging root of a pine. He sat and pondered gravely over those final moments of the world and the great day of judgment. His eyes burned with a reddish, moist, mild fire, while the ruddy flush of his coarse cheek shone afar. But at last he too slept. And so they all lay sleeping beside their campfire, which blazed for a while, then sank gradually and was extinguished.

The day declined and twilight deepened into night. The air was muggy and hot; an occasional flash lit up the northeast as an angry thunderstorm climbed up the sky. With the speed of an eagle it drew near to the village, casting down fire from its womb, until it suddenly set ablaze the rector’s barn, which, being full of dry straw, soon burst into mighty flames. The bells began to clamour and the village awoke into activity; people hurried everywhere to the fire, a stream of men and women, but in vain. Luridly the barn blazed, and blood-red shone the bowl of the sky. But the storm now hastened towards Sonnimäki, where the brothers slept sweetly, the heath resounding with their snores. A terrible crash is now to awaken them, in a terror greater than any they have known in their lives. Their dream-delirious minds will stand aghast when, with all nature raging around them in the cheerless night, the gloomy tale and the accounts of the end of the world recur to them. And all the light they will see in the night will be the flashing of thunderclouds and the reflection of the fire in the village.

The flash came, and on its heels followed a burst of thunder so loud that it instantly woke up the sleeping brothers. Shouting loudly in shrill voices, they sprang up from the ground as one man, and with the hair standing upright on their heads like rustling reeds and eyes like rings in their heads, they stared at each other for a moment or two.

SIMEONI. The Day of Judgment!

JUHANI. Where are we, where are we?

SIMEONI. Are we going already?

JUHANI. Save us, mercy!

AAPO. Terrible, terrible!

TUOMAS. Indeed terrible.

TIMO. The Lord preserve us poor lads!

SIMEONI. How the bells are ringing!

JUHANI. And the rock jangles and dances! Hii! Ha!

SIMEONI. ‘The bells of Heaven are ringing!’

JUHANI. ‘And strength forsakes my limbs!’

SIMEONI. Is this how we go?

JUHANI. Help us, Mild and Merciful!

AAPO. Oh terror!

JUHANI. Tuomas, Tuomas, grab hold of the tail of my coat. Hii! Ha!

SIMEONI. Hii! Haa! Now we’re off, we’re off!

JUHANI. Tuomas, my brother in Christ!

TUOMAS. Here I am. What dost thou want?

JUHANI. Pray!

TUOMAS. Ay, try to pray now.

JUHANI. Pray, Timo, if thou canst!

TIMO. I’ll try.

JUHANI. Do it soon!

TIMO. O Lord, O sorrow great, O merciful throne of Bethlehem!

JUHANI. What does Lauri say?

LAURI. I don’t know what to say in this misery.

JUHANI. Ay, misery, bottomless misery! But I’m beginning to think the end is not just yet.

SIMEONI. Oh if we were granted even a single day!

JUHANI. Or a week, a precious week! But what are we to make of this ghastly light and the clatter of bells?

AAPO. There’s a fire in the village, good people.

JUHANI. Ay, Aapo, and that’s the warning bell ringing.

EERO. The rectory barn’s afire.

JUHANI. A thousand barns can burn down as long as this wretched world still stands and we seven of its sinful children on it. Lord help us! My whole body’s swimming in a stream of cold sweat.

TIMO. I won’t say my own trousers aren’t shaking.

JUHANI. A matchless moment!

SIMEONI. So God punishes us for our sins.

JUHANI. True! Why did we sing that nasty song about the Rajamäki Regiment.

SIMEONI. You mocked shamelessly at Mikko and Kaisa.

JUHANI. Why say it! But God bless them! God bless us all, every one, even the parish clerk.

SIMEONI. That prayer found favour in Heaven.

JUHANI. Let us leave this dreadful place. The fire shows here like the fiery furnace of the damned, and there those eyes shine so mournfully at us from the rock-side. Know that it was Aapo’s tale of those cat’s-eyes that caused this shaking in our backbones. Let’s be off, and don’t any of you forget your bags and a-b-c books. Away brothers! Let’s march to Tammisto to see Kyösti; to Kyösti’s with God’s help, and then home tomorrow, if we’re still alive.

LAURI. We’ll soon have the rain pouring down our necks and will be wet as rats.

JUHANI. Let it rain, let it rain! We were still spared. Come on now!

Marching quickly in a row, they hurried off and soon came to the sandy road, where they turned off towards Tammisto Farm. To the flashing of fire and the roll of thunder they marched on for a while, until a streaming rain began to pour over them. At that they increased their pace to a run until they arrived at the ‘Kulomäki spruce’, a tree famous for its height and the denseness of its branches, which stood by the roadside, a shelter for many a wanderer in the rain. At the foot of this spruce the brothers sat until the rain abated, and the great spruce roared above them. But when the weather lifted, they continued their journey. And nature grew calm again, the wind died, the clouds fled and the moon rose palely out of the tree-tops. Leisurely and without a care the brothers then strode along the wet road.

TUOMAS. I’ve often wondered where the thunder comes from and what it can be, those flashes and that noise.

AAPO. Our blind uncle told us this mutiny in the heavens comes when dry sand gets borne by the wind between masses of cloud.

TUOMAS. Would it be that?

JUHANI. A child’s mind can fancy anything. How was it I, a little brat in my shift, pictured the thunder? It was God driving rattling along the streets of Heaven, and fire flashed from the stony road and the iron rim of his wheels. Ha-ha! A child has a child’s mind.

TIMO. What about me! I too imagined something of the sort when as a tiny imp I toddled along the lane while the thunder rumbled, toddled there with a little bit of a shirt on me. God’s ploughing his field, thinks I, and cracking his ox-tail whip and each swipe makes the round flanks of his fat bay strike sparks, as we see the sparks fly from a horse’s croup when we wipe it down. Ay, childish ideas.

SIMEONI. I thought as a child and still think: the heavens’ flash and thunder proclaim God’s wrath at the sinners on earth; for the sins of men are great, countless as the sands of the sea.

JUHANI. Sins are committed down here, that can’t be denied, but a sinner is well boiled down here too in salt and pepper. Think, my boy, of our trip to school and what we had to bear there. The parish clerk scratched and shook us like a hawk; I feel it yet and grind my teeth, my boy.

The road ended and Tammisto Farm drew nigh, and the brothers gravely entered and were given comfortable beds by Kyösti. This Kyösti, a man sturdy as an oak, was the only son of the house, but had never cared to take over the management of the farm, preferring to be alone, to follow his own bent. At one time he had wandered as in a fever through the villages, preaching and shouting; and it was said that much thinking about religion had brought him to this pass. And when at last he had awakened from his state, he was otherwise the same as before, but he never smiled again. And one curious thing came to pass, that ever afterwards he regarded the Jukola brothers as his best friends, though he had hardly known them before. This was the man with whom the brothers sought shelter for the night.