Once upon a time there lived a landlord of noble birth who ruled over a great number of people and owned vast estates.

He lived in a lonely fortified castle which lay hidden away amidst forests, moors and bogs like a bear's den. Strong walls and deep moats surrounded it and guarded it well against any hostile invasion. People said that the landlord had chosen that lonely place because he wanted to hide his riches from curious eyes and keep thus thieves and robbers away. It was thought that the castle's large stone cellars were filled with gold and silver and that the owner could have bought a whole kingdom with the money, if he had only wished so.

Although the landlord had wealth more than enough, he seemed to be pestered by ill luck in his family life. All his young wives had unexpectedly died one after another and left him spouseless. But the widower had never wasted any time in mourning, and in a short while he had gone awooing again. Upon reaching his prime he was said to have buried eleven wives already, when he went to seek the hand of a twelfth maiden.

It is common knowledge that a rich man can always woo a wife because a golden trap lures girls by the dozen. Still this particular rich suitor had to face some trouble while finding his twelfth wife. At several places he was sent away empty-handed as if he were a poor man. The untimely death of his many young wives had made eligible young women in the neighbourhood suspicious and wary for they thought it quite unnatural that so many healthy brides should have fallen to their graves like withered autumn leaves. There must have been some horrible secret to breed death for the unfortunate young wives. Still the whole thing remained a great puzzle.

When the rich suitor had gone around for some time and had met with several refusals, he made up his mind to try his luck at the manor where a poorish landlord lived with his three lovely daughters. The girls were all as beautiful as rosy apples, but the youngest was even lovelier than the other two. She might have made a stately queen if a prince had ever chosen to ask her to.

From the very outset the smart suitor could not tear his eyes off the youngest maiden and although in her heart she seemed to harbour no warm feelings towards the wooing man, the rich presents of silk, golden necklaces and pearls did their work and warmed up the hearts of everybody. As the father and both the elder sisters were anxious to give the youngest one in marriage to that rich man, the wooed one had but to give in and accept the suitor. The father hoped that the rich son-in-law might become his standby and the sisters expected to benefit by having a rich brother-in-law, who had already promised to get all their fine wedding attire made at his expense.

Because the sisters were extremely fond of each other the elder ones did not envy the youngest sister's good fortune. The suitor suggested that the father-in-law should not trouble to prepare for the wedding as everything would be done at the bridegroom's expense. The bride was to come with her father and sisters to her new home on the wedding day.

So far everything had gone smoothly. The suitor had left for his home in order to start with the wedding preparations. The wedding day had also been fixed. All of a sudden something happened to upset the old father and bring deep grief and sorrow to the future bride. On the estate there lived an orphan who at the age of two had been adopted by his master. As a boy his task had been to look after the geese on the manor farm, but at present he had been serving as a valet for more than a year already. The people on the manor farm still knew him by the name of Tõnu the geese-boy.

He was half a year younger than the youngest daughter of his master. In childhood the two had often been playing together and become great friends. For Tõnu there was no other soul in the whole world whom he could have cherished more than her. He was always ready to fulfil any wish he could read in her eyes. If she but had asked, he would have gone through flame and water for her. When he learnt that his beloved playmate was to be married to a widower, he was beyond himself with grief. For several days he would not touch any food nor sleep a wink at night. He wandered about like a ghost and everybody thought that he must have been taken seriously ill. He had but once laid his eyes on the future husband of his young mistress when the widower was leaving the manor farm, but that sight of him had like a dagger pierced the young man's heart.

He constantly thought, "Ill luck is awaiting my dear mistress, ill fortune is in store for her." And he was on the lookout for a suitable moment to be able to have a few words with her.

One day when the young girl was enjoying her walk in the garden Tõnu humbly approached her and said, "My dear honourable lady, listen to my humble words. I beseech you, do not marry a murderer for he would kill you the same way he has done away with the other eleven wives before you."

The young lady was taken aback by his words and wanted to know how Tõnu could know that the deceased wives of her future husband had met their deaths by a murderous hand. Tõnu replied, "It was my heart that told me this the instant I saw your suitor, and my heart has always proved right."

When the girl told her father and sisters about the incident, the old master flew into such a rage that he threatened to have Tõnu first beaten severely and then set dogs on him and have him driven out of the manor for good. And he might well have carried out his threats but for the young ladies who tried to placate him and make him change his mind. They told him, "It was with the best of intentions that the boy said what he said. He meant no harm, he only wanted to warn her."

A few days later the old master had Tõnu summoned before him and scolded him for his foolish talk. He said in the end, "If you should ever spin those stupid yarns of yours again I'll have you shot like a mad dog." To calm his daughters the old master told them Tõnu had gone out of his mind. Yet the youngest daughter's heart was full of misgivings and she would have refused to marry the widower had it only been possible. But her father and sisters were all for the marriage to take place, and they said, "Do not forfeit your luck so light-mindedly. You will become the wife of a very rich man and you'll live like in heaven, and you'll also be able to help us."

The nearer the wedding day drew the heavier the heart of the bride grew. She could not eat or sleep.

One day she asked Tõnu to come and see her secretly. She asked him what he advised her to do. She knew but too well that her father would not hear of her giving up the marriage.

Tõnu asked the young mistress to take him along with her. "As long as I am near you," he said, "no hand can rise to harm you."

The young lady asked her father's permission to take Tõnu with her to her new home. "I don't mind," said the father, "as long as your husband does not object to it." The suitor frowned upon the idea, but as he did not want his plans to be spoilt, he had to grant her wish.

The wedding party was celebrated at the bridegroom's castle. It was a merry and splendid feast and lasted well into another week. When the guests were leaving they all admitted they had never been to a more magnificent wedding party than that. The father and the sisters of the bride stayed on for some more weeks. When at last they took their leave and left the young couple by themselves in the splendid castle, the generous son-in-law showered them all with costly gifts to take along with them.

A few weeks later the husband said to his young wife, "My dearest love, I am to go and inspect my estates far afield. I shall stay away for three weeks, that is why I have sent a message to your father and asked one of your sisters to come and keep you company in my absence. Your sister is to arrive either this evening or tomorrow morning. While I am away you will be the mistress in the house. See to it that everything is kept in order. Here are the keys. Don't trust them to anybody. You are free to enter any room you like. This box here has a golden key in it. You are not to enter the room opened by this key. Moreover, you are not to unlock that door to see what is inside. I beg you, my dearest love, not to be so vain as to disobey my orders or you will set our happiness in a grave danger. Should you enter the room by chance or deliberately, you will never be able to conceal it from me and then I am to behead you with my own hand."

The young wife was not any too eager to take the golden key that promised death but her husband kept insisting until she had to accept it. On parting she said to him, "You may rest assured for I will never seek to take a look at your secrets unless you reveal them to me yourself one day."

The day after the departure of her husband the elder sister arrived. The two women had no time to feel bored. Time passed pleasantly and quickly. Now and then they remembered how Tõnu's apprehensions had weighed heavily on their hearts and all for no good reason whatsoever. One morning, however, the young mistress's heart grew restless when she was told that Tõnu had disappeared in the night and nobody knew where he was. The night before he had said to his mistress, "I can't explain it but somehow I am greatly worried about you. I fear for your safety. Every night I dream that there is a wicked person standing behind you with the intention to kill you. Every morning I wake from a horrible dream in which you stand by my bed with your head all covered with blood."

Although the mistress had tried to make light of the young man's dream, she remembered that talk when she heard the news of his disappearance. She told the servants to go and look for him everywhere. In the evening the searchparty came back and told her that not a trace of him had been found anywhere. The young mistress felt as if her best and truest friend had left her. Although the sister did her best to alleviate the girl's sorrow she was inconsolable.

It so happened one day that the young mistress proudly showed her sister all the splendour and riches of the house. They walked from one room to another until at last they came to the door of the chamber which the mistress of the house had no right to unlock and enter. Her sister was anxious to see what might be inside and she begged her sister to take the golden key and unlock the door. The young mistress might have been tormented by the same desire but she remembered what her husband had said and repeated that she was not allowed to enter the mysterious room. Her sister laughed thereupon and said, "The key and the lock have no tongues to tell the master that they have been used. What else but some valuable golden things might be hidden 'away in that room which your husband for some strange reason does not want you to see. If men spitefully hide things from their wives, then women have every right to defy their orders. If you are too frightened to unlock the door, pass the key over to me and I'll do it."

Though the young mistress said that she still objected to her sister's wish, in her heart she agreed with her. She took the golden key out of the box and inserted it in the keyhole. She had no sooner turned the key than the door burst open as if by magic.

Great was the fright of the women when they saw the sight that opened up before them in the mysterious chamber. In the middle of the room there stood a block of oak with a broad axe lying on it. The whole floor was blood-stained. The most hideous and horrifying thing that made the women's blood run cold was the sight of a long table at the back of the room with the eleven blood-smeared heads of the former mistresses on it. Those poor souls had met their deaths in this chamber of horrors. Probably they had likewise been too vain to listen to the warning and had had to pay for the trespassing with their lives.

The same terrible death threatened the twelfth mistress now. She realized at once that she could expect no mercy from the ruthless man who had killed his other wives. In her mind's eye she could see her neck on the bloody block and feel the sharp blade of the axe at the nape of her neck. When she staggered away from the threshold in panic, she dropped the key she had held in her hand. She picked it up and found traces of blood on it which no amount of scrubbing would remove, try as she would.

When the women had somewhat recovered from their shock, they attempted to shut the door. To their great horror an invisible wedge seemed to stand between the door and the door post and it could not be closed.

Now there was no end of crying and regretting, but what could all that help! Fortunately there was still a week to go before the master of the house was expected to return. So the sisters hoped to find a way out of their plight.

They spent a sleepless night. Hardly had they dozed off when the sight of the bloody block with the axe upon it made them wake up with a start. In the morning the chambermaid announced that the master of the house had arrived. The young mistress trembled with fear and could hardly stand up. As soon as the master got off his horse, he asked after his wife and rushed upstairs. When he burst into the room, his eyes were burning with such a rage that his terrified young wife felt her legs give way and she slumped back into her seat. He guessed at once what had taken place in his absence and asked for the golden key. With a trembling hand the young wife took the box from her pocket and gave it to her husband. The latter opened the box and found traces of blood on the key. He became purple with rage and his eyes began rolling like fiery wheels. The young wife dared not to look up at him.

"You disobedient creature!" the master roared in an ominous voice. "You are to die a wretched death by my hand because you have trespassed. God in heaven may forgive you some day but I cannot have mercy on you because of your vanity. I entrusted you with all my power and wealth. I gave you riches and wealth so that you might live like a queen in comfort and happiness but you disobeyed me. Prepare yourself for death as you have come to the end of your days!"

The unfortunate wife tried to vindicate herself but the husband shouted at her even more savagely, "Get ready to die. Your days are numbered!" Hearing the clamour, the sister of the unfortunate wife fled in terror and did not dare to show herself as she was afraid for her own life. The young mistress fell upon her knees before her husband and turned her prayers to God, begging Him to soften the heart of the cruel man.

"Enough of that empty talk!" bellowed the master. "Get your head on the block!" When she failed to fulfil the order promptly, the beast grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to the block, forcing her head down on it with his left hand. Then he seized the axe in his right hand, ready to bring it down and kill his unfortunate wife. But just as he stood there with the axe poised in his hand, a heavy blow fell on his head from behind. The blow made him drop the axe and sent him sprawling on the floor. In his fierce rage the master had failed to notice a young man, armed with a heavy stick, follow him while he was dragging his wife to the block. This young man was Tõnu. The mistress had fainted in her agony and fear, and knew nothing of what was going on around her. Tõnu trussed up the master with rope and saw to it that he would not escape. Then he turned his attention to his mistress and tried to revive her. In a few hours his attempts were rewarded as she began to show signs of life and woke from her swoon.

Now the matter was taken to court, and the father was hurriedly summoned. During the trial it became known how the murderer had killed his eleven wives and would have put an end to the twelfth one if it had not been for Tõnu's interference. For his crimes the man was sentenced to death. As he had no close relatives to inherit his wealth, his estates went to his widow, and a part of his property was handed out to the poor.

Although the rich widow had suitors coming from far and near she refused to marry any of them. When a year had passed, she gave her hand in marriage to Tõnu, and they lived happily to the end of their days.

Jason Ladock

Copyrighted material; do not reprint without permission.

 

View all articles by Jason Ladock