The Bond of Friendship

The Bond of Friendship

By Hans Christian Andersen (1862)

We have lately taken a little journey together, and now we want to take a longer one. Whither ? To Sparta, to Mycene, to Delphi ? There are a hundred places at whose names the heart beats with the desire of travel. On horseback we go up the mountain paths, through brake and through brier. A single traveller makes an appearance like a whole caravan. He rides forward with his guide, a packhorse carries trunks, a tent, and provisions, and a few armed soldiers follow as a guard. No inn with warm beds awaits him at the end of his tiring day’s journey : the tent is often his dwelling-place in the great wild region ; the guide cooks him a pilau of rice, fowls, and curry for his supper. A thousand gnats swarm round the tent. It is a’ miserable night, and to-morrow the way will lead across swollen streams ; sit fast on your horse that you may not be washed away !

What is your reward for undergoing these hardships ? The fullest, richest reward. Nature manifests herself here in all her greatness ; every spot is historical, and the eye and the thoughts are alike delighted. The poet may sing it, the painter portray it in rich pictures ; but the air of reality which sinks deep into the soul of the spectator, and remains there, neither painter nor poet can reproduce.

The lonely herdsman yonder on the hills would, perhaps, by a simple recital of an event in his life, better enlighten you, who wish in a few features to behold the land of the Hellenes, than any writer of travel could do.

‘ Then/ says my Muse, ‘ let him speak’

A custom, a good, peculiar custom, shall be the subject of the mountain shepherd’s tale. It is called Our rude house was put together of clay ; but the doorposts were columns of fluted marble found near the spot where the house was erected. The roof reached almost down to the ground. It was now dark brown and ugly, but it had originally consisted of blooming olive and fresh laurel branches brought from beyond the mountain. Around our dwelling was a narrow gorge, whose walls of rock rose steeply upwards, and showed naked and black, and round their summits often hung clouds, like white living figures. Never did I hear a singing bird there, never did the men there dance to the sound of the bagpipe ; but the spot was sacred from the old times : even its name reminded of this, for it was called Delphi ! The dark solemn mountains were all covered with snow ; the highest, which gleamed the longest in the red light of evening, was Parnassus ; the brook which flowed from it near our house was once sacred also. Now the ass sullies it with its feet, but the stream rolls on and on, and becomes clear again. How I can remember every spot in the deep holy solitude ! In the midst of the hut a fire was kindled, and when the hot ashes lay there red and glowing, the bread was baked in them. When the snow was piled so high around our hut as almost to hide it, my mother appeared most cheerful : then she would hold my head between her hands, kiss my forehead, and sing the songs she never sang at other times, for the Turks our masters would not allow it. She sang :

‘On the summit of Olympus, in the forest of dwarf firs, lay an old stag. His eyes were heavy with tears ; he wept red, green, and even pale blue tears ; and there came a roebuck by, and said, ” What ails thee, that thou weepest those blue, green, and red tears ? ” And the stag answered, ” The Turk has come to our village : he has wild dogs for the chase, a goodly pack.” ” I will drive them away across the islands,” cried the young roebuck, ” I will drive them away across the islands into the deep sea ! ” But before evening sank down the roebuck was slain, and before night the stag was hunted and dead.’

And when my mother sang thus, her eyes became moist, and on the long eyelashes hung a tear ; but she hid it, and baked our black bread in the ashes. Then I would clench my fist and cry,

‘ We will kill the Turks ! ‘

But she repeated from the song the words, ‘ I will drive them across the islands into the deep sea. But before evening sank down the roebuck was slain, and before the night came the stag was hunted and dead.

For several days and nights we had been lonely in our hut, when my father came home. I knew he would bring me shells from the Gulf, of Lepanto, or perhaps even a bright gleaming knife. This time he brought us a child, a little half -naked girl, that he carried under his sheep-skin cloak. It was wrapped in a fur, and all that the little creature possessed when this was taken off, and she lay in my mother’s lap, were three silver coins, fastened in her dark hair. My father told us that the Turks had killed the child’s parents ; and he told so much about them that I dreamed of the Turks all night. He himself had been wounded, and my mother bound up his arm. The wound was deep, and the thick sheep-skin was stiff with frozen blood. The little maiden was to be my sister. How radiantly beautiful she looked ! Even my mother’s eyes were not more gentle than hers. Anastasia, as she was called, was to be my sister, because her father had been united to mine by the old custom which we still keep; They had sworn brotherhood in their youth, and chosen the most beautiful and virtuous girl in the neighbourhood to consecrate their bond of friendship. I often heard of the strange good custom.

So now the little girl was my sister. She sat in my lap, and I brought her flowers and the feathers of the mountain birds : we drank together of the waters of Parnassus, and slept, cheek to cheek, under the laurel roof of the hut, while my mother sang winter after winter about the red, green, and pale blue tears. But as yet I did not understand that it was my own countrymen whose many sorrows were mirrored in those tears.

One day there came three Frankish men. Their dress was different from ours. They had tents and beds with them on their horses, and more than twenty Turks, all armed with swords and muskets, accompanied them ; for they were friends of the pasha, and had letters from him commanding an escort for them. They only came to see our mountains, to ascend Parnassus amid the snow and the clouds, and to look at the strange black steep rocks near our hut. They could not find room in it, nor could they endure the smoke that rolled along the ceiling and found its way out at the low door ; therefore they pitched their tents on the small space outside our dwelling, roasted lambs and birds, and poured out strong sweet wine, of which the Turks were not allowed to partake.

When they departed, I accompanied them for some distance, carrying my little sister Anastasia, wrapped in a goat-skin, on my back. One of the Frankish gentlemen made me stand in front of a rock, and drew me, and her too, as we stood there, so that we looked like one creature. I never thought of it before, but Anastasia and I were really one. She was always sitting in my lap or riding in the goat-skin at my back, and when I dreamed, she appeared in my dreams.

Two nights afterwards, other men, armed with knives and muskets, came into our tent. They were Albanians, brave men, my mother told me. They only stayed a short time. My sister Anastasia sat on the knee of one of them, and when they were gone she had not three, but only two silver coins in her hair. They wrapped tobacco in strips of paper and smoked it. I remember they were undecided as to the road they were to take.

But “they had to make a choice. They went, and my father went with them. Soon afterwards we heard the sound of loud firing, soldiers rushed into our tent, and took my mother, and myself, and my sister Anastasia prisoners. They declared that the robbers had been entertained by us, and that my father had acted as the robbers’ guide, and therefore we must go with them. Presently I saw the bodies of the robbers brought in ; I saw my father’s body too. I cried and cried till I fell asleep. When I awoke, we were in prison, but the room was not worse than ours in our own house. They gave me onions to eat, and musty wine poured from a tarry cask, but we had no better fare at home.

How long we were kept prisoners I do not know ; but many days and nights went by. When we were set free it was the time of the holy Easter feast. I carried Anastasia on my back, for my mother was ill, and could only move slowly, and it was a long way till we came down to the sea, to the Gulf of Lepanto. We went into a church that gleamed with pictures painted on a golden ground. They were pictures of angels, and very beautiful ; but it seemed to me that our little Anastasia was just as beautiful. In the middle of the floor stood a coffin filled with roses. ‘ The Lord Christ is pictured there in the form of a beautiful rose,’ said my mother ; and the priest announced, ‘ Christ is risen ! ‘ All the people kissed each other : each one had a burning taper in his hand, and I received one myself, and so did little Anastasia. The bagpipes sounded, men danced hand in hand from the church, and outside the women were roasting the Easter lamb. We were invited to partake, and I sat by the fire ; a boy, older than myself, put his arms around my neck, kissed me, and said, ‘ Christ is risen ! ‘ and thus it was that for the first time I met Aphtanides.

My mother could make fishermen’s nets, for which there was a good demand here in the bay, and we lived a long time by the side of the sea, the beautiful sea, that tasted like tears, and in its colours reminded me of the song of the stag that wept for sometimes its waters were red, and sometimes green or blue.

Aphtanides knew how to manage a boat, and I often sat in it, with my little Anastasia, while it glided on through the water, swift as a bird flying through the air. Then, when the sun sank down, the mountains were tinted with a deeper and deeper blue, one range peeped over the other, and behind them all stood Parnassus with its snow-crowned summit. The mountain-top gleamed in the evening rays like glowing iron, and it seemed as though the light came from within it ; for long after the sun had set, the mountain still shone through the clear blue air. The white water-birds touched the surface of the sea with their wings, otherwise all here was as calm and quiet as among the black rocks at Delphi. I lay on my back in the boat, Anastasia leaned against me, and the stars above us shone brighter than the lamps in our church. They were the same stars, and they stood exactly in the same positions above me, as when I had sat in front of our hut at Delphi ; and at last I almost fancied I was back there. Suddenly there was a splash in the water, and the boat rocked violently. I cried out, for Anastasia had fallen into the water ; but in a moment Aphtanides had sprung in after her, and was holding her up to me ! We took off her clothes, wrung out the water, and then dressed her again ; Aphtanides did the same for himself, and we remained on the water till they were dry ; and no one knew what a fright we had had for our little adopted sister, in whose life Aphtanides now had a part.

The summer came. The sun burned so hot that the leaves turned yellow on the trees. I thought of our cool mountains, and of the fresh water they contained ; my mother, too, longed for them ; and one evening we wandered home. What peace, what silence ! We walked on through the thick thyme, still fragrant though the sun had scorched its leaves. Not a single herdsman did we meet, not one solitary hut did we pass. Everything was quiet and deserted ; but a shooting star announced that in heaven tnere was yet life. I know not if the clear blue air gleamed with light of its own, or if the radiance came from the stars ; but we could see the outlines of the mountains quite plainly. My mother lighted a fire, roasted some roots she had brought with her, and I and my little sister slept among the thyme, without fear of the ugly Smidraki, from whose throat fire spurts forth, or of the wolf and jackal ; for my mother sat beside us, and I thought that was enough.

We reached our old home ; but the hut was a heap of ruins, and a new one had to be built. A few women lent my mother their aid, and in a few days walls were raised, and covered with a new roof of oleander branches. My mother made many bottle-cases of bark and skins ; I kept the priest’s little flock, and Anastasia and the little tortoises were my playmates.

Once we had a visit from our beloved Aphtanides, who said he had greatly longed to see us, and who stayed with us two whole happy days.

A month afterwards he came again, and told us that he was going in a ship to Corfu and Patras, but must bid us good-bye first ; and he had brought a large fish for our mobher. He had a great deal to tell, not only of the fishermen yonder in the Gulf of Lepanto, but also of Kings and heroes, who had once ruled in Greece, just as the Turks rule now.

I have seen a bud on a rose bush gradually unfold through days and weeks, till it became a rose, and hung there in its beauty, before I was aware how large and beautiful and red it had become ; and the same thing I now saw in Anastasia. She was now a beautiful grown girl, and I had become a stout stripling. The wolf-skins that covered my mother’s and Anastasia’s bed, I had myself taken from wolves that had fallen beneath my shots.

Years had gone by, when one evening Aphtanides came in, slender as a reed, strong and brown. He kissed us all, and had much to tell of the great ocean, of the fortifications of Malta, and of the marvellous sepulchres of Egypt. It sounded strange as a legend of the priests, and I looked up to him with a kind of veneration.

‘ How much you know ! ‘ I exclaimed ; ‘ what wonders you can tell of ! ‘

‘ But you have told me the finest thing, after all,’ he replied. ‘ You told me of a thing that has never been out of my thoughts of the good old custom of the bond of friendship, a custom I should like to follow. Brother, let you and I go to church, as your father and Anastasia’s went before us : your sister Anastasia is the most beautiful and most innocent of girls ; she shall consecrate us ! No people has such grand old customs as we Greeks.’

Anastasia blushed like a young rose, and my mother kissed Aphtanides.

A couple of miles from our house, there where loose earth lies on the hill, and a few scattered trees give a shelter, stood the little church ; a silver lamp hung in front of the altar.

I had put on my best clothes : the white fustanella fell in rich folds round my hips, the red jacket fitted tight and close, the tassel on my fez cap was silver, and in my girdle gleamed a knife and my pistols. Aphtanides was clad in the blue garb worn by Greek sailors ; on his chest hung a silver plate with the figure of the Virgin Mary ; his scarf was as costly as those worn by rich lords. Every one could see that we were about to go through a -solemn ceremony. We stepped into the little simple church, where the evening sunlight, streaming through the door, gleamed on the burning lamp and the pictures on golden ground. We knelt down on the altar steps, and Anastasia came before us. A long white garment hung loose over her graceful form ; on her white neck and bosom hung a chain, covered with old and new coins, forming a kind of collar. Her black hair was fastened in a knot, and confined by a headdress made of silver and gold coins that had been found in the old temples. No Greek girl had more beautiful ornaments than she. Her countenance glowed, and her eyes were like two stars.

We all three prayed silently ; and then she said to us, ‘ Will you be friends in life and in death ? ‘

‘ Yes,’ we replied.

‘ Will you, whatever may happen, remember this : my brother is a part of myself. My secrets are his, my happiness is his. Self-sacrifice, patience everything in me belongs to him as to me ? ‘

And we again answered, ‘ Yes.’

Then she joined our hands and kissed us on the forehead, and we again prayed silently. Then the priest came through the door near the altar, and blessed us all three ; and a song, sung by the other holy men, sounded from behind the altar screen, and the bond of eternal friendship was concluded. When we rose, I saw my mother standing by the church door weeping heartily.

How cheerful it was now, in our little hut, and by the springs of Delphi ! On the evening before his departure, Aphtanides sat thoughtful with me on the declivity of a mountain ; his arm was flung round my waist, and mine was round his neck : we spoke of the sorrows of Greece, and of the men whom the country could trust. Every thought of our souls lay clear before each of us, and I seized his hand.

‘ One thing thou must still know, one thing that till now has been a secret between myself and Heaven. My whole soul is filled with love ! with a love stronger than the love I bear to my mother and to thee ! ‘

‘ And whom do you love ? ‘ asked Aphtanides, and his face and neck grew red as fire.

‘ I love Anastasia,’ I replied and his hand trembled in mine, and he became pale as a corpse. I saw it ; I understood the cause ; and I believe my hand trembled. I bent towards him, kissed his forehead, and whispered, ‘ I have never spoken of it to her, and perhaps she does not love me. Brother, think of this : I have seen her daily ; she has grown up beside me, and has become a part of my soul ! ‘

‘ And she shall be thine ! ‘ he exclaimed, ‘ thine ! I may not deceive thee, nor will I do so. I also love her ; but to-morrow I depart. In a year we shall see each other once more, and then you will be married, will you not ? I have a little gold of my own : it shall be thine. Thou must, thou shalt take it.’

And we wandered home silently across the mountain. It was late in the evening when we stood at my mother’s door.

Anastasia held the lamp upwards as we entered : my mother was not there. She gazed at Aphtanides with a strangely mournful gaze.

‘ To-morrow you are going from us,’ she said : ‘ I am very sorry for it.’

Sorry ! ‘ he repeated, and in his voice there seemed a trouble as great as the grief I myself felt. I could not speak, but he seized her hand, and said, ‘ Our brother yonder loves you, and he is dear to you, is he not ? His very silence is a proof of his affection.’

Anastasia trembled and burst into tears. Then I saw no one but her, thought of none but her, and threw my arms round her, and said, ‘ I love thee ! ‘ She pressed her lips to mine, and flung her arms round my neck ; but the lamp had fallen to the ground, and all was dark around us dark as in the heart of poor Aphtanides.

Before daybreak he rose, kissed us all, said farewell, and went away. He had given all his money to my mother for us. Anastasia was my betrothed, and a few days afterwards she became my wife.

  Indeks over H.C. Andersens eventyr — Index of Hans Christian Andersen Fairy tales