And Edvard said to his wife Brita: No one ought to let a field lay in fallow because he himself couldn’t use it. If one farmer can’t sow sprouting seed, the neighbor must do it. If she could have children she must have them. He would hire a man for the work he himself couldn’t perform, if she was willing. Personal pride must not stand in the way with him. He himself wanted an heir so badly he had decided to get a man and pay him well; he would in advance make the understanding that he himself would be considered the father. All depended on her, if she was willing.
At first the wife was unwilling. It was against her nature to give herself in that way to a strange man. Instead, she had thought they might adopt a child, some orphan perhaps.
But when Brita of Hogahult had thought over her husband’s suggestion for some time, she changed her mind: Rather than raise an unknown child she would prefer to bring up a child she herself had given life to. She asked only one condition: that she herself choose the man who was to make her with child.
To this Edvard agreed.
Some little time passed again and both husband and wife kept their eyes open for young men or fathers who might be able and willing. But they didn’t find a one.
Just about that time a new soldier came to the village, and he often came to work in Hogahult. His name was Ferm, he was thirty years of age, well built, and strong as a bull. He had a wife and six children and he had a hard time feeding his large family. They were often without bread in the soldier’s cottage. Often the children had to go out and beg for bread before they went to school.
And Brita said to her husband that the soldier was a strong and healthy man, free of all defects — royal soldiers must be first class in all ways. He had so many children already he must surely be able to make one more. And his family was so poor the father would need a little extra. If they were to hire a man for her she would accept Ferm.
When the soldier had worked on their farm Edvard had valued him greatly. He thought him a fine man. He agreed with his wife.
He went to see him and gave him the offer: They needed an heir in Hogahult, they would prefer a male child, but they would be satisfied with only a girl, in which case they might eventually get a son-in-law to take over the farm. The soldier would be well rewarded: If a son were born he would receive forty bushels of rye, if a daughter, twenty, heaped measure. But their agreement must be kept secret, not a word must leak out.
It was a generous offer, at once tempting to soldier Ferm. On his little plot he harvested barely ten bushels a year, which was far too little to keep his family in bread, and he had to work for others many days of the year. Now he would get many times his yearly yield without work! If the wife in Hogahult was shaped the way a woman should be it would be easy work for him to make her with child. And he had never thought that a man would be paid for so pleasant a labor. He himself had had to pay — in more drudgery and labor and worry for each new child he fathered with his wife. Indeed, he was afraid that his ability to beget children would make him a real pauper in the end. This gift would now help him and his family.
The farmer and the soldier were agreed and sealed their agreement with a handshake.
Edvard said to his wife that he would drive to Karlshamn with some logs and stay away as long as she thought would be needed. Exactly how long they couldn’t be sure, at first they thought a week, but finally they settled for three days. If this wasn’t enough he would have to make another trip to town.
During Edvard’s absence the soldier would come to the farm and do day labor.
The farmer drove away, the soldier came. It was shortly before Christmas and the days were short. Nor did Ferm perform any heavy labor these days. But instead of returning home in the evenings, as he used to, he now remained at the farm overnight. His night work was now his real duty. And the soldier did his duty at the farm during the part of the year when the nights are the longest.
For three long nights the farmer remained away from the house.
When Edvard returned from town he was met by his wife, who was satisfied and full of confidence. She said she felt sure the three days he had been away were not lost days. She did not think he would have to drive any more logs to town.
After a few months the Hogahult mistress began to broaden around the waist. She was satisfied, her husband was satisfied.
But in the soldier’s cottage Ferm was very worried. He was worrying about his reward, the bushels of rye: Suppose he was so unlucky that it was a girl. Then he would get only twenty bushels. And if he were real unlucky she might have a miscarriage and he wouldn’t get a single grain. That would be hell. And all his life he had only had bad luck — couldn’t it change for once for a poor village soldier?
And change it did for the soldier in the end: When her days were accomplished the wife in Hogahult bore triplets, three sons.
A triple birth had not taken place in the parish as far back as anyone could remember. But all three boys were well shaped and full of life. The mother was a little weak in her body after her delivery, but she was happy and satisfied in her soul. Her husband was pleased and more than that. He was overwhelmed. One day he had no heir, and the next day three were crying lustily. He was pleased, but he would have been better pleased if the number had been smaller. And as he looked at the three boys in the three cradles he thought what luck he hadn’t stayed away a week as they first had figured on; three nights was quite sufficient.
The farmhouse was filled with happiness, and in the soldier’s cottage the children’s father jumped to the ceiling: forty bushels for each male child! One hundred twenty bushels of rye for bread!
When the farmer of Hogahult paid off his agreement he had to scrape his bins and borrow forty bushels from a neighbor. His wife said Ferm was well worth his pay. Edvard said, as he measured the rye for the soldier, that he had only been talking about one heir, but he had enough rye for three. And no one could accuse Ferm of poor work; he should have his pay. Best of all — Edvard’s brothers had taken to their beds at the news of the triplets in Hogahult and they were quite sick.
However much they ate in the soldier’s cottage they couldn’t consume more than a couple of bushels a month. With three nights’ work on the farm the soldier had supplied his family with food for five years.
Ferm did not work any more on his plot. He put it in fallow and lay all day in the cottage and did nothing. He felt well off. Why should he work when he already had bread for wife and children? His bins were so full of rye they spilled over. Why get more grain when he already wallowed in it? Why worry about the future when it was already taken care of?
The soldier’s place grew neglected, weeds overran the fields, and the farmers were bitterly jealous of the soldier who pretended and acted like a lord while they had to labor from early to late in the sweat of their brows. And it began to be whispered about in the village: Where had the triplets in Hogahult come from? The couple had been childless for so many years. Where had all the rye in the soldier’s cottage come from? They had always been without bread. People added one and two together and the sum they arrived at was very near the truth. And when Ferm was drunk he liked to brag and couldn’t prevent words of wisdom, like these, from escaping: It didn’t pay to work at day labor if he could find night work, and could sow sprouting seed.
Others completed the half-sung song, and that was how the story about the farmer and the soldier got to be known.
But it didn’t hurt anyone. Edvard in Hogahult had got three sons who thrived and grew up to be helpers to him when he was getting old. The triplets were fine youngsters and much joy to their parents, who were greatly honored by them in their old age. Both sides of the partnership had received what they needed and wished, both the farmer family and the soldier family were as happy as people can be in this world. Providence had arranged everything to the best for the people in the two places.