The farmer thanked her, and left. He had now a spark of hope, but it was a very tiny spark. How was it possible to obtain three impossible things – a light that did not come from burning, a live chicken without bone, and part of a living animal gained without shedding blood?
As he trudged homeward, his heart grew heavier with every step, for he knew not which way to turn. He was roused from the depths of despair by a voice from the wayside, and looking down, he saw a woeful beggar, thin and hungry as a skeleton, stretched out on the grass.
‘In the name of God, help me!’ gasped the beggar. ‘I am faint with age and hunger, and can go no further without food. Can you help me, sir, before it is too late?’
The farmer heaved a huge sigh, and felt in his pocket for a coin. ‘I can, and I will,’ he said, ‘for though I am yet strong and hearty, I have troubles of my own, and know what it is to need help.’ And he tossed a coin to the beggar, and prepared to move on.
‘Thank you indeed,’ said the beggar, in a stronger voice. ‘You have given help willingly, and it is now my turn to help you. What you need is a glow-worm. A glow-worm will give you light, but will never burn. That is the answer to your first problem.’
The farmer stood staring at the beggar, dumbfounded with amazement; but even as he gazed, the form of the beggar grew less and less distinct till the outlines of his frail figure disappeared completely, and he had vanished into thin air. Astounded by this extraordinary happening, and cheered by the knowledge that at least he had the answer to one question, the farmer strode on with more purpose than before. It was not long before he reached the outskirts of a little wood. Hearing a frightened squawk, and noticing a flurry of wings, he stopped and looked about him. A thrush was darting this way and that, in terror of a kestrel that hovered directly above, with beak and talons at the ready for the kill when he should drop like a stone on his prey. Taking in the situation at once, the farmer stooped swiftly and picked up a stone. Then with unerring aim he let fly the stone at the kestrel, which turned and made off with beating wings, to hover in search of another meal.
The thrush settled on the branch of a hawthorn close by the farmer, and settled its ruffled feathers. Then, to his great wonderment, the bird spoke.
‘I owe you my thanks,’ it said. ‘You saved my life by giving help just when I most needed it. So now I will help you in your need. What you need is an egg that has been sat on for fifteen days. By that time it will contain a live chicken, but there will be no bone in its body.’
The farmer was so astounded that he could not find his voice; but in delight he turned towards the thrush which cocked its head on one side, regarded him with a very bright little eye, and rippled out its silvery song for him three times over. Then, before his very eyes, it dissolved into nothingness. But now he had the answer to two out of three of his problems. His step was almost light as he pondered about the third problem, though this was surely the most difficult of all.
His attention was caught by a despairing shriek from the bottom of a wall, and looking over the wall he saw among the long grass a rabbit kicking in a snare. He leapt the wall and in a moment had set the strangled little creature free. It lay panting on its side for a moment, then recovered itself and sat up on its haunches. The farmer expected it to lollop away as fast as it could, but he was growing used by now to being surprised, and listened with growing hope as it spoke to him.
‘One good turn deserves another,’ said the rabbit. ‘I think. Sir, that I can help you, for I know the answer to your last problem. If you grasp a lizard by its tail, it will escape by leaving the whole of its tail in your hand, and not one drop of blood will be shed.’
Then for the third time on that amazing day the farmer stared as what had appeared to be firm flesh and blood simply vanished from sight without moving.
But his heart was as light as his step as he now hurried towards home. Though he must still collect the gifts for the Fairy King, he knew now what to look for. He had a broody hen already sitting on a clutch of eggs, each one carefully marked with the date on which it was put under her. A few days more, and the fifteenth day would come, when he could take from the nest an egg containing a live chicken that as yet had no bone in its body. A search of the lane by the side of his farm yielded no less than three glow-worms, gleaming green and bright at the root of an old tree. They gave enough light to see by as he carried them gently home, though they certainly did not burn. Next day, out on the hills, he waited till a lizard crept out to sit on a stone and bask in the afternoon sun. Creeping as quietly as a mouse in spite of his large frame, he came silently behind the stone, and pounced on the lizard’s tail. He felt a wriggle and a jerk, and the lizard had gone like a flash of emerald; but he held its tail in his hand. Nor was there the slightest sign of blood upon it.
Overjoyed, he stuck a sprig of magic rowan bush in the bosom of his smock, and another in his cap for good luck; and as soon as the egg was ready away he went to seek the fairies’ cave.
His daughter had described it so carefully that he had little difficulty in finding it, and bending down he called to let them know he was there, and what he wanted. They rushed to the entrance of the cave, but when they saw the sprig of rowan they recoiled, for their power to harm him in any way was completely defeated by it. So they called their king, to deal with the mortal stranger; and when he came, the farmer asked him for his daughter back.
The King of the Fairies had opened his little mouth to deny the request, when the farmer laid before him the glow-worms, the egg and the lizard’s tail. Next moment, the fairies had gone, and his daughter sprang from the mouth of the cave and straight into his arms. She was quite unharmed, and they were soon at home eating dripping toast and looking lovingly at each other across the glowing hearth; but she knows better now than to pick primroses, which are the fairies’ special flowers, or to peep inside their little caves, however enticing the music may be to her ears.
The White Cap
Yet one more warning not to treat the helpful fairies with too much disrespect. This is much nearer to the true ‘fairy tale’ genre than any other tale in this section; hut it is firmly rooted in the day-to-day existence of ordinary people, and may possibly have originated in the miraculous reprieve at the last minute of a child condemned to be hanged for theft.
He was still only very young, in spite of having to work to help his parents keep the wolf from the door; for in those days Herefordshire was a poor county, and poor folk all laboured hard for a living. So the boy went out every morning to work for a farmer a goodish way off, and his road led through a dense wood.
Coming home tired one evening in summer, and thinking more about his supper than where he was going, he missed the path he usually took; and try as he might, he could not find it again. When it began to get dark, he knew himself to be hopelessly lost, so there was nothing for it but to sleep in the wood, and hope for the best. He took off his worn and patched jacket, and made a little pillow of it, choosing a sheltered place under a bush. Then he said his prayers, and, worn out with hunger and weariness as he was, he soon fell fast asleep.
He was aroused from his first deep sleep by the shuffling of another warm body close beside him, and as the night air had by now begun to grown chill, he sleepily snuggled close to it, and slept again. When next he stirred, he roused himself to wakefulness, and peered at his uninvited bedmate. To his horror, he saw a large brown bear, fast asleep still with its head on his little jacket. Then he was very much afraid, and wanted to creep away without waking his queer companion; but long years of childhood spent in poverty made him very much against leaving behind the only jacket he possessed.
Very gently he tried to pull the pillow from beneath the head of the sleeping bear, but with the first movement the bear woke and stood up. Then the child thought his last moment had come, but instead of attacking him, the beast nuzzled and licked him, then ambled away for a few steps before turning to see if the child were following.
It seemed s
uch a gentle, kindly creature that the boy forgot his fears in amazement. It was still night, though a full moon was beginning to rise. By its light, the boy could see the bear clearly, and understood that it was inviting him to follow. After a moment or two of hesitation, he allowed it to lead him deeper into the wood, and before very long he made out the tiny square of a lighted window lying ahead.
Walking boldly now towards the light, he made out a little house made of turf, such as woodcutters and charcoal burners lived in. He turned to thank his furry protector and guide, but to his surprise, the beast had gone. So he went to the door of the little hut, and knocked.
A tiny woman opened the door to his knock. She was little taller than he was, though he could see by her face that she was already quite old. She motioned him to step inside, and by the light of the lamp he could see another little woman, much like the first, toasting her knees by the fire. They both looked him up and down, inquired what he was doing abroad by himself so late, and then asked if he were hungry. Hungry? He was always hungry! But especially so tonight, for he had had no supper at all.
‘Then you must have some, straight away!’ said the first old lady, while the second got up and began to prepare a wholesome supper of bread and cheese, with milk to drink. When he had eaten, the child began again to droop with weariness, aided by the grateful warmth of the fire and the satisfaction, for once, of a well-filled stomach.
‘He’s sleepy,’ said one old lady, nodding towards him.
‘We must put him to bed,’ said the other. They then explained to the sleepy youngster that he was very welcome to bide the rest of the night with them, if he had no objection to sharing their bed, for it was the only bed they had. He would gladly have slept on the hearth mg, or the floor by the door; but he was put down in a soft feather bed between the two little women, one lying each side of him. And as he drifted off to a blissful sleep, the only thing he noticed was that on three out of the four bed-knobs, a dainty white cap was hanging.
When movement roused him from the depth of his slumbers, he noticed through half-closed eyes that the little women had got out of bed, and stood by the foot of it, as if listening. Then a church clock on the edge of the forest began to strike – one, two, three, four … ten, eleven, twelve! At the stroke of midnight, the little ladies each reached for one of the white caps, and taking it from the bedpost, settled it over her silvery hair. Then they looked at each other, and the first one said, ‘Here’s off!’ while the other replied, ‘Here’s after!’ And to his amazement, they both rose up from the ground as if flying, and in a moment were gone from his sight.
By this time the boy was getting used to his unusual adventures, and came to the conclusion that he might as well now see all that was to be seen, if he could. There still remained one little cap hanging on the bedpost. He jumped out of bed, snatched the cap, and fitted it on his hard little head, saying as he did so, ‘Here’s after, as well!’ Next moment his feet had left the ground, and he was floating in the air above the bed. He flew gently out of the hut, and into the moonlight outside, where he came to earth by the side of a fairy ring, inside which his two little friends were dancing merrily, their little feet tripping to music that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, and made his own feet itch to join in. Before he had a chance to try, however, the two old women stopped and faced each other again. Then one said, ‘Here’s off to the big house!’ While the other replied, ‘Here’s after’ – and quick as a wink they floated upwards, and started flying away.
The boy had no wish to be left all alone again in the dark forest; so he quickly said, ‘Here’s after!’ as well, and the next instant found himself settling on top of a tall chimney of the gentleman’s huge house in the park. Then the first fairy – for he now had no doubt whatsoever that that is what they were – said, ‘Here’s off, down chimney!’ and the second, like an echo, said, ‘Here’s after, down chimney.’ So of course, he said, ‘Here’s after, down chimney,’ too – and down they went. First they raided the kitchen, gathering up all the good things to eat that they could find, stowing them away in apron pockets and anywhere else they could carry things. Next they went down to the cellar, where they moved along racks of dusty bottles, choosing one here and another there till they had selected as many as they could carry.
Then one said, ‘I’m thirsty’ and the other replied, ‘So am I.’ So they opened up a bottle of wine, and each took a dainty sip; after which they seemed to remember the boy, and asked him if he were thirsty, too. Whqn he said that he was, they gave him the bottle, and he put it to his lips. Never, never had he tasted anything so delicious! He drank and drank, tipping the bottle up and tilting his head further and further back till the little white cap fell off. Then he dropped the bottle and sank dizzily to the floor, for it was a very old, very strong and very powerful wine he had finished off, and it had made him very drunk indeed. He lay on the floor in a heavy slumber till daylight came, when at last he woke, to find himself cold and alone in the cellar of the rich gentleman’s house.
Trembling with fear, he made his way to the cellar steps, fumbled with the latch, and opened the door. It led him into the kitchen, but it was no longer empty, as it had been in the middle of the night. Instead, it was full of servants, all angry and shouting at each other because all of them were afraid. The loss of the food the fairies had taken had been discovered, and each servant was accusing another of having taken it. Then the cook turned round and saw the boy standing stupidly in the cellar door-way. She screamed, and raised her rolling pin.
‘There’s the thief!’ she screamed. ‘Catch the varmint! Catch him!’ And they all rushed to do her bidding. They had little trouble in capturing him, for his legs were still unsteady and his head still muzzy from drinking too much wine. They shook him and beat him, and questioned him about how he got in, but he could give them no answer. Then the angry cook said to the footmen, ‘Away with him to the master. Let the master punish him!’
So they dragged him off to a great room at the front of the house, where the master, who was a Justice of the Peace, sat smoking; and they told the gentleman how for a long time they had been missing choice food and good wine, but dared not report the loss to him lest he should think they themselves were the culprits. But this morning they had found the real thief – caught him red-handed they had, coming up from the cellar, and here he was.
Now the rich gentleman’s duty was to punish all wrongdoers, and the penalty for stealing was death. It was no surprise to him that the thief was so young, because many of the criminals he punished every day were children no older than this one; and though he was not by nature a cruel man, he thought it only right and proper that he should protect his own and other people’s property. Besides, in this case the hardened and dangerous little criminal had actually been robbing him of some of his best French cognac and claret!
He asked the still-dazed and trembling child who he was, where he came from, and how he had got into the house. When the child replied, ‘Down chimney’, the gentleman boxed his ears for his impudence, and roared, ‘Hang him! I sentence him to death by hanging!’
The village crier cried the details of the execution, which were that a dangerous malefactor was to be hanged on the gibbet on the village green at eleven of the clock in the morning three days hence. When the boy, trembling with terror and crazed with fear, was led out to be hanged, a huge crowd had gathered, as they always did in those days to see the fun. They put the child in a cart, and drove him up to the place where the gibbet stood, with the terrible noose of rope already dangling beneath it. Then the hangman climbed into the cart, and fastened the noose tight round the poor boy’s throat. He was just about to click his tongue, to set the horse moving and to leave the child choking in mid-air, when a hustle and a bustle among the crowd attracted his attention. A little old woman, wearing a white cap, and carrying a similar one in her hand, was pushing her way to the front of the crowd.
‘Hold, hangman, hold!’ she cried. ‘Alas
, poor child, that he should die uncovered! Of your mercy, good hangman, let me place this cap on his head and over his eyes before you drive on the cart!’
The hangman could see no wrong in granting such a request, and helped the small woman to scramble on to the cart, and come to the side of the poor young prisoner.
No sooner had she set the cap on his head, than she cried, ‘Here’s off!’ and like an instant echo, the boy said, ‘Here’s after!’
Then the hangman stood looking at the empty noose, above an empty cart, while the crowd surged forward crossing themselves and murmuring darkly about witchcraft.
But the boy was back in the little turf hut in the forest, safe and sound if a bit shaken by his terrible experience. The two little fairies made much of him, though scolding him severely for what he had done to offend them.
First, they said, if you are befriended by fairies, as he had been, never take advantage, as he had done, by borrowing anything, such as the white cap, without invitation or permission. Secondly, when offered food or drink, never be greedy, for greed is a disgusting sin to fairy and mortal alike, and leads inevitably to drunkenness, poverty and crime as time goes by.
‘But he is young,’ said one to the other.
‘And he won’t do it again,’ replied the second.
‘He knows better now,’ said the first.
‘Let’s take him home,’ said the second.
So they put on their little white caps again, and placed the third on the boy’s head.
‘Here’s off!’ said one.
‘Here’s after,’ said the other.
The Book of English Folk Tales Page 9
