by Terry Jones
‘Exactly so,’ said the Lord Chancellor (whose brother got all the building contracts).
And so King Yorick had yet another palace built. It was opened with great celebrations and fantastic fireworks and a lavish feast that went on for three whole days. Then the new palace stood empty for the rest of the year like all the other palaces.
Now the poor man, whose family the king had seen shivering in the midst of winter, had a son whose name was Tim. And one day, Tim said to his father: ‘Father! I cannot bear to see you so unhappy! I’m going to bring King Yorick to his senses!’
Whereupon Tim’s father exclaimed: ‘But what on earth can you do, Tim? You’re so small.’
‘You’ll see!’ said Tim. And there and then he set off for the king’s palace.
When he reached it, he found the doors shut tight against the freezing winter and the walls too high to climb.
‘What am I going to do?’ thought Tim to himself. ‘I’ll never even get into the palace – let alone bring the king to his senses!’
But he didn’t give up. He sat on a stone outside the palace and waited to see what would happen. And as he sat there, the sky grew dark and the world grew quiet, as if it too were waiting to see what would happen. Then finally it started to snow. And the snow fell on Tim’s head and shoulders. But still he just sat there, watching the king’s palace.
Well, after a while, Tim saw a face at one of the windows. And all the while the snow fell thicker and faster, until it quite covered Tim’s head and his shoulders. Yet still Tim just sat and waited to see what would happen.
Before long, the window opened, and a boy stuck his head out and called to Tim: ‘Aren’t you cold?’
Now Tim was so used to being cold that he scarcely thought about it any more. But, now he came to think about it, he realized he was so cold he couldn’t even speak.
‘You’d better come in and get warm,’ said the boy at the window. But Tim found he could neither speak nor move. He was frozen fast and completely covered in snow like a snowman.
So the boy climbed out of the window, brushed the snow off Tim, and lifted him in through the window. (For, truth to tell, Tim was extremely small and light because he’d never really had enough to eat all his life.)
Well, it didn’t take Tim long to thaw out and explain what he was doing.
‘That’s odd!’ replied the boy. ‘I was wondering what I could do to make my father happier too.’
‘But your father’s the king!’ exclaimed Tim, who had already guessed that the boy was King Yorick’s son. ‘He must have everything he could ever want!’
‘That’s right,’ replied the prince. ‘But he’s miserable from morn till night. I try and cheer him up, but he doesn’t even seem to notice I exist. He just sits and chews forget-me-nuts.’
When Tim heard this, he sat and stared into the fire.
‘How on earth are we going to help our fathers to be happier?’ he said.
No sooner had he spoken these words than a most extraordinary thing happened. The fire began to move, and, as the two boys watched, the red-hot coals turned over and around until they formed themselves into a face that spoke and said: ‘The Key of Memory is the only thing that will bring your fathers happiness. But be warned – it will also bring grief as well.’
‘Where do we find the Key of Memory?’ asked Tim.
‘Go with your consciences… ’ replied the fire.
‘What?’ said the prince.
‘What?’ said Tim.
But the coals in the fire shifted around again, and didn’t say another word.
Then suddenly there was a noise like thunder. Tim and the prince rushed to the window and looked out into the freezing black night. They could see two points of light coming towards them fast.
‘What d’you think they are?’ asked Tim.
‘Perhaps they’re our consciences,’ said the prince.
‘Don’t be daft!’ said Tim.
And the two points of light got nearer and nearer, until suddenly two huge black stallions, breathing fire out of their nostrils, burst out of the night, leapt over the palace wall, and reared up to a halt underneath the window.
Tim looked at the prince, and the prince looked at Tim, and Tim shrugged and said: ‘Well, I don’t know… maybe you’re right… ’
And without another word they leapt onto the backs of those stallions and galloped off into the night.
The next morning, when King Yorick found that his son had vanished, he wrang his hands in despair.
‘What shall I do? My only son has run away… I should have loved him more! I should have been a better father!’
‘Don’t make such a fuss!’ said his Chancellor. ‘Just chew a forget-me-nut, and you’ll soon feel better.’
So the king ate a forget-me-nut, and, after a while, he forgot all about it. But when he went to bed that night, he found the queen crying into her pillow.
‘What on earth’s the matter with you?’ he asked.
The queen looked at him in anger and exclaimed: ‘What! Have you already forgotten that our son has run away?’
‘Oh, don’t make such a fuss,’ said the king. ‘Have a forget-me-nut.’ And he offered the bowl of nuts to the queen, but she seized it from his grasp and threw the entire thing on the fire.
‘Don’t!’ cried the king. ‘Those are worth their weight in gold!’ But it was too late. The nuts burst into flame as soon as they touched the fire, and the smoke went up the chimney.
Meanwhile, Tim and the prince were riding through the frozen Northlands on the backs of their fire-breathing stallions.
By and by, they saw a cloud on the horizon, and the stallions redoubled their speed. And, by and by, they reached the cloud and found it was a pall of smoke, under which their stallions came to a halt. When Tim and the prince looked down, they saw they were on the edge of a sheer cliff that dropped straight down a thousand feet into a lake of fire.
But they didn’t have time to be frightened, for – to their horror – their stallions reared up, pawed the air, and then leapt straight off the cliff and plunged down towards the fiery lake.
The two boys shut their eyes, convinced that their last moment had come, but, as they reached the surface of the burning lake and they felt the fire licking up around their stallions’ bellies, suddenly the flames seemed to separate, and they found themselves plummeting down into a black hole until they disappeared below the surface of the lake of fire.
For a moment, their eyes were filled with smoke, and they couldn’t see a thing, but when they opened them again, they found they had landed in a vast cavern. And there in the centre of the cavern was a great forge, with flames shooting up and feeding the fiery lake above. At the forge worked a huge blacksmith, with iron bands on his arms and fire coming from his nostrils.
The two stallions reared in the air once more, and Tim and the prince fell off onto a pile of straw.
When he saw them, the huge blacksmith stopped his work and laughed. And every time he laughed, the flames shot out from his nostrils and set fire to his beard, so he had to keep running to the water-butt to put it out.
Meanwhile Tim had got to his feet and said: ‘We have come for the Key of Memory.’
‘Have you now?’ roared the blacksmith, and this time he laughed so hard that he set fire to his hood, and he had to plunge his whole head into the water-butt.
‘We’ve been told it is the only thing that will bring our fathers happiness,’ said the prince.
‘And grief!’ roared the blacksmith, and he laughed again so long and loud that he set fire to his jerkin, and he had to jump into the water-butt right up to his neck.
‘Is the Key of Memory here?’ asked Tim.
The blacksmith lay there, half in the water, and roared: ‘I’ve just finished making it! It’s on the anvil.’
The two boys turned and saw a huge key lying on the anvil and glowing red-hot.
‘Take a pair of tongs,’ said the blacksmith, ‘and drop it in t
his water-butt.’
So the prince took a long pair of tongs, lifted up the red-hot key and dropped it into the water-butt, where the giant blacksmith was still sitting. Immediately the blacksmith disappeared in a cloud of steam, and when the steam had cleared away, the blacksmith had gone, and there was an old woman, whose face was red like the coals of the fire. The old woman turned to the prince and said: ‘Prince! In the unhappiest part of your father’s kingdom, you will find a chest filled with your father’s memories. This is the only key that will unlock it.’
Then the old woman seemed to fall into pieces, and sank like glowing embers down into the water-butt.
So Tim and the prince took the key, and looked for their black stallions, but they had disappeared too.
‘Well,’ said Tim. ‘It looks as if we’ve got to walk home.’
The two boys searched until eventually they found the entrance to the cavern, and they were able to climb up and escape. When they reached the world above, however, they found that the lake of fire was just an ordinary lake. And there at the water’s edge were two grey horses – just ordinary horses.
They rode back through the frozen Northlands, but what had taken a few minutes on the marvellous stallions now took days. And what had taken hours now took weeks.
But eventually they arrived back in the land of King Yorick.
‘Where shall we find the unhappiest part of my father’s kingdom?’ asked the prince.
‘I know where that is!’ said Tim, and he led the prince to the place where forty beggars slept under a bridge, but they couldn’t find the chest there.
Then Tim led the prince to a shed, where twenty robbers were hiding for fear of being caught. But they didn’t find the chest there.
Finally Tim led the prince to the place where his own mother and father and brother and sister were huddled around a poor fire, beneath the wall. But when they saw Tim, their faces burst into smiles of happiness, and they didn’t find the chest there.
‘Well, it beats me,’ said Tim. ‘I don’t know where else to look.’
So the prince returned to the palace, and Tim went with him. There they found the king sitting under a nutmeg tree with tears in his eyes.
The prince stood in front of his father, and said: ‘What is the matter? You’re the king! You have seventeen palaces and everything your heart could desire! Why are you unhappy?’
The king looked at his son without recognizing him and said: ‘I forgot to love my son, and he ran away. And now I’ve even forgotten what he looks like!’
At that moment, Tim noticed that the king was sitting on a rusty old iron chest. He handed the key to the prince and the prince tried it in the lock. It fitted exactly.
‘Father,’ said the prince. ‘I’ve come back in hope of bringing you happiness.’
With that, he unlocked the chest, and at once the lid flew open and a million black thoughts flew into the air and blotted out the sun for a moment.
The king gave a roar of grief, as the black cloud suddenly melted into his mind, and he looked into the prince’s eyes and said: ‘My son, I fear this is not happiness you have brought me, for I now remember everyone who has gone hungry – even for a day. I now remember every poor mother who cannot feed her children. I now remember every poor father who cannot clothe his family nor provide a roof to keep the rain and snow from their heads. I now remember everyone whose sufferings I have ignored, and my heart is overcome with grief.’
‘But, Your Majesty!’ cried Tim. ‘Why don’t you give up just one of your seventeen palaces to house the hungry?’
King Yorick looked at Tim and, for the first time in years, he smiled: ‘I’ll do better than that!’ he said.
And then and there King Yorick became the first king to give up living in a palace. Instead he lived in a comfortable house, that was just roomy enough for himself and his family and also for Tim and his mother and father and brother and sister. King Yorick opened up every one of his seventeen palaces so that from that day on there was not one single homeless person in the kingdom.
The Lord Chancellor left in disgust, and went to work with King Fancypants of Swaggerland. And so did the Chancellor’s brother.
Then King Yorick ordered his gardeners to cut down all the orchards of forget-me-nut trees. This they did. And from that day on everyone forgot that there was ever such a thing as a forget-me-nut.
EYES-ALL-OVER
THERE WAS ONCE AN OLD MAN whose name was Eyes-All-Over, because that’s what he had. He had eyes in the back of his head, eyes on the top of his head, eyes on his elbows, and eyes on his knees. He even had one eye on the bottom of each foot.
‘Nobody ever catches me out!’ chuckled old Eyes-All-Over. And it was true, because each of his eyes could see different things.
The eyes in the back of his head could see things that happened yesterday. The eyes on the top of his head could see things that happened a long way away. The eyes on his elbows could see everyone else’s mistakes. The eyes on his knees could see everyone else’s hopes. And the eyes on the soles of his feet could see things that would never happen.
Now the only thing in the whole world that old Eyes-All-Over really cared for was a pot of gold that he kept under the floorboards in his bedroom. Every night he would close all the shutters, draw the curtains, take out his pot of gold and count it – just to make sure it was all there.
And as he counted it, the eyes on the top of his head looked around to make sure no one was peeping in – while the eyes in the back of his head made sure the coins were the same as they were yesterday.
Every week his pot of gold would get larger, because, whenever he went to market, the eyes in his elbows spotted everyone else’s mistakes – so, if someone were selling a pig for a pound that was really worth three, old Eyes-All-Over would snap it up and sell it again as quick as fat in the frying-pan!
And, of course, old Eyes-All-Over never warned anybody they were making a mistake or that they’d lose their money. Oh no! He was far too busy thinking about adding all those golden guineas to his pot of gold.
Well, one day, Eyes-All-Over was sitting at home, counting through his pot of gold as usual, when suddenly there was a knock on the door.
‘Burglars!’ he exclaimed to himself. Then he thought: ‘No… wait a minute… burglars wouldn’t knock on the door. They’d just climb down the chimney.’
So he carefully hid away his pot of gold, and then he opened the door – just a crack.
There on the step stood a thin girl who said: ‘I’m hungry and I have nowhere to live. May I do some work for you to earn a slice of bread and dripping?’
‘Bread and dripping!’ exclaimed old Eyes-All-Over. ‘D’you think I’m made of money?’
‘I could clean your house or chop your wood for you,’ said the girl.
‘Listen!’ said Eyes-All-Over. ‘The eyes in my knees can see what you’re hoping – you’re hoping to be rich one day and live in a nice house like this! Why, you’d probably cut my throat while I’m asleep! Be off with you!’
‘Oh no!’ said the poor girl. ‘I’d never do a thing like that!’
Well, old Eyes-All-Over slyly slipped off a shoe and looked at the girl with one of the eyes in the soles of his feet – the eyes that could see things that would never happen. He saw at once that she would never do anything to harm anyone.
‘Hmm! Very well,’ he said. ‘I do need some firewood chopping.’
So the girl chopped some firewood, and he gave her a piece of bread (without any dripping) and let her sleep that night in the woodshed.
The next day, old Eyes-All-Over woke up to find his house clean and neat and a breakfast of beans and ham waiting for him on the table. For the girl (whose name was May) had been up working hard for several hours already.
So Eyes-All-Over gave her another piece of dry bread and said: ‘You can stay another day.’
Well, May stayed and worked for old Eyes-All-Over for some years. In return he let her sleep in the woodsh
ed and allowed her to eat one piece of bread in the morning and one bowl of soup at night. ‘Eh, eh!’ he used to grin to himself.
‘She costs me nothing and she works as hard as six men. What a bargain!’
One day, however, a stranger was riding past the house, when he caught sight of May digging the cabbage patch. She was still dressed in the same rags she’d been wearing when she first arrived (for it never occurred to old Eyes-All-Over that she might need new clothes) and she was exhausted from all her hard work, but even so May looked so beautiful that the young man fell in love with her on the spot. And, not long after, she fell in love with him.
So the young man went to Eyes-All-Over and told him that he wanted to marry May.
Now old Eyes-All-Over saw at once that he must be a rich young fellow. ‘Eh, eh!’ he thought, ‘I can make a good bargain out of this business!’
But he put on a sad face and said: ‘Oh no! You can’t take young May away from me! She cooks my breakfast every morning!’
‘Very well,’ said the young man, ‘take this.’ And he handed old Eyes-All-Over a ruby ring. ‘With that you can hire the finest cook in the world to make your breakfast every day!’
But old Eyes-All-Over slyly looked at the young man with the eyes in the back of his head – the eyes that could see things that had happened yesterday – and he could see that only yesterday the young man had bought a fine fur coat. So old Eyes-All-Over screwed up his face and looked very sad and said: ‘Oh, young sir, you don’t really mean to take young May away from me? Don’t you know she cuts my wood every day and makes my fire … I’d need a fine fur coat to keep me warm, if you were to take her away from me.’
So the young man went and fetched the fine fur coat, which he had actually bought for his father, and gave it to old Eyes-All-Over.
‘There,’ he said. ‘Now may I marry May?’
But old Eyes-All-Over looked with the eyes on the top of his head – the eyes that could see things that were happening far away – and he could see that the young man’s father, who was waiting for his return, lived in a fine palace, surrounded by fabulous wealth.
