‘Now, Prince Jack,’ he said, ‘get down from me, the Grey Wolf, climb over the wall, into the garden. It is the garden of the king of the Copper Castle. In the garden stand three cages. In the first cage there is a crow. In the next cage there is a jackdaw. In the golden cage there is the Firebird. Take the Firebird, put her in your neckcloth and come back. But do not, do not, do not ever take the golden cage.’
Prince Jack climbed the wall, passed the first cage, passed the second cage and put the Firebird in his neckcloth. But the golden cage was so beautiful. He picked it up, and there sounded throughout the garden and throughout the kingdom a great clang of bells and a twang of harps, and five hundred watchmen came and took him to the king of the Copper Castle.
‘Why do you steal the Firebird?’ said the king.
‘The Firebird stole my father’s golden apples,’ said Prince Jack. ‘And he is a king.’
‘If you had come to me first, I should have given you the Firebird with honour,’ said the king of the Copper Castle. ‘But you came as a thief. How will it be with you now when I send through all kingdoms that your father’s son brought shame within my borders?’
‘The shame is great,’ said Prince Jack. ‘There is no place of honour left for me.’
‘Then I shall give you one chance, since you have been honest with me,’ said the king. ‘If you will ride across thrice nine lands, beyond the Tenth Kingdom, and get for me the Horse of the Golden Mane, I shall give you back your honour and, with all joy, the Firebird, too.’
c7;The five hundred watchmen took Prince Jack to the bounds of the garden, and threw him out. The Grey Wolf came to him.
‘You did not, and you would not, as I told you,’ said the Grey Wolf. ‘But this is not trouble yet. The trouble is to come. I have only a trotter and a sheep’s cheek, and they must do.’
Prince Jack and the Grey Wolf ate the trotter and the sheep’s cheek. Then Prince Jack sat up on the Grey Wolf, and the Grey Wolf struck the damp earth and ran, higher than the trees, lower than the clouds, and each leap measured a mile; from his feet stones flew, springs sprouted, lakes surged and mixed with yellow sand and forests bent to the ground. Prince Jack shouted a shout, whistled a whistle, snake and adder hissed, nightingales sang and beasts on chains began to roar.
The Grey Wolf stopped at a white-walled stables.
‘Get down from me, the Grey Wolf,’ he said, ‘into the white-walled stables. They are the white-walled stables of the king of the Iron Castle. Take the Horse of the Golden Mane. But do not, do not, do not ever take the gold bridle.’
Prince Jack went into the white-walled stables and took the Horse of the Golden Mane. But the gold bridle was too beautiful to leave. He picked it up, and a thunder sounded through the stables and five hundred grooms came and brought him to the king of the Iron Castle.
‘Why did you steal the Horse of the Golden Mane?’ said the king.
‘Because the Firebird stole my father’s golden apples,’ said Prince Jack. ‘And he is a king. Then I stole the Firebird, but was caught as I am now.’
‘If you had come to me first, I should have given you the Horse of the Golden Mane with honour,’ said the king of the Iron Castle. ‘But you came as a thief. How will it be with you now when I send through all kingdoms that your father’s son brought shame within my borders?’
‘The shame is great,’ said Prince Jack. ‘There is no place of honour left for me.’
‘Then I shall give you one chance, since you have been honest with me,’ said the king. ‘If you will ride across thrice nine lands, beyond the Tenth Kingdom, and get for me the Princess Helen the Fair, whose skin is so clear that you see the marrow flow from bone to bone, I shall give you back your honour and, with all joy, the Horse of the Golden Mane.’
The five hundred grooms took Prince Jack to the door of the white-walled stables and threw him out. The Grey Wolf came to him.
‘You did not, and you would not, as I told you,’ said the Grey Wolf. ‘But this is not trouble yet. The trouble is to come. I have only a trotter and a sheep’s cheek, and they must do.’
Prince Jack and the Grey Wolf ate the trotter and the sheep’s cheek. Then Prince Jack sat up on the Grey Wolf, and the Grey Wolf struck the damp earth and ran, higher than the trees, lower than the clouds, and each leap measured a mile; from his feet stones flew, springs sprouted, lakes surged and mixed with yellow sand and forests bent to the ground. Prince Jack shouted a shout, whistled a whistle, snake and adder hissed, nightingales sang and beasts on chains began to roar.
The Grey Wolf stopped at the golden fence of the garden of Princess Helen the Fair, whose marrow flowed from bone to bone.
‘Get down from me, the Grey Wolf,’ he said. ‘Go back along the road by which we came, and wait for me in the field with a green oak tree.’ So Prince Jack did.
But the Grey Wolf, he stayed.
And, at evening, the Princess Helen the Fair came into the garden, and her marrow flowed from bone to bone. The Grey Wolf jumped into the garden, seized her and ran off. He ran to the field of the green oak, where Prince Jack waited. Princess Helen the Fair dried her eyes fast when she saw Prince Jack.
‘Sit up on me,’ said the Grey Wolf, ‘and hold the princess in your arms.’
Prince Jack sat up on the Grey Wolf, and held Princess Helen the Fair in his arms, and the Grey Wolf ran as only a wolf runs in story, until they came to the white-walled stables of the king of the Iron Castle with the Horse of the Golden Mane. But by now Prince Jack loved Princess Helen the Fair, and she loved him, and the Grey Wolf saw.
‘I have served you in much,’ said the Grey Wolf. ‘I shall serve you in this. I shall be Princess Helen the Fair, and you will take me to the king, and he will give you the Horse of the Golden Mane. Then mount you the horse and ride far. And when you think of me, the Grey Wolf, I shall come to you.’
And the Grey Wolf struck the damp earth, and became a False Princess, and Prince Jack took him into the white-walled stables, while Princess Helen the Fair stayed outside.
When he saw the False Princess, the king of the Iron Castle was pleased, and he gave Prince Jack the Horse of the Golden Mane with joy, and the gold bridle, and gave him back his honour, too. Then Prince Jack rode out of the white-walled stables on the Horse of the Golden Mane and put Princess Helen the Fair before him, and rode away.
The False Princess, the Grey Wolf, stayed one day in the king’s palace. H c7;solf re stayed two days. And he stayed three. Then he asked the king if he might walk in the garden. So the king ordered serving-women to walk with the False Princess. And, as they walked, Prince Jack, far away, riding, called, ‘Grey Wolf! Grey Wolf! I am thinking of you now!’
The False Princess, walking in the garden with the serving-women, sprang up as the Grey Wolf, over the garden wall and ran as only wolves do in story until he came to Prince Jack.
‘Sit up on me, the Grey Wolf,’ he said, ‘and let Princess Helen the Fair ride the Horse of the Golden Mane.’
And so they went on together.
At last, after a long time or a short time, they came to the palace of the king of the Copper Castle who kept the Firebird.
‘Dear friend! Grey Wolf!’ said Prince Jack. ‘You have served me many services. Serve me one more.’
‘I shall serve you once more,’ said the Grey Wolf. And he struck the damp earth and became a False Horse, and Prince Jack mounted him and rode into the palace.
When the king of the Copper Castle saw the False Horse, he was pleased, and he gave Prince Jack the Firebird in its golden cage, and gave him back his honour, too.
Prince Jack left the palace and went to where Princess Helen the Fair was waiting with the Horse of the Golden Mane, and they rode towards the palace of Prince Jack’s father, the king of the Stone Castle. They came into a dark forest.
And Prince Jack remembered, and called, ‘Grey Wolf! Grey Wolf! I am thinking of you now!’ And straight away the Grey Wolf appeared. But he said, ‘Well, Prince Jack, here is where
we met. I, the Grey Wolf, have paid for your horse. I am no more your servant.’ And he jumped into a thicket and was gone.
Prince Jack wept, and rode the Horse of the Golden Mane, with the gold bridle, Princess Helen the Fair before him, and in her arms the Firebird and its golden cage.
They rode one day. They rode two days. They rode three days. But whether the way was long or short, they grew tired, and when they came to the graven stone in the green meadow, they rested against it, and slept.
And as they slept, the two older brothers came back from their empty wanderings, and when they saw Prince Jack with the Firebird in its golden cage, and the Horse of the Golden Mane and its gold bridle, and Princess Helen the Fair, whose marrow flowed from bone to bone, they cut Prince Jack into four pieces, and threw the four pieces to the four winds, and took the Firebird and the Horse of the Golden Mane and Princess Helen the Fair with them back to their father’s palace.
The king of the Stone Castle was glad to see his sons and to hold the Firebird in its golden cage. And the two brothers drew lots, and the first won Princess Helen the Fair, and the second took the Horse of the Golden Mane, and a wedding was ordered.
But Prince Jack lay dead, by lanes and ways and woods and swamps, out on the green meadow, cut into four parts.
He lay one day. He lay two days. He lay three days. And, in the forest, the Grey Wolf smelled the flesh, and knew that it was the flesh of Prince Jack. He went to where the pieces lay. And there came a crow with brazen beak and brazen claws, with her two children, to feed on the flesh. But the Grey Wolf jumped and seized one of her children.
‘Grey Wolf, wolf’s son,’ said the crow, ‘do not eat my child. Do not tear off its rash little head. Do not take it from the bright world.’
‘Black Crow, crow’s daughter,’ said the Grey Wolf, ‘serve me a service, and I shall not hurt your child. Fly for me over the Glass Mountains to the Well of the Water of Death and the Well of the Water of Life. Bring me back those waters, and I, Grey Wolf, shall loose your child. But, if not, I shall tear off its rash little head. I shall take it from the bright world.’
‘I shall do you this service,’ said the crow. And she flew beyond the end of the earth, over the Glass Mountains, and she came back with the Water of Death and the Water of Life.
The Grey Wolf tore the crow’s child to bits. He sprinkled over it the Water of Death, and the bits grew together. He sprinkled over it the Water of Life, and the crow’s child awoke, shook itself, and flew away.
The Grey Wolf sprinkled the pieces of the body of Prince Jack with the Water of Death. And the pieces were joined. He sprinkled the Water of Life. And Prince Jack stretched himself, yawned, and said, ‘How long have I been asleep?’
‘Yes, Prince Jack, and you would have slept for ever, had it not been for me, the Grey Wolf. Long hair, short wit. Sit up on me, for your oldest brother is to wed Princess Helen the Fair this very day.’
Prince Jack sat up on the Grey Wolf, and the Grey Wolf struck the damp earth and ran, higher than the trees, lower than the clouds, and each leap measured a mile; from his feet stones flew, springs sprouted, lakes surged and mixed with yellow sand and forests bent to the ground. Prince Jack shouted a shout, whistled a whistle, snake and adder hissed, nightingales sang, beasts on chains began to roar, all the way to the palace of the king of the Stone Castle.
Prince Jack got down from the Grey Wolf in the middle of the wedding, and when she saw him alive, Princess He c, P> togetlen the Fair ran to him, and they told the king all that had happened.
The anger of the king was a river in storm, and he called a halt to the wedding, made his oldest son a scullion, his second son a cowherd and fed them all their days on cockroach milk. But Prince Jack and Princess Helen the Fair were married that same night. And on all sides those that weep were weeping, those that shout were shouting and those that sing were singing.
Prince Jack said, ‘Grey Wolf! Grey Wolf! How can I repay you? Stay with me for ever. You shall never want. Go now for ever through my ground. No arrow will be let at you. No trap will be set for you. Take any beast to take with you. Go now through my ground for ever.’
‘Keep your herds and your flocks to yourself,’ said the Grey Wolf. ‘There is many a one who had trotters and sheep as well as you. I, the Grey Wolf, shall get flesh without putting trouble here. The tale is spent. Live long, Prince Jack. Live happy. But me you shall see never more.’ And the Grey Wolf struck the damp earth and was gone.
Prince Jack and Princess Helen the Fair lived in friendship and they lived in peace, they lived happily and they lived long; and if they are not dead yet, they are living still, and they feed the hens with stars.
But the Grey Wolf they did not see; though you may. And, if you do, what then?
The Snow Queen
Retold by Berlie Doherty
Illustrated by Siân Bailey
LONG AGO IN the cold north there were some wicked imps. Just for something to do they made a mirror. It wasn’t like any other mirror. It made roses look like cabbages and birds look like flying toads. It took the beauty out of everything, and if the object had an ugly heart, the mirror found it and reflected it. The imps had great fun with that mirror.
They dared each other to show it to the most beautiful creature on the earth, the Snow Queen. ‘Go on, you do it,’ they cackled to each other. ‘Let’s see how deep her famous beauty really is.’
Well, the Snow Queen loved mirrors. She tossed back her long white hair and smiled, but all she saw in her reflection was her black and evil heart.
‘How dare you show me this!’ she screamed.
She was so angr fce="sery that she struck her fist into the mirror and broke it into a thousand pieces, which shattered into the night sky and looked, for a moment, like stars. But then the sparkles of dust floated through the air and some of them landed in people’s hearts just as if they were splinters of glass, and turned them to ice. The wicked imps screeched with laughter.
‘Look, look what our mirror’s done! There’ll be some precious mischief now! It’s better than ever!’ And they scurried into their slimy holes and waited to see what would happen next.
Well, it happened to a boy and girl called Kay and Gerda. They lived in the top rooms of very tall houses that faced each other, in the town of Amsterdam. They didn’t have gardens, but they each had window-boxes where they grew their flowers. There was a bridge from Kay’s window to Gerda’s, so they could walk across to each other’s rooms high above the streets. And on the bridge there grew a rose tree that belonged to them both. In summer they used to watch the flowers opening out.
‘We count the petals on our tree
A rose for you, a rose for me.’
That was their song.
And in the winter, when it was too cold to play out and the frost made feathery patterns on the windows, Gerda would warm a coin and hold it against the glass to melt the ice. Then she would look through the spy-hole and see Kay looking at her from his window. He would run down his stairs and climb up to Gerda’s room, and together they would listen to the tales her grandmother told, all about the animals she used to talk to. The snow would be flurrying against the window like a flock of white butterflies, and one day Grandmother told them to watch out for the Snow Queen, who had a wicked heart.
‘If she ever came in here I’d put her on the stove and melt her!’ Kay said.
That night in bed, Kay saw the Snow Queen. He opened his eyes and there she was, all in a shimmer of silvery light, peering at him through his frosty window and laughing down at him – but when he reached out to the glass she disappeared, as if the touch of his warm hand had melted her away. Or maybe he had only dreamed he saw her. That could be it.
But he should not have forgotten about her. Summer came again. Grandmother brought them both presents from the market – a pair of red shoes for Gerda, and a pair of boots for Kay. They wore them at once, even though Kay’s were a bit big for him and creaked when he walked. ‘I like them like
this,’ he said.
‘You sound like a squeaky mouse!’ laughed Gerda. ‘And aren’t my shoes beautiful! They’re my treasure!’
They walked backwards and forwards across their flower bridge, and suddenly a wild wind whipped around them, glittering with silver dust. They clung to each other. Some of the dust went in Kay’s eye and drifted down to his heart. It stabbed him there as if it were a blade of ice, and he gasped out loud with pain. He thought he was going to die.
‘Kay! What’s the matter?’ Gerda asked, but he pushed her away roughly.
‘Leave me alone. I hate you,’ he said.
She stared at him, not understanding what had come over him.
‘Go away!’ he shouted.
Gerda didn’t know that he had splinters of glass in his heart, and that it had already turned to ice. How could she know? ‘Can’t I help you?’
‘Go away. I can’t bear to look at you,’ he said. ‘You’re so ugly.’
He tore down the rose tree that they loved so much. ‘Pooh, it stinks!’ he said, and threw it over the bridge into the street below, where the carriages trundled across it and mashed it into the ground. And then he ran into his house, shouting to her that he never wanted to play her silly games again. ‘And I hate these stupid squeaky boots!’
‘I don’t know what’s happened to Kay,’ Gerda sobbed, and the grandmother put her arms round her and comforted her. She thought in her heart that she knew what had happened, but she said nothing. What could be done?
Magic Beans: A Handful of Fairytales From the Storybag Page 10
