Angela Carter's Book Of Fairy Tales

by Angela Carter

  Then her husband jumped up to her on the stove and said: ‘Now, my dear, show me the baby. Let me see whether my father and mother wrote me the truth.’ They took the baby, removed its swaddling clothes – and the whole room was illumined! ‘So it is true that she did not tell us just a tale; here is my wife, and here is my son – golden up to the elbows – his sides studded with stars, a bright moon on his forehead, and a radiant sun near his heart!’

  The brother took the best mare from his stable, tied his wife to its tail, and let it run in the open field. The mare dragged her on the ground until she brought back only her braid; the rest was strewn on the field. Then they harnessed three horses and went home to the young husband’s father and mother; they began to live happily and to prosper. I was there and drank mead and wine; it ran down my mustache, but did not go into my mouth.

  PART FIVE

  WITCHES

  THE CHINESE PRINCESS

  (KASHMIRI)

  n the reign of the Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan the Valley of Kashmir was under the rule of a governor named Ali Mardan Khan. He was very fond of hunting. One day he was in search of game in a forest not far from the beautiful Dal Lake when he saw a stag. Leaving his companions behind, he gave chase to it. After some time the stag eluded him and disappeared into some bushes.

  Ali Mardan drew rein, and waited in the hope that it would come out of its hiding place; but there was no sign of it. Tired and disappointed he was returning to his companions when suddenly he heard some one crying. He went in the direction of the sound, and there he found seated under a tree a damsel of surpassing beauty, richly dressed and bejewelled. It was obvious that she did not belong to this country.

  Ali Mardan was dazzled by her beauty. He dismounted and inquired of her as to who she was and why she was crying.

  ‘Oh, Sir,’ she replied ‘I am the daughter of a Chinese King. My father fell in a battle between him and the ruler of a neighbouring province. Many of our noblemen were taken prisoner; but I, somehow, managed to escape. Since then I have been wandering from place to place until I reached here.’

  ‘Fair maiden,’ Ali Mardan replied, consoling her, ‘Now you need wander no more. No harm will come to you, for I am the ruler of this country.’

  The Chinese princess wept on hearing this.

  ‘Oh my lord,’ she said, ‘I weep for my father, I weep for my mother, I weep for my country and I weep for myself. What will become of me, friendless and homeless, how can I live?’

  ‘Weep no more, lovely one,’ the King said compassionately. ‘Stay in my palace where you will be safe and comfortable.’

  ‘That gladly will I do,’ said the girl, still crying, ‘and were you to ask me to become your wife, I should not be able to refuse you.’

  On hearing these words Ali Mardan’s face brightened. He held the girl’s hands.

  ‘Come, my beloved! I will make you my wife,’ he said and he took her to his palace and they were married soon after.

  Ali Mardan and his wife spent some time happily together when one day she approached him saying:

  ‘Build me a palace by the Lake, where from the balcony I could see my reflection in the water.’

  Thereupon Ali Mardan immediately gave orders for the construction of the new palace. Thousands of labourers and masons were engaged to complete the building, and in the shortest possible time a beautiful palace of marble adorned the bank of the Dal Lake. It was enclosed on three sides by gardens full of flowers of the rarest fragrance and beauty, and there beside the lake she lived happily with Ali Mardan whose love for her increased every day.

  But their happiness did not last long. One morning Ali Mardan woke up feeling unwell.

  ‘I have a pain in my stomach,’ he told his Chinese wife.

  He did not worry much about it. But as the pain persisted throughout the day, his wife sent for the royal physician, who examined him and gave him some medicine, but still the pain did not subside. Ali Mardan was confined to his room and the Chinese princess constantly attended to his needs. Many days passed but his malady was no better.

  Now it chanced, that a Yogi was passing by way of the Dal Lake carrying a small jar of water. He was surprised to see the new palace.

  ‘I have never seen a palace here before,’ he said to himself. ‘Who could have built it I wonder.’

  As he felt tired and the day was hot, he went into the garden of the palace, and sat down under a tree. So much at peace did he feel among the flowers beds, and so sweetly did the birds sing around him that soon he was lulled to sleep.

  Now at this very hour Ali Mardan, feeling slightly better, was having a stroll in the garden. He was walking slowly supported by his courtiers.

  Ali Mardan was a man of humble heart and always showed great respect towards holy men irrespective of their belief; so instead of becoming angry with the intruder, he smiled.

  ‘Don’t disturb the sleeping Yogi,’ he said to his attendants. ‘Go bring the best bed you can find, and lay this holy man gently upon it.’ Then seeing the jar of water he added:

  ‘Take great care of this too.’

  Two hours later when the Yogi awoke he was surprised to find himself on such a comfortable bed.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said an attendant who approached, seeing him awake. ‘You are the guest of Ali Mardan, the Governor of Kashmir, who desires to see you.’

  Then noticing that he was searching for something, the attendant added:

  ‘Your jar of water is in safe custody; rest assured.’

  He was then taken to the Governor’s room. He found him lying on his bed.

  ‘Have you rested well, holy man.’ Ali Mardan asked gently. ‘Who are you and from where do you come?’

  ‘Sire,’ replied the Yogi, ‘I am an humble disciple of my Guru who lives at some distance from here in a forest. My master likes to drink the water of a sacred spring and sends me every now and then to fetch it. The last time I passed this way there was no palace here, so I was surprised to find this one today. But I must now take leave of you as I am already delayed and my master will be anxious if I don’t get back before dark.’

  The Yogi then thanked him for his kindness, and was just leaving the bedroom when Ali Mardan was seized by a spasm of pain. On inquiring, the Yogi came to know of the Governor’s mysterious malady. Then he left the palace.

  That evening the Yogi returned to his master, and related to him the events of the day. He particularly mentioned the hospitality shown to him by the Governor. The Guru was very pleased to hear of it. Then the disciple told him of how the Governor was in the grip of a strange illness which no physician had so far been able to cure.

  ‘I am sorry to hear about his illness,’ said the Guru. ‘Take me to him tomorrow, and we will see if we can do anything to help him.’

  Next morning the disciple took his master to the palace and sought an audience with the Governor, who was still confined to his bedroom. The disciple introduced his master to Ali Mardan and also told him the purpose of their visit.

  ‘I am much honoured by your Holy presence, O! Guru,’ said Ali Mardan. ‘And if you can cure me of this disease I shall be grateful to you all my life.’

  ‘Show me your body,’ said the holy man.

  Hardly had he uncovered himself, when the Guru inquired: ‘Have you recently married?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ali Mardan, and briefly told the holy man of his encounter with the Chinese princess and of his marriage with her.

  ‘Just as I had suspected,’ observed the holy man, then in grave tone he said:

  ‘O Governor! you are really very ill, but I can cure you if you do as I tell you.’

  The Governor was alarmed and assured the holy man that he would do as he was bidden.

  That evening Ali Mardan, as instructed by the Guru ordered two kinds of kitcheri to be cooked, one sweet and the other salty, and placed on one dish in such a way that the salty kitcheri was on one side and the sweet on the other. When, as usual, the Governor and his Chinese w
ife sat down to eat, he turned the salty side of the dish towards her. She found her portion too salty but seeing that her husband was eating with relish she made no remark and ate in silence.

  When the time came for them to retire, Ali Mardan, under the instructions of the Guru, had secretly given orders to the attendants that the drinking water should be removed from their bedroom and that the room should be locked from outside.

  As was expected the Chinese princess woke up very thirsty in the middle of the night, and finding no water and no way out she became desperate. She looked at her husband to assure herself that he was fast asleep; then she assumed the shape of a snake, slipped through the window, and went down to the Lake to quench her thirst. After a few minutes she returned by the same way and resuming her human shape, lay down beside her husband again.

  Ali Mardan, who in fact had been feigning sleep, was horrified at what he had seen, and was unable to sleep for the rest of the night. Early next morning he sought the holy man and told him what had happened in the night.

  ‘Oh! Governor,’ said the holy man, ‘as you have seen, your wife is no woman but a Lamia – a snake woman.’ Then he explained to Ali Mardan:

  ‘If for one hundred years the glance of no human being falls on a snake a crest forms on its head, and it becomes the king of the snakes, and if for another hundred years it comes not within sight of a man it changes into a dragon, and if for three hundred years it has not been looked upon by a human being it becomes a Lamia. A Lamia possesses enormous powers and can change its appearance at will. It is very fond of assuming the form of a woman. Such is your wife O! Governor,’ he concluded.

  ‘Horrors!’ exclaimed the Governor. ‘But is there no way of escape from this monster?’

  ‘Yes there is,’ replied the holy man; ‘only we must act cautiously so as not to arouse her suspicions, for if she suspects even remotely that her secret is disclosed she will destroy not only you, but your country as well. Therefore, do precisely what I tell you.’

  Then the Guru told the Governor of his plan which was carried out at once. A house of lac was built at some distance from the palace, which had only a bedroom and kitchen. A big oven with a strong lid was built in the kitchen.

  The royal physician then advised Ali Mardan to confine himself in this house for forty days. During this period no one but his wife should be allowed to see him.

  His wife was only too glad to have Ali Mardan all to herself. A few days passed during which she happily attended to all his needs. One day Ali Mardan told his wife:

  ‘The physician has prescribed a special loaf for me; kindly cook it for me.’

  ‘I dislike ovens,’ she said.

  ‘But my life is in danger,’ said the Governor. ‘If you really love me, do this for me.’

  She had no alternative but to cook the loaf. She went to the kitchen and set to work. Just when she stooped over the mouth of the oven to turn the loaf, Ali Mardan, seizing his opportunity, collected all his strength, pushed her in, and clamped down the lid so that she was unable to escape. He then hurried out and as directed by the holy man, set light to the house which, being made of lac, flared up instantaneously.

  ‘You have done well,’ said the Guru, who just then came up. ‘Now go to your palace and rest there for two days. On the third day come to me and I will show you something.’

  The Governor obeyed. In these two days his health was completely restored. He became as cheerful and strong as he had been on the day he met his fake Chinese princess.

  On the third day, as appointed, Ali Mardan and the Guru went to the place where the house of lac had stood. All that was left of it was a heap of ashes.

  ‘Look carefully in the ashes,’ said the holy man, ‘and you will find a pebble among them.’

  Ali Mardan searched for a few minutes.

  ‘Here it is,’ he said at last.

  ‘Good,’ said the Guru, ‘now which will you have, the pebble or the ashes?’

  ‘The pebble,’ answered the King.

  ‘All right,’ said the holy man. ‘Then I will take the ashes.’

  Whereupon he carefully wrapped the ashes in the hem of his garment and went away with his disciple.

  Ali Mardan soon discovered the virtue of the pebble. It was the philosopher’s stone the touch of which can change all metals into gold. But what the worth of the ashes was, remained a secret, for Ali Mardan never saw the Guru or his disciple again.

  THE CAT - WITCH

  (AFRICAN AMERICAN)

  his happened in slavery times, in North Carolina. I’ve heard my grandmother tell it more than enough.

  My grandmother was cook and house-girl for this family of slave-owners – they must have been Bissits, ’cause she was a Bissit. Well, Old Marster had sheep, and he sheared his sheep and put the wool upstairs. And Old Miss accused the cook of stealing her wool. ‘Every day my wool gets smaller and smaller; somebody’s taking my wool.’ She knowed nobody could get up there handy but the house-girl. So they took her out and tore up her back about the wool, and Old Marster give her a terrible whipping.

  When Grandma went upstairs to clean up, she’d often see a cat laying in the pile of wool. So she thought the cat laying there packed the wool, and made it look small. And she said to herself, she’s going to cut off the cat’s head with a butcher knife, if she catches her again. And sure enough she did. She grabbed the cat by her foot, her front foot, and hacked her foot with the knife, and cut if off. And the cat went running down the stairs, and out.

  So she kilt the foot she cut off, and it turned natural, it turned to a hand. And the hand had a gold ring on the finger, with an initial in the ring. My grandmother carried the hand down to her Mistress, and showed it to her. Grandma could not read nor write, but old Miss could, and she saw the initial on the ring. So it was an outcry; they begin to talk about it, like people do in a neighborhood, and they look around to see who lost her hand. And they found it was this rich white woman, who owned slaves, and was the wife of a young man hadn’t been long married. (Witches don’t stay long in one place; they travel.) Next morning she wouldn’t get up to cook her husband’s breakfast, ’cause she didn’t have but one hand. And when he heard the talk, and saw the hand with his wife’s gold ring, and found her in bed without a hand, he knew she was the cat-witch. And he said he didn’t want her no longer.

  So it was a custom of killing old witches. They took and fastened her to an iron stake, they staked her, and poured tar around her, and set her afire, and burnt her up.

  She had studied witchcraft, and she wanted that wool, and could get places, like the wind, like a hant. She would slip out after her husband was in bed, go through keyholes, if necessary be a rat – they can change – and steal things, and bring them back.

  My grandma told that for the truth.

  THE BABA YAGA

  (RUSSIAN)

  nce upon a time there was an old couple. The husband lost his wife and married again. But he had a daughter by the first marriage, a young girl, and she found no favor in the eyes of her evil stepmother, who used to beat her, and consider how she could get her killed outright. One day the father went away somewhere or other, so the stepmother said to the girl, ‘Go to your aunt, my sister, and ask her for a needle and thread to make you a shift.’

  Now that aunt was a Baba Yaga. Well, this girl was no fool, so she went to a real aunt of hers first, and says she:

  ‘Good morning, Auntie!’

  ‘Good morning, my dear! What have you come for?’

  ‘Mother has sent me to her sister, to ask for a needle and thread to make me a shift.’

  Then her aunt instructed her what to do. ‘There is a birch tree there, niece, which would hit you in the eye – you must tie a ribbon round it; there are doors which would creak and bang – you must pour oil on their hinges; there are dogs which would tear you in pieces – you must throw them these rolls; there is a cat which would scratch your eyes out – you must give it a piece of bacon.’

  S
o the girl went away, and walked and walked, till she came to the place. There stood a hut, and in it sat weaving the Baba Yaga, the Bony-Shanks.

  ‘Good morning, Auntie,’ says the girl.

  ‘Good morning, my dear,’ replies the Baba Yaga.

  ‘Mother has sent me to ask you for a needle and thread to make me a shift.’

  ‘Very well; sit down and weave a little in the meantime.’

  So the girl sat down behind the loom, and the Baba Yaga went outside, and said to her servant-maid:

  ‘Go and heat the bath, and get my niece washed; and mind you look sharp after her, I want to breakfast off her.’

  Well, the girl sat there in such a fright that she was as much dead as alive. Presently she spoke imploringly to the servant-maid, saying:

  ‘Kinswoman dear, do please wet the firewood instead of making it burn; and fetch the water for the bath in a sieve.’ And she made her a present of a handkerchief.

  The Baba Yaga waited awhile; then she came to the window and asked:

  ‘Are you weaving, niece? Are you weaving, my dear?’

  ‘Oh yes, dear Aunt, I’m weaving.’ So the Baba Yaga went away again, and the girl gave the Cat a piece of bacon, and asked:

  ‘Is there no way of escaping from here?’

  ‘Here’s a comb for you and a towel,’ said the Cat; ‘take them, and be off. The Baba Yaga will pursue you, but you must lay your ear on the ground, and when you hear that she is close at hand, first of all throw down the towel. It will become a wide, wide river. And if the Baba Yaga gets across the river, and tries to catch you, then you must lay your ear on the ground again, and when you hear that she is close at hand, throw down the comb. It will become a dense, dense forest; through that she won’t be able to force her way anyhow.’