Angela Carter's Book Of Fairy Tales

by Angela Carter

  ‘Your granny is sick; you must go and visit her. Take her one of these cakes and a little pot of butter.’

  Little Red Riding Hood went off to the next village to visit her grandmother. As she walked through the wood, she met a wolf, who wanted to eat her but did not dare to because there were woodcutters working nearby. He asked her where she was going. The poor child did not know how dangerous it is to chatter away to wolves and replied innocently:

  ‘I’m going to visit my grandmother to take her this cake and this little pot of butter from my mother.’

  ‘Does your grandmother live far away?’ asked the wolf.

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Little Red Riding Hood. ‘She lives beyond the mill you can see over there, in the first house you come to in the village.’

  ‘Well, I shall go and visit her, too,’ said the wolf. ‘I will take this road and you shall take that road and let’s see who can get there first.’

  The wolf ran off by the shortest path and Red Riding Hood went off the longest way and she made it still longer because she dawdled along, gathering nuts and chasing butterflies and picking bunches of wayside flowers.

  The wolf soon arrived at Grandmother’s house. He knocked on the door, rat tat tat.

  ‘Who’s there?’

  ‘Your granddaughter, Little Red Riding Hood,’ said the wolf, disguising his voice. ‘I’ve brought you a cake baked on the griddle and a little pot of butter from my mother.’

  Grandmother was lying in bed because she was poorly. She called out:

  ‘Lift up the latch and walk in!’

  The wolf lifted the latch and opened the door. He had not eaten for three days. He threw himself on the good woman and gobbled her up. Then he closed the door behind him and lay down in Grandmother’s bed to wait for Little Red Riding Hood. At last she came knocking on the door, rat tat tat.

  ‘Who’s there?’

  Little Red Riding Hood heard the hoarse voice of the wolf and thought that her grandmother must have caught a cold. She answered:

  ‘It’s your granddaughter, Little Red Riding Hood. I’ve brought you a cake baked on the griddle and a little pot of butter from my mother.’

  The wolf disguised his voice and said:

  ‘Lift up the latch and walk in.’

  Little Red Riding Hood lifted the latch and opened the door.

  When the wolf saw her come in, he hid himself under the bed-clothes and said to her:

  ‘Put the cake and the butter down on the bread-bin and come and lie down with me.’

  Little Red Riding Hood took off her clothes and went to lie down in the bed. She was surprised to see how odd her grandmother looked. She said to her:

  ‘Grandmother, what big arms you have!’

  ‘All the better to hold you with, my dear.’

  ‘Grandmother, what big legs you have!’

  ‘All the better to run with, my dear.’

  ‘Grandmother, what big ears you have!’

  ‘All the better to hear you with, my dear.’

  ‘Grandmother, what big eyes you have!’

  ‘All the better to see you with, my dear!’

  ‘Grandmother, what big teeth you have!’

  ‘All the better to eat you up!’

  At that, the wicked wolf threw himself upon Little Red Riding Hood and gobbled her up too.

  FEET WATER

  (IRISH)

  n every house in the country long ago the people of the house would wash their feet, the same as they do now, and when you had your feet washed you should always throw out the water, because dirty water should never be kept inside in the house during the night. The old people always said that a bad thing might come into the house if the feet water was kept inside and not thrown out, and they always said, too, that when you were throwing the water out you should say ‘Seachain!’ for fear that any poor soul or spirit might be in the way. But that is not here nor there, and I must be getting on with my story.

  There was a widow woman living a long time ago in the east of County Limerick in a lonely sort of a place, and one night when she and her daughter were going to bed, didn’t they forget to throw out the feet water. They weren’t long in bed when the knock came to the door, and the voice outside said: ‘Key, let us in!’

  Well, the widow woman said nothing, and the daughter held her tongue as well.

  ‘Key, let us in,’ came the call again, and, faith! this time the key spoke up: ‘I can’t let you in, and I here tied to the post of the old woman’s bed.’

  ‘Feet water, let us in!’ says the voice, and with that, the tub of feet water split and the water flowed around the kitchen, and the door opened and in came three men with bags of wool and three women with spinning-wheels, and they sat down around the fire, and the men were taking tons of wool out of the bags, and the little women were spinning it into thread, and the men putting the thread back into the bags.

  And this went on for a couple of hours and the widow woman and the girl were nearly out of their minds with the fright. But the girl kept a splink of sense about her, and she remembered that there was a wise woman living not too far away, and down with her from the room to the kitchen, and she catches up a bucket. ‘Ye’ll be having a sup of tea, after all the work,’ says she, as bold as brass, and out the door with her.

  They didn’t help or hinder her.

  Off with her to the wise woman, and out with her story. ‘’Tis a bad case, and ’tis lucky you came to me,’ says the wise woman, ‘for you might travel far before you’d find one that would save you from them. They are not of this world, but I know where they are from. And this is what you must do,’ and she told her what to do.

  Back with the girl and filled her bucket at the well, and back with her to the house. And just as she was coming over the stile, she flung down the bucket with a bang, and shouted out at the top of her voice: ‘There is Sliabh na mBan all on fire!’

  And the minute they heard it, out with the strange men and women running east in the direction of the mountain.

  And in with the girl, and she made short work of throwing out the broken tub and putting the bolt and the bar on the door. And herself and her mother went back to bed for themselves.

  It was not long until they heard the footsteps in the yard once more, and the voice outside calling out: ‘Key, let us in!’ And the key answered back: ‘I can’t let you in. Amn’t I after telling you that I’m tied to the post of the old woman’s bed?’ ‘Feet water, let us in!’ says the voice.

  ‘How can I?’ says the feet water, ‘and I here on the ground under your feet!’

  They had every shout and every yell out of them with the dint of the rage, and they not able to get in to the house. But it was idle for them. They had no power to get in when the feet water was thrown out.

  And I tell you it was a long time again before the widow woman or her daughter forgot to throw out the feet water and tidy the house properly before they went to bed for themselves.

  WIVES CURE BOASTFULNESS

  (WEST AFRICAN: DAHOMEY)

  his happened long ago. When the family head let out his pigeons in the morning, he mixed beans and corn and threw this to them. When the pigeons finished eating, there was a jar of water for them.

  No sooner were they satisfied, than the pigeons began to annoy the girls with their boasting. They kept saying, ‘If I had someone, I would fight him. If I had someone, I would fight him.’ The pigeons always said that.

  The women got together and said, ‘After they eat, our husbands always say, “If I had someone I would fight him. If I had someone I would fight him.” Are they really so strong?’

  The women went to see Aklasu, the vulture, and said to him that their husbands were always looking for a fight. They said, ‘Tomorrow you come, and when they are finished eating, you fight them. But you must not kill them. You can give them a good scare, though.’ They repeated, ‘But you must not kill them.’

  When vulture came, he settled on a tree nearby. The male pigeons knew
nothing about his being there. But the women knew. Now, as usual, the master had them all come out to eat. At sunrise, they had corn and beans thrown to them, and when they finished with that, they drank the water.

  Each began again. ‘If I had someone, I’d fight him. If I had someone I’d fight him.’ When they said this, the vulture threw himself at them, tearing at them, pulling at their feathers.

  Now, the women were at the side and watched.

  The pigeons cried, ‘Let us go. We do not want to fight. We said that only to frighten the women. Let us go.’ Vulture plucked all their feathers and then he flew away.

  Now, the women came to their husbands. The pigeons were all without feathers. The women repeated mockingly, ‘If our husbands saw something, they’d fight. If our husbands had someone, they’d fight him.’

  The battered pigeons pushed their wives away and said, ‘What are you saying? What are you saying?’

  Today Pigeon keeps saying, ‘I don’t want to fight. I am not here for a fight.’

  TONGUE MEAT

  (SWAHILI)

  sultan lived with his wife in his palace, but the wife was unhappy. She grew leaner and more listless every day. In the same town there lived a poor man whose wife was healthy and fat and happy. When the sultan heard about this, he summoned the poor man to his court, and asked him what his secret was. The poor man said: ‘Very simple. I feed her meat of the tongue.’ The sultan at once called the butcher and ordered him to sell all the tongues of all the animals that were slaughtered in town, to him, the sultan, exclusively. The butcher bowed and went. Every day he sent the tongues of all the beasts in his shop to the palace. The sultan had his cook bake and fry, roast and salt these tongues in every known manner, and prepare every tongue dish in the book. This the queen had to eat, three or four times a day – but it did not work. She grew even more thin and poorly. The sultan now ordered the poor man to exchange wives – to which the poor man reluctantly agreed. He took the lean queen home with him and sent his own wife to the palace. Alas, there she grew thinner and thinner, in spite of the good food the sultan offered her. It was clear that she could not thrive in a palace.

  The poor man, after coming home at night, would greet his new (royal) wife, tell her about the things he had seen, especially the funny things, and then told her stories which made her shriek with laughter. Next he would take his banjo and sing her songs, of which he knew a great many. Until late at night he would play with her and amuse her. And lo! the queen grew fat in a few weeks, beautiful to look at, and her skin was shining and taut, like a young girl’s skin. And she was smiling all day, remembering the many funny things her new husband had told her. When the sultan called her back she refused to come. So the sultan came to fetch her, and found her all changed and happy. He asked her what the poor man had done to her, and she told him. Then he understood the meaning of meat of the tongue.

  THE WOODCUTTER’S WEALTHY SISTER

  (SYRIAN)

  here was a man with ten children who lived at the foot of a hill. Every day he climbed to the hilltop and collected firewood to sell in town. At sunset his hungry family would wait, watching for his return, and he would bring them a loaf of bread with perhaps an onion or an olive for flavouring. He was a poor man – but what was worse, he lacked not only gold but brains.

  One day when the dead wood on the hilltop was almost gone, he decided to try another hill farther off which was covered with trees. As he was walking home in the evening, his load on his back, he met a finely dressed woman jingling with gold bangles and rustling with rich stuffs. ‘Don’t you recognize your own sister, O my brother?’ she asked. ‘I wait and wait in vain for you to visit me, but there, not every heart is tender.’ ‘I have no sister,’ said the man. ‘What! Will you deny me altogether now? But tell me, brother, what you are doing here?’ ‘I am heading home after my day’s work,’ sighed the woodcutter. ‘You should give yourself a rest from drudgery and let me care for you,’ said the woman. ‘Why not come and share my good fortune? Bring your children and your wife to live with me in my big house. I have plenty of good things: enough to suit your every mood!’ ‘Is that so?’ replied the man, not knowing what to say. ‘Would I deceive my own brother?’ said the woman. ‘Come with me now and see for yourself; then you will know the way tomorrow.’ And she pulled him by the hand.

  And what a house she had! Sack upon sack of wheat and lentils and dried broad beans! Row upon row of jars filled with olive oil and butterfat! The woman invited the woodcutter to eat and cooked a suckling lamb just for him. ‘Now doesn’t that remind you of our days of long ago?’ she asked him. The poor man pounced on the food like a beggar, because it had been many months since he had tasted meat. ‘I have never seen her before, but who can she be except my sister?’ he wondered. ‘Who else would make me so welcome, who else show me such hospitality? And he hurried back to tell his wife, running so fast that it’s a wonder he didn’t hurt himself.

  But the woodcutter’s wife was not convinced. ‘Wouldn’t I have heard of it if I had a sister-in-law?’ she asked. ‘And if she is not my sister-in-law, for what good purpose does she want us all to live with her?’ She tried to reason with her husband; she tried persuasion; but in the end she had to gather her ten children and, leading their scrawny cow by a rope, follow him to his sister’s house.

  Feast upon feast awaited them. For a month they did nothing but eat and drink and lie in the shade to rest. The children’s faces, which had been thin as knife blades, began to fill out. The woodcutter laughed and said, ‘A curse on all toilsome work! May Allah never bring back those weary times, but let us live forever like this – fresh as the cool of the day.’

  Then one night while the woodcutter’s family slept in the lower room of the house, the sister crept down from her loft and tried the door, muttering,

  All my fat and my flour eaten and gone,

  But now they are plump; I need not wait long.

  For this was a She-Ghoul of the kind that feeds on human flesh. Then the cow who was tethered to the doorpost turned on the monster and said:

  My eyes can burn you like a flame,

  My tail can whip you till you’re lame,

  My horns can tear and gore and maim.

  And the She-Ghoul had to go back the way she had come.

  The next night the monster crept down again, and the cow kept her out as before. But on the third night the cow, moving to fend off the Ghoul, kicked the wooden door with her hoof and woke the woodcutter’s wife. So the woman heard her husband’s sister when she said,

  All my fat and my flour eaten and gone,

  But now they are plump, I need not wait long.

  And she heard the cow’s reply:

  My eyes can burn you like a flame,

  My tail can whip you till you’re lame,

  My horns can tear and gore and maim.

  She shook her husband to wake him, but he was sunk in sleep from too much eating and would not stir.

  In the morning, when the woodcutter’s wife told him all she had heard in the night, he said that it must have been a bad dream. Yet at noon his wealthy sister came to him and said, ‘O my brother, I have a craving for cow’s meat today. Surely you will not begrudge me that bony beast of yours.’ How could a man refuse his sister? So he killed his cow and made his wife cook the meat. She set the tastiest portion on a plate, and sent her eldest daughter to take it to her aunt. When the girl looked into the sister’s room, she saw not her aunt but a demon. Its hair was wild and its eyes blazed red and from the rafters men and women were hanging dead. Without a sound she tiptoed back, but in her hurry she stumbled on the stair and all the food slipped off the dish and on to the floor. Her mother came to scold her, and the girl reported what she had seen. The mother repeated the tale to their father, but still the woodcutter said, ‘That is childish talk. How can you want to kick away such comfort, when you should be thanking God and saying prayers for our blessing?’

  That night there was no cow to stop th
e She-Ghoul from entering. The woodcutter’s wife watched as the demon, feeling each of the children in their beds, repeated to herself:

  All my fat and my flour eaten and gone,

  But now they are plump; I need not wait long.

  ‘Sister-in-law, what do you want?’ called the woodcutter’s wife, who had not closed an eye. ‘I was just covering my nieces and nephews to keep them from the cold,’ said the She-Ghoul, and climbed back up the stairs to her own bed.

  Next day the woodcutter’s wife boiled a ground lentil soup to feed her children and watched them splatter and stain their clothes without a word. Then she went to her sister-in-law and said, ‘I want to go to the stream to wash my children’s clothes. Lend me your copper pot so that I can heat water and bathe the children too.’ And down she went to the wadi and lit a fire and heaped green wood on it to give off smoke. She hung a couple of rags where the wind would catch them and called her children to her. The she prayed, ‘Open for us, O spacious gate of Allah’s protection!’ And holding the hem of her long gown between her teeth and pulling her children along by the hands, she ran and ran away from the She-Ghoul’s home back to her own home at the foot of the hill.

  From time to time the She-Ghoul stepped out of her house to cast a glance down into the valley. She saw the thick smoke rising and the cloth playing in the wind and she said, ‘There she is, still busy at her washing!’ But when the day waned and the sun began to set and still her guests had not returned, she hastened down to see what could delay them. There she found the place abandoned and mother and children gone. She howled so loud that the hill around her rang. And she cried,

  Why did I fatten and fatten them

  When by now I might have eaten them!

  The woodcutter, who was dozing under the grape arbor outside the door, heard her howl. Now he began to be alarmed. He looked around for a place to hide. He could hear the She-Ghoul coming and he knew that her knife was hot and sharpened for him and no one else. In his fright he dived into a rubbish heap and buried himself completely. The She-Ghoul entered the yard like a storm, biting her fingers and snorting when she breathed. Inside and out, from the pigeon houses on the roof to the hen coop under the stairs, she searched for him.