The Thief and the Beanstalk (Further Tales Adventures)

by P. W. Catanese

  Near the pool stood a table. On its top were several cages, filled only with chalky bones draped with ragged pelts. A long bench against the wall was covered with the tools of experimentation: crucibles and scales, and cups and spoons for measuring.

  Hanging on the walls were sketches of inventions, drawn with black chalk on huge sheets of tan parchment. The largest drawing, twenty feet wide, showed how the rope would lower the ogres to the world below.

  In the picture, the cart was parked at the edge of the cloud island and secured by stakes and chains. Gnasher was sitting in the harness and had just been lowered over the edge. Basher was watching Gnasher go.

  Gnasher was a skilled artist, Nick had to admit. With a few simple strokes, he’d captured the ugly essence of Basher. Even the self-portrait was accurate.

  Nick admired Gnasher’s ingenuity until he saw another picture that reminded him of the ogre’s demon nature. On the upper half of that parchment was the design for a weapon. It looked like the scythes that farmers used to harvest grain, with a long crescent blade that would sweep low across the ground. In the bottom half of the parchment, Gnasher had illustrated the weapon in use. A crowd of people was running from Basher. He was using the scythe to cut a bloody swath through the crowd.

  The brutal drawing shook Nick out of his reverie. He quickly found the items he needed. A stub of chalk had fallen to the floor where Gnasher did his sketching. Nick grabbed it, blessing his luck that he did not have to climb onto the table.

  One of Gnasher’s smaller sketches hung close to the floor. Nick jumped and caught the bottom of the parchment. It tore away from the thin nails that held it to the wall and came off in his hands. Nick rolled it up so it would be easier to carry.

  He shoved the chalk and the parchment under the doorway, then slid himself under. With the chalk in one hand and the parchment tucked under the other arm, he ran back down the hall.

  Nick stopped abruptly as he came to the web of the spider-head. Her children, one hundred or more, littered the floor of the hallway, scrambling in every direction, crying in their tiny baby voices. The smallest had heads the size of apples, and some were several times that size. The skin on their hairless heads had a sickly complexion, a mottle of pinks, grays and purple bruises. Not all had eight legs—some had as few as three, and some scrabbled on too many limbs to count easily.

  One of the swarm saw Nick and gave a happy squeal. The little thing seemed delighted to see him, but Nick was thoroughly revolted. As it scuttled close to his feet, he jumped over the outstretched arms. The baby spider-head cried out in frustration, and the rest of the brood turned to see what had happened. When they saw Nick coming, they all began to run toward him on their stilt legs. Staying close to the far wall, Nick raced ahead of the main pack, but at least seven more were between him and the way out. He kept running, darting left and right to avoid them. As disgusting as these creatures were, he didn’t want to step on one of those heads. He could not stomach the thought of a skull cracking under his foot like an egg. The mother screeched at Nick from the web overhead in some shrill language he could not understand.

  The babies were enjoying the chase. They giggled as they tried to catch him. The larger ones could spring to alarming heights, and Nick batted one away with the roll of parchment before it could latch onto his shirt.

  Finally Nick sprinted past the last of the creatures. When they realized that their quarry had gotten away, the whole brood began to bawl. They ran back to the web and crawled up to the mother. She shooed the wailing babies back into the shadowy depths of the silk tunnel.

  Nick continued on to the end of the hallway and saw Basher still snoring in the kitchen. The clever brother had not yet returned. Nick looked through the open front door to see if Gnasher was approaching, but another cloud was passing over the land and everything outside was smothered in fog. He ran across the great hall to the opposite corridor, to the prison room where the giantess waited.

  Nick handed the giantess the rolled parchment. “Here. Rip it in half.”

  The giantess unrolled the paper and looked at Gnasher’s sketch. It was the design for a weapon, a kind of crossbow that could sling a hundred arrows with a single shot. “It looks as if Gnasher has conjured up something special for his coming invasion. Such a waste of the mind he was granted,” she said, shaking her head. She tore the parchment with gusto. “I’m glad to destroy this one. Let us hope he has not built it already.”

  Nick shuddered at the thought of that weapon being used on his countrymen. It looked like it could wipe out half of an army in a matter of seconds.

  “Quick,” he said. “Let me tell you what to write.”

  Chapter 16

  Jack peered again over the crest of the hill at the abandoned farm below. It looked so much like the scrappy hut he shared with his mother long ago; it once sat on the same site where his fortress now sat.

  Henry should have returned by now. Jack was growing anxious, hoping his faithful servant was not in danger.

  Roland, the youngest of Jack’s servants, interrupted the silence. “Master Jack, I want to tell you something.”

  “What, Roland?”

  “Despite everything I’ve seen in the castle—the paintings, the hen, the golden eggs—part of me never really believed your story was true. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I have often wished it wasn’t true,” replied Jack.

  “But I never knew … the reason for your sadness….” Roland stammered, unable to find the words. Jack understood what Roland was trying to say anyway. His servants must have been tempted to ask, but none ever dared. But now all of them were humbled before the mighty beanstalk. It made them feel less like servant and master, and more like brothers, bonded by an extraordinary experience.

  “Roland, you have a young man’s lust for adventure. And you can’t fathom why someone who has lived the greatest adventure of all, who climbed to a hidden world and won a fortune and killed a giant, cannot live happily for the rest of his days.”

  Jack turned his face toward the cloud above.“I’ll tell you why. Her name was Gullinda,” he said. “She found me on her doorstep and took me in. She fed me—kept me hidden from the giant, Ramos. And all she wanted from me was friendship—someone to talk to besides that devil that ruled over her. And talk we did, for hours and hours.

  “She loved me, I think, like a son. And how did I pay her back? By stealing from her house. Three times I went back, and three times I stole. First I took a sack of gold while Ramos slept. The next day I returned—and Gullinda forgave me, so desperate was she for a kind companion! And for the second time I betrayed her, this time stealing the hen.

  “Soon, even though I had an endless source of wealth, greed sent me back once more. This time I crept in without letting her see me. I watched Gullinda from hiding. She was weeping, and I could see that her husband had lost his temper when his precious hen had vanished and she could offer no explanation.”

  Jack was still staring at the vast black underbelly of the cloud. His voice dropped to a whisper, and Roland and Bill edged closer to hear him better.

  “I should have turned around right then. Gone home and cut down that accursed plant. But I saw the harp at the sleeping giant’s feet. And I wanted it. I wanted the thrill of taking it.

  “I was creeping toward the door with the prize when I saw Gullinda staring at me. Her mouth was open, as if she was about to call to her husband. But she couldn’t do it. Three times I had betrayed her, and she still wouldn’t do anything to harm me.

  “I could see the heartbreak on her face. I can see it now. I can see it always, when I close my eyes. And I can hear her whispering: ‘Get out, Jack! Run away!’

  “It was the last time I ever saw her, because Ramos suddenly burst from his chair, where he only pretended to sleep. He’d set a trap for me—and heard Gullinda call me by name.

  “I heard Ramos curse his wife. And then I heard things breaking. And that was all I knew, because I was runn
ing away as fast as I could.”

  Jack turned his face from the cloud and squeezed his eyes shut. He felt like there was a fist around his heart. He gritted his teeth and went on talking.

  “And then he came down the beanstalk for me. And I nearly brought horrible destruction down upon all mankind.” The old man buried his face in his hands.

  Roland and Bill looked at each other helplessly.

  Jack raised his head to meet their eyes. Having revealed this much, he decided to reveal it all. “And this is what I have lived with all these years. Brave as I was to steal the treasure, I was too afraid to go back and see what my thievery had done to the giant’s wife. Did Ramos kill her before chasing me? I was too cowardly to find out—even though I always had the means to do so,” he said, waving toward the beanstalk.

  “I waited and waited. Do it tomorrow, I thought. Next week. Next month. Next year. A few times I even brought those beans out. Even dug the hole! But I was afraid. Weak. And one day, I woke up, and I was old. Just like that.

  “But I had those beans to remind me of my shame, year after year. And then last night, that boy came to my house. That little thief, climbing up to steal my gold …”

  “And you found a way to go back up there without really going back up there,” Roland said.

  Jack nodded. He tried to speak again, but his legs went weak and he began to fall. Roland caught him and put his hand behind the old man’s head, and Jack buried his face in the young man’s chest.

  “Master Jack. Henry’s coming,” said Bill.

  Jack lifted his head to watch Henry approaching along the ridge. When Henry arrived, the old man greeted him with a hug and thumped him on the back. Henry glanced over at Roland and Bill, surprised by Jack’s affection. The two men just shrugged.

  “It’s them, all right. The gang from the forest. But no sign of the boy,” said Henry. “They’ve made themselves at home in the old farmhouse, and they’ve got a little campfire going. They seem nervous, like they’re waiting for something to happen. Rather like us.”

  “What shall we do, Master Jack?” asked Roland.

  “Wait for now. Keep an eye on the beanstalk. And be prepared for anything,” said Jack.

  They waited in hiding, the boy and the giantess. They could not see each other, but her hand was by his side, and Nick sensed her trembling. Neither made a sound for a long while, until Gullinda spoke quietly. “You don’t have to stay for this. If it does not work, he will know someone is here. And he will hunt for you.”

  “But I want to be here. I want to know that you’re safe.”

  “I’m afraid for you, Nick.”

  Me too, Nick thought, for both of us. He patted the enormous hand. “Then let me tell you something to amuse you. Quietly, though, in case Gnasher comes. Remember what you told me, about how you cut the beanstalk away, and made it fall?”

  “I do.”

  “Jack thought he cut it down! When you were cutting the top, he was taking an ax to the bottom!” Despite the danger, he couldn’t help but laugh aloud, and soon the giantess laughed with him.

  After a time, a sobering thought came to Nick. As Gullinda’s laughter faded, he told her. “The giant was killed, you know—Ramos—when the beanstalk fell.” Nick wasn’t sure how the giantess would react to this news. Then he heard her sigh, like a long, low gust of wind.

  “I never meant to kill him, you see. I just did not want him to come back.”

  “I know,” Nick said. And he waited for his words to sink in, for Gullinda to understand what else he’d just revealed.

  There was a rustling sound beside him: Gullinda straightening up where she sat. “Hold on—you said Jack thought he cut the beanstalk down,” she said. “Do you know him? Do you know what happened to the boy?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” replied Nick. “I’ve met him. He’s a very old man now. I don’t think we live as long as you giants.”

  Her voice grew soft. “What is he like now, this Jack?”

  Nick considered the question before replying. “He is the saddest man that ever lived. He thinks about you and this place all the time. Something terrible happened to him when he came up here, and he’s spent his whole life regretting it.”

  “Is that so,” said the giantess. She thought for a while, humming to herself “When you see Jack again, could you tell him something for me?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Nick, although he wasn’t so sure that Jack wanted to see him again.

  “Tell him I have not forgotten, but I have forgiven. Waste not another day on sorrow, not another moment. Live happily, and be at peace.” Nick smiled and said that he would.

  Far away, they heard a loud, echoing crash, like the sound of wood hitting stone. The front door slamming shut, Nick thought.

  “Gnasher has returned,” Gullinda said coldly.

  Chapter 17

  Bnasher stood before the closed door. He had collected one animal from a trap, and slain another with a slingshot. A pair of strange antlers stuck out from the sack he carried over his shoulder.

  He saw a piece of paper on the floor just inside the entrance. His name was written across the top—not the name he called himself, but the accursed name his mother had given him. His lip curled in a spontaneous snarl. Under his name was a message. Gnasher picked it up and read:

  —Mother GALLINOR, I have escaped from your prison. See for yourself.

  Gnasher hurled the bag of game to the floor. He threw his head back and screamed. The shout echoed back and forth across the great hall, like a chorus of monsters.

  Basher woke with a start. He tried to leap from his chair, but it toppled over backward and the ogre crashed to the ground among the discarded bones. He looked up, still groggy, to see Gnasher rushing at him.

  “Lazy, loathsome fool! Mother got out! She escaped while you slept!” Gnasher slapped his brother on the head. Basher lifted his hands to ward off the next blow. Finally he lost his temper and struck back, putting his boulder of a fist into Gnasher’s stomach.

  Gnasher stumbled backward and fell. Basher got up and stood over his brother with his fist raised to strike again. He hissed at Gnasher, with his mouth open and his black tongue quivering.

  Gnasher sat there panting, holding his bruised gut, and glared at Basher. “You would strike back at me? You oaf! Would you like it if I left you behind and went to the world below on my own?”

  Basher lowered his fist. His lip began to tremble. Gnasher stood and smashed the note against his brother’s chest.

  “And after what you’ve allowed to happen, that’s just what I should do!”

  Basher began to bawl.

  “Quit your whining,” Gnasher growled. “Just follow me” Gnasher ran down the hall to the prison room, and his rueful brother followed.

  When Gnasher reached the prison door, he saw that it was still locked. He peered through the little square opening in the door. His mother was nowhere to be seen. He reached to his neck and pulled the chain that held the keys out from his shirt. After fumbling for the right key, he unlocked the door and kicked it in. It swung open wide and hit the wall with a clap of thunder that echoed inside the prison.

  Gnasher put a finger to his lips, signaling for Basher to be silent as he followed. Then he strode into the middle of the room. He saw no holes in the walls, aside from the one that the finished rope was fed through. The gaps in the ceiling were unreachable. And there were no tunnels dug in the floor. The locked door was the only exit.

  “So how did she get out?” Gnasher asked, scratching the scruff on his chin. His nose started to twitch.

  Basher mumbled and pointed at something. Gnasher looked and saw a second note like the one he clutched in his hand. It was attached to the hook at the end of one of the ropes driven by the wind machine, and it bobbed up and down like bait on a fishing line.

  Gnasher ran to it and ripped it off the hook. He read it aloud:

  —Mother GALLINOR, Your great plan is ruined. See for yourself. Farewell forever.
>
  “No! My rope!” Gnasher shrieked and dashed out of the room. Basher followed, whimpering.

  In the prison room, all was still for a moment. Then a voice peeped from the pile of beanstalk plants. “They’re gone. And they left the door open!”

  The plants rustled, and Nick and the giantess emerged from inside the pile where they had buried themselves.

  “Imagine that,” said Gullinda, chuckling. “A little one like you outwitting clever Gnasher!”

  “Go quickly now,” said Nick. “Get away before they find you, or before Gnasher figures out that someone else put the note in the hall for you.”

  “But you must run too, little man.”

  “I will,” said Nick. “After I ruin his plans for real.”

  “Let me help you.”

  “No! You’ve been a prisoner long enough. I don’t want them to catch you again. I’m small enough to get away with it, though. They’ll never know I was there.”

  Nick heard the ogres’ voices outside the castle as they approached the rope.

  “Please, Gullinda,” Nick begged, “they might peek in the hole and see you. Just get away. Run to the other side of that mountain. Don’t be afraid. Maybe it’s a better place to live, with nice folk like you.”

  Gullinda nodded. Then she reached for Nick, moving slowly and gently. Nick raised his arms so she could take him by his sides. She lifted him high and brought him to her shoulder. The giantess hugged him tenderly and patted him on the back with the tips of her fingers. Her coarse hair draped over his face.

  “I only wish my sons had been good boys like you,” she said.

  Gullinda put Nick down carefully and walked to the door. She turned and whispered one last thing. “Remember my message to Jack, if you meet him again.” Then she was gone.

  Nick ran to the hole that led to the rope. He pressed himself against the wall to one side of the gap so he would be out of sight if one of the ogres looked through. He could hear the monsters talking outside.

  “Check it! Check every inch! Make sure she hasn’t cut it anywhere,” Gnasher’s screechy voice ordered his brother.