Faery Tales Read online

  For Ella, Matthew, Morgan and Nina – beautiful children

  With love and thanks to Melly Still and Tim Supple

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Blue Beard

  The Husband Who Was to Mind the House for the Day

  The Three Wishes

  Beauty and the Beast

  The Emperor’s New Clothes

  Toby and the Wolf

  The Juniper Tree

  The Girl and the North Wind

  Rats and the Chinese Zodiac

  The Pied Piper of Hamelin

  The Stolen Childhood

  A Little Girl

  The Maiden with No Hands

  Tattercoats

  Invisible

  Nine Words

  Wooden Maria

  The Squire’s Bride

  The Lost Happy Endings

  Hansel and Gretel

  The Golden Goose

  Ashputtel

  A Riddling Tale

  The Mouse, the Bird and the Sausage

  Iron Hans

  The Lady and the Lion

  The Magic Table, the Gold-Donkey and the Cudgel in the Sack

  Little Red-Cap

  Two Households

  The Fox and the Geese

  Clever Hans

  Knoist and His Three Sons

  Sweet Porridge

  The Hare and the Hedgehog

  Travelling

  Snow White

  The Ungrateful Son

  The Wise Servant

  The Musicians of Bremen

  The Golden Key

  Rumpelstiltskin

  Fair Katrinelje

  Brother Scamp

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Blue Beard

  Once upon a time, there lived a man who owned many splendid properties in the town and in the country, who possessed an abundance of silver and gold plate, handcrafted furniture, the finest porcelain and glass, and coaches studded all over with sapphires. But he was the owner of something else as well – a blue beard which made him so appallingly ugly that women and girls took one look at him and fled.

  He had a neighbour, a society lady, who had two fine sons and two daughters who were flowers of beauty. He asked her for one of the girls’ hand in marriage and told her she could choose herself which one of them she would give to him as bride. Neither of the girls would have him, though, and they sent him backwards and forwards, up, down and sideways from one to the other, both adamant they would not marry a man with a blue beard. But there was one thing which repelled them even more and filled them with fear and revulsion. He had already been married to several wives and no one living knew what had happened to them.

  Blue Beard, to try and win the girls over, escorted them with my lady, their mama, and three or four other mademoiselles of quality, and some fine young people of the district, to one of his country estates, where they were entertained for eight sumptuous days. So now it was all parties and candles and music and masks; it was hunting and shooting and fishing; it was dancing and feasting and the finest champagne and armagnac. It was merci, monsieur and enchanté, and oooh la la! In fact, everything went so splendidly, that the youngest daughter started to think that the lord of the manor’s beard wasn’t actually bleu, mais non, not really, and that he was a most civilised gentleman.

  No sooner were they home than the marriage was held. A month after that, Blue Beard told his wife that he had to travel to a distant country for at least six weeks, on a matter of extreme importance. He encouraged her to amuse herself while he was away. She was to send for her friends and family, go to the countryside if she wished, and generally have a good time wherever she went. ‘Here,’ he said, ‘are the keys to the two Great Rooms that contain my best and most costly furniture; these grant access to my silver and gold plate, which is to be used sparingly; these open my strong chests, which hold all my money; these my casket of jewels; and this here is the master key that opens all my apartments. But this little one here is the key to the closet at the far end of the great gallery. Open everything and go anywhere, but do not unlock the little closet. I forbid you this – and I want you to know that I forbid you this as night forbids day. If you disobey, there will be no hiding place here from my anger.’ She promised to do everything just as he said and so he squeezed her to him, sandpapering her soft cheek with his blue beard, then climbed into his coach and began his journey.

  Her friends and family didn’t wait to be invited – they were so impatient to see all the splendour of the newlyweds’ house. Only her brothers didn’t come because their military duties delayed them. But all the others rushed straight to the two great rooms, flinging wide all the closets and wardrobes to gape and coo at the finery, which got more splendid with every door they opened. They could not say enough about their envy and delight at their friend’s good fortune. She, however, paid not the slightest attention to all the treasures, because she was burning up with curiosity about the little closet. She became so consumed by this, that without even thinking how rude it was to abandon her guests, she rushed down the back stairs so recklessly that she could have broken her slender neck three times over.

  When she reached the closet door, she hesitated for quite a while, remembering her husband’s warnings, and worrying about the consequences if she disobeyed him. But temptation was far too strong for her and she could not resist it. She picked out the little key and opened the door, shaking all over. At first, she could make out nothing clearly at all, because the shutters were all closed. But after a few moments she saw that the floor was spattered with lumps of congealed blood, and upon it lay the bodies of several dead women, each sprawled there, or hanging in her wedding gown. These were the brides that Blue Beard had married and had slaughtered one after another. She nearly died of terror and as she jerked the key from the lock it fell from her hand. She tried to calm herself, picked up the key, locked the door, and hurried up the stairs to her chamber to try to recover. But she was too frightened. Then she noticed that the key to the closet was stained with blood, so she tried three times to scrub it off, but the blood would not come off even though she scoured it with soap and sand. The key was magic, and when she rubbed the blood from one side it would appear again on the other. That evening, when her guests said their au revoirs, she begged her sister to remain.

  Unexpectedly, Blue Beard interrupted his journey and came home, saying that he had received a message on the road that the important business he was on his way to deal with was completed to his satisfaction. His wife did everything to act as though she was delighted by his sudden return. The next morning he asked her for the keys, but her hand shook so violently as she gave them to him that he guessed at once what had happened. ‘Why is it,’ he said, ‘that the key to the closet is missing?’ ‘Oh! I must have left it upstairs on the table,’ she said. ‘Make sure,’ said Blue Beard, ‘that you fetch it to me quickly,’ and after going backwards and forwards several times, she was forced to bring him the key. Blue Beard turned the key over and over, looking at it very carefully, then said to his wife, ‘How did this blood get on the key?’ ‘I don’t know,’ answered the poor girl, white as a dead bride. ‘You don’t know,’ said Blue Beard, ‘you don’t know, but I know. You were determined to go into the closet, weren’t you? Very well, madame, you shall go in and take your place among the sisterhood you found there.’

  At this, she flung herself at her husband’s feet and pleaded pitifully for his forgiveness, swearing that she was sorry and would never disobey him again. Even a stone would have been moved by her beauty and grief, but Blue Beard’s heart was harder than any stone. ‘You must die, chérie,’ he said, ‘and soon.’ ‘If I have to d
ie,’ she said through her tears, ‘then allow me a little time to dress in my bridal shroud.’ ‘You can have a quarter of an hour,’ said Blue Beard, ‘but not a second longer.’

  As soon as she was alone, she called to her sister and said, ‘Sister, I need you to climb up to the top of the tower and see if my brothers are coming. They promised me they would come here today, so if you see them then give them a signal to hurry.’ Her sister went up to the top of the tower, and the terrified woman cried out, ‘Sister, Sister, do you see anything coming?’ And her sister replied, ‘I see nothing but the sun making dust and the grass growing green.’ Meanwhile, Blue Beard was sharpening and sharpening a huge knife, and chanting horribly:

  Sharper, sharper, shiny knife,

  Cut the throat of whiny wife!

  Then he shouted out, ‘Come down at once or I’ll come up to you!’ ‘Just one moment longer, please,’ said his wife, ‘first I have to fasten my bodice and pull on my silken stockings;’ and then she called up very softly, ‘Sister, Sister, do you see anything coming?’ And her sister said, ‘I see nothing but the sun and the dust and the grass.’ Blue Beard was sharpening and chanting even more ferociously:

  Sharper, sharper, knife so dear,

  Slit her throat from ear to ear!

  ‘Get down here now!’ he bawled, ‘or I’ll come up to you.’ ‘I’m coming,’ said his wife, ‘I just have to tie my garter and slip on my shoes,’ and then she cried out, ‘Sister, Sister, do you see anything coming?’ ‘I see,’ answered her sister, ‘a great dust rolling in on this side here.’ ‘Is it my brothers?’ ‘Oh no, my dear sister! It’s just a flock of sheep.’ Blue Beard sharpened and chanted even more vigorously:

  Now the knife is sharp enough,

  And ready for the bloody stuff!

  ‘Come down here now!’ he bellowed, ‘or I’ll be up for you!’ ‘One last moment,’ said his wife, ‘I have only my veil to secure and my white kid gloves.’ Then she cried, ‘Sister, Sister, do you see anything coming?’ ‘I can see,’ she said, ‘two horsemen coming, but they are still a long way off. Thanks be to God,’ she cried at once, ‘it is our brothers! I have made them a sign to gallop.’ Blue Beard roared out now so loudly that the whole house shook.

  The poor woman came down and collapsed at his feet, with her face jewelled with tears and her hair loose about her shoulders. ‘This won’t help,’ said Blue Beard, ‘you must die;’ then, grasping her hair with one hand and raising the cutlass with the other, he was about to cut off her head. His wife writhed around and, looking at him with dying eyes, begged him for one last moment to calm herself. ‘No, no, no,’ he said, ‘give yourself over to God!’ At this precise moment there came such a thunderous knocking at the gates that Blue Beard froze. The gates were opened and immediately the two horsemen entered. They saw Blue Beard, drew their swords and rushed straight at him. Blue Beard recognised that they were the brothers of his wife – one a dragoon and the other a musketeer – so he ran for his life. But the brothers were too fast for him and caught him before he even reached the steps to the porch. Then they skewered their swords through his body and left him there dead.

  Their poor sister was scarcely more alive than her husband and was too weak to stand and embrace her brothers. Blue Beard had no heirs and so his wife became owner of all his estate. With one part, she gave a dowry to her sister, to marry a young gentleman who had loved her truly for a long time; another part she spent to buy captains’ commissions for her brothers, and she used the rest to marry herself to a very kind, clean-shaven gentleman, who soon made her forget the dark time she had spent with Blue Beard.

  The Husband Who Was to Mind the House for the Day

  A man once stomped about northern parts who was so grumpy and surly that he thought his wife could do nowt right in the house. So one evening, during harvest time, he came cursing, blowing and fuming home, showing his teeth and kicking up a right dust.

  ‘My love, you mustn’t be so angry,’ said his goody. ‘Tomorrow why don’t we swap our work? I’ll go out with the mowers and mow, and you can keep house at home.’

  Aye, the husband thought, that would do nicely. He was agreeable to that, he said.

  So, first thing next morning, his goody put the scythe over her neck and walked out into the hayfield with the mowers and set off mowing. And the man was to stop at home, mind the house, and do the housework.

  His first task was to churn the butter, but when he had churned for a bit, he worked up a thirst, and went down to the cellar to tap a barrel of ale. But just when he had knocked in the bung and was fitting the tap to the cask, above his head he heard the pig lumber into the kitchen. So off he legged it up the cellar steps, the tap in his fist, as fast as he could, to sort out the pig before it knocked over the churn. But the pig had already knocked over the churn, and stood there, snuffling and rooting in the cream, which was pouring all over the floor. The husband became so mad with rage that he forgot about the ale barrel and charged at the pig as hard as he could. He caught it as well, just as it squealed through the door, and landed it such a kick that poor piggy lay for dead on the ground. Then he remembered he had the tap in his hand; but when he ran down to the cellar, every last drop of ale had dripped out of the cask.

  So he went into the dairy and found enough leftover cream to fill the churn again, and he started up churning once more, for there’d better be butter at dinner. After he’d churned for a while, he remembered that their milking cow was still locked up in the cowshed and hadn’t been fed or watered all morning, even though the sun was riding high in the sky. But then he thought it was too far to lead her down to the meadow, so he’d just put her up on the top of the house. The house, you should realise, had a roof which was thatched with sods and a thick crop of grass had sprouted up there. The house was built close to a steep slope and he reckoned that if he laid a plank across to the thatch at the back, he’d get the cow up no problem.

  But he still couldn’t leave the churn because there was his baby crawling around on the floor and, ‘If I leave it,’ he thought, ‘the child is sure to knock it over.’ So he heaved the churn onto his back and went off out; but then he thought he’d best water the cow before he put her up on the thatch; so he picked up a bucket to draw water from the well but, as he bent over the mouth of the well, all the cream poured out of the churn over his shoulders and vanished into the well. Then he gave the cow some water and put her up on the thatch.

  It was getting near dinnertime and he hadn’t even sorted the butter yet, so he decided he’d better boil up the porridge, so he filled the pot with water and hung it over the fire. When he’d done that, he worried that the cow might fall off the roof and break her neck or her legs, so he climbed onto the roof to tie her up. He tied one end of the rope round the cow’s neck and made it safe, and the other end he slid down the chimney and tied it round his own thigh. And he had to get a move on, because the water was bubbling in the pot and he hadn’t even begun grinding the oatmeal yet.

  So he started to grind away; but while he was going at it hammer and tongs, the cow fell off the top of the house anyway, and as she fell, she dragged the man up the chimney by his leg. He was stuck there like a cork in a bottle and the cow hung halfway down the wall, dangling between heaven and earth, unable to get either up or down.

  Meanwhile, the goody had been waiting seven lengths and seven widths of the field for her husband to call her to dinner, but no call came. Finally, she reckoned she’d worked and waited long enough, so she went home. The moment she got there she saw the tragic sight of the cow swinging on the wall, so she ran up and cut the rope in two with her scythe. As soon as she did this, her husband came crashing down out of the chimney, and so, when his missus came into the kitchen, there she found her baby cradling the half-dead pig and her husband standing on his brainbox in the porridge pot. This is what happened the day the husband was to mind the house.

  No surprise there then, eh?

  The Three Wishes

  It was
a very long time ago, and it was once, that a poor woodman dwelled in a great English forest. Every day that he lived, out he went to fell timber. One fine day, off he went and the wood-wife packed his pouch and looped his bottle over his shoulder and under his oxter, and that was his meat and drink for the forest. He had his eye on a huge old oak, reckoning it would yield strong planks aplenty. When he stood beneath it, out came his axe and around his bonce it swung as though he was trying to deck the oak with a stroke. But he hadn’t landed so much as a blow when his ears heard pitiful plaintive pleas and he clapped eyes on a fairy, who begged and beseeched him to spare the tree. He was stunned – you can imagine – with fascination and fear, and he couldn’t force one word through his lips. At last he found his tongue. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I’ll do as thou wants.’

  ‘You have done yourself a greater favour than you know,’ replied the fairy, ‘and I propose to show my gratitude by granting you your next three wishes, whatever they may be.’ At that, the fairy was nowhere to be seen and the woodman hung his pouch over his shoulder and slung his bottle at his side and loped for home.

  Well, the way was a long one and the poor man was flummoxed and flabbergasted by the magical thing that had happened to him, and when he got home there was nowt in his noddle but a strong desire to sit in his chair and rest. Perhaps this was the work of the fairy? Your guess. Anyroad, he plonked himself down next to the toasty fire and as he sat he grew hungry, even though it was a long time till supper.

  ‘Has thou owt for supper, wife?’ he called to the wood-wife.

  ‘Nowt for a couple of hours yet,’ she said.

  ‘Aah!’ groaned the woodman. ‘I wish I had a long strong link of black pudding in front of my face!’