Once Upon a Time: The Villains (11 page)

After four weeks I thought he would surely be as fat as a little porker. Alas, when I told him to stick out a finger, I felt more bone than flesh.

Was he an anomaly such as me when I was a child? Poor Evie had fretted terribly over my leanness.

Evie had fretted over my leanness? Oh! Evie had been fattening me up. Then I remembered the conversation I had heard between her and Korb.

“A deal’s a deal,” Korb said. “She be mine.”

“Look for yourself,” Evie had said. “I feed her day and night and she’s as thin as a new-grown twig. She will not do.”

He had left in a snit and that was the last time I saw him.

“Evie.” Had my whole life been a mistake? Evie had tried to use the spell, but failed, and in the end had enslaved me.

“I won’t make the same mistake. I get what I want, and be damned the cost.” I turned to Grethel and said in a high fit, “Fetch me water to boil, for whether your brother is fat or lean, today I will kill and cook him.”

The time had come to get my youth and beauty back.

Grethel stood and sobbed. I had to force her along before she’d do as I said. As she drew the water, she prayed, “Oh good God, help us now!”

I laughed. “Off with that noise, now. Prayers are useless.”

Instead of growing quiet, she assailed my ears from the well to the kitchen with her sobs. I became so angry that I decided to eat her as well. No use keeping her if she would only cause me to lose my hearing. If I couldn’t have one plump child, surely two skinny ones would do the trick. I stoked the oven till it burned bright.

“Hear, now, Grethel. Bake the bread,” I demanded, intending to shove her in the fire as soon as she came close enough to the oven door.

She came close enough for me to see her big brown eyes staring up at me. I hesitated. This is where Evie had failed. She took pity on the innocent. I would not.

I was gaining something very dear. Eternal youth. Never to grow old again.

I hardened my heart and gritted my teeth. Her eyes grew bigger as I reached for her arm. The little minx had grown strong with her labors and bold with fright. She grabbed my arm and pushed me instead. I tumbled into the oven and she bolted the door.

As the fire licked at my flesh, Korb suddenly appeared within the flames.

“You have taken an innocent life,” he accused.

“Nay,” I cried and pointed to the children running from my house hand in hand. “They are alive. See?”

“What of Evie?”

The flames licked faster, hotter. My skin melted from my bones. As Korb pulled my soul into hell, I saw Evie, her bright and good spirit, guiding the children back toward the village and their home.

Giant’s Way

A Tale of Foolhardiness

Giant; that’s me name. Nobody ever thought to give me no proper one. I was different from the first day I was born. Beefy, bald and long. Me wee fingers were as big as sausages, me shiny pate as large as a prize melon. Me poor ma took one look at me and expired on the spot. Me da, a puny, little man, keeled over and hit his head. He weren’t never quite right after that, I been told.

Never been rocked as a babe; too big to even fit on me da’s knee. The cradle he made splintered in two the second month after me birth. Nearly took out the dog’s eye wit one of its sanded planks. Poor poochie. He weren’t never right after that, either.

Me da did his best to care fer me, but I was a handful in more ways than one. I soiled every scrap of linen in the cupboard, ate a week’s worth of gruel in one day, and every time I cried, I blew out the fire. Me poor ole da shivered somefin fierce that whole first winter. By the end of me first year, I’d drank the cow dry and outgrew the cottage. The barn became me home. Da fixed a bed out of sweet new hay, rigged up a pulley wit a rope and fastened it onto me wrist like a leash so I wouldn’t wander off. Every morning he’d open the big doors and let the light in, and every evening he sang me a lullaby until I fell fast asleep. It were never no mind that his voice always made the pigs squeal, the dog howl and the hens lay twice as many eggs. That last thing were good, cause I always could eat twice as much as they could lay.

When I was ten years of age, me da took me into the forest. Me head constantly got stuck in the tree branches nearest the top while me footfalls shook the needles and leaves to the ground. Me da were a woodcutter. Best woodsman ever. He knew which tree were the best fer smoking meat, burning fer heat or fer building a house. I was a natural, he said. The trees talked to me as they did to him. I needed no axe. I uprooted the tree and bit it down to the size he needed. At the end of the day, I’d catch a few bucks and we’d sell what venison we didn’t eat the next day. Not a bad life fer us.

So that were the way of things fer many a year. Me and me da, just living life as best we could. We went to market rarely. I never liked to go. People stare somefin awful when yous is different. They finks yous is stupid, too, just cause yous is big and slow. Da says, they’d be slow too if they had to lift up a trunk of a leg wit every step.

I never thought much about anybody else. I was content to follow Da about, help him wit his work and talk to the trees, saying,

“Oak, walnut, ash and pine,

Sing to me softly which one be mine.”

The year I turned ten and seven changed all that. I was asleep on me tuft of hay, but by this time half me legs stuck out of the barn I’d grown so big. I was awoken by the villagers, all carrying pitchforks and scythes and looking mighty displeased about somefin. They woke me da and pulled him into the barnyard.

Da was a cordial man. Never felt meanness. Not once. He stumbled out of the house, tucking his nightshirt into his trews and smiling at the large group of visitors.

“Morning, Geoff. Pleasant day, Robbie. Up early, ain’t you, Simon?”

The men frowned even darker. Robbie stepped forward. Da always said that man liked the sound of his voice so much it were a shame he were deaf in one ear. “We are here to lodge a complaint.”

“A complaint?” Da scratched his head and looked at the crowd. “I just delivered the wood this very Monday. It being Wednesday, I can’t see how I’ve done wrong.”

I scooched out of the barn. All the men turned and raised their farming tools threateningly. I frowned, but I didn’t respond, only sat wit me knees tucked under me chin. “Is it the wood?” I asked.

“That’s fair impossible, son,” me da said. “I know me wood almost as well as God. It speaks to me, it does, and I take no tree before it wishes to go.”

Robbie turned his attention to me da. “The wood is fine.”

“Fine?” Me da sounded insulted.

Robbie waved a hand in the air. “Better than fine. It’s the best, as you say. Nay, our complaint is on him,” he said pointing directly at me.

Now, I sat there thinking hard about what I had done and coming up wit nofin, and casting a worried eye at me da who stomped over and shook his finger up at me face. “What trouble did you stir up?”

“I didn’t,” I said wit a fair bit of fear. Had I been walking in me sleep? I hadn’t done that since I was five and played catch the cow wit ole Danny’s fat and lazy heifers he’d brought into the common lands fer better grazing. I looked at the angry men and said hesitantly, “I-I don’t think I did.”

Simon pushed his way forward. A bold man he be, though more blow than brains, me da was wont to say. “Don’t you play dumb with us.”

Me da’s face grew red. “Me lad ain’t dumb. He’s slow.”

Simon ignored me da and stubbornly thrust his jaw out at me. “We know what you did. It’s shrunk, overnight. Near gone, in fact. What are we to do now? I’ll tell you. We’ll starve. That’s what we’ll be doing thanks to you.”

Now, truly perplexed, I looked at me da and shook me head. “I don’t understand. What did I do?”

“The lake. It’s been licked nearly dry.”

Da scratched his head again. He weren’t no great thinker since he got his head smacked all those years ago, so I was thinking maybe we had fleas again. He looked at Simon, who stood wit his feet well apart as if he were itching to lay a jab on someone, and asked, “And you think me boy has done it?”

“We know he’s done it. How else could it have gone from lake to puddle in one night? Look at the river!”

“It’s a trickle,” Alain said from witin the crowd of men. “What am I to do? My millwheel won’t turn.”

“My sheep have nothing to drink,” another man said.

“How are we to water our crops?” came yet another complaint.

Robbie stepped closer. “Your lad will have to go.”

“Nay,” me father said, “you can’t ask it of me. He’s all I have.”

“We’ve put up with him long enough. He’s a drain on our village. You can’t deny that. We’ve been more than charitable with the likes of him about.”

Me da raked his hand through his hair so hard, a clump of gray wisps came out, trapped between his fingers. He were right distressed about it — me, not the hair. He were nearly bald now and a few more strands coming out didn’t make no never mind to him. Seeing his upset, I picked him up and cradled him in me palm. I knew what ailed him. This village… This forest… It all were his life. If he felt he must go wit me, then he would never be happy.

I smoothed his remaining hair wit me thumb. “Hush yourself, Da. It’s all right now. Wit the smarts you’ve given me, I can take care of meself.”

Great, chest-shaking sobs erupted from him. “But yer me son. Me only lad.”

“Aye, and that I will always be, whether near or far.”

“Then you’ll go?” demanded Robbie.

I put me da on the ground and looked at the angry men assembled in the yard. I must truly be a horrible man to cause them so much pain. It were never me wish. I didn’t even remember going near the lake, but they were sure it were me and I couldn’t say it weren’t. Me mouth got all tight wit sorrow and I nodded. “I’ll go.”

Wit his fists balled and ready to fight, me da lunged at Robbie. “Nay, he’s me lad. He’s all I have.”

Robbie pushed me puny da to the ground where he collapsed into a tight miserable ball.

I didn’t like that. A fierce rumble grew in me throat. I’d never felt anger before. Never felt this red hotness burning in me chest.

The men huddled together. Robbie put up his hands. “Now, lad. There’s no harm been done.” He nudged me da wit his boot. “Get up, you fool and tell him.”

But me da just lay there curled as tight as a hedgehog.

Robbie backed away. “I was only protecting myself,” he claimed.

When I stood, the group of angry men turned tail and ran, Robbie in the lead.

I scooped up me da and straightened his ruffled clothes. “I know you ain’t hurt.”

“It’s me heart,” he said, gasping as he tugged at his shirt. “I can’t feel it no more.”

“I don’t want to leave.” And I didn’t, but it weren’t what I wanted that mattered.

“Then don’t.”

“It’s best I do.” I nodded toward the rapidly retreating men. “They’re not so bad, you know. They’ve put up wit me this long.”

“You’re no trouble at all.”

“I am and you know that best of all.” I thought fer a moment and said, “I’ll tell you what. As soon as I gets settle where I’m at, I’ll send you a wife. That will ease your pain of loneliness.”

He sniffled. His tears lessened. “That would be grand, son. I never told ya, but I do miss your mum. She were a good woman.”

Wit our plan in place, it took me no time at all to pack what I needed fer me trip. I strung fifteen cows to me belt, put eighteen sheep in me knapsack, and filled four barrels wit water from our well which I put in a second sack. I had enough to last fer almost three whole days. When I was set to go, I knelt on one knee before me da and leaned my elbow on the other.

He pulled out a patchwork bag, and placed it in me hand. “Tain’t much, but it’ll keep you for a while.”

The golden coins chinked musically witin the cloth. It were a fair share he’d given me fer all the work I done. “It’s more than enough.” I pocketed the gold and stared off into the horizon. This would be the last time I saw the blue forest or the barn or anything I’d come to call home. Wit a sigh of regret, I looked down again. “I’ll miss you, Da.”

“I’ll miss you, too.” My hand dangled free and he hugged one of me fingers. I gently stroked the top of his head. Would I ever find a place to call me own?

The little man stepped back, and forced a smile to his lips. I stood. There were no reason to stay, so I began me journey to somewhere else.

Witout me da and the cart that would carry the wood back to the house, I was surprised at how quickly I came to the forest. Me legs were long, and strong, and I covered a great deal of ground wit each step. In no time I moved through the forest and onto new land that I’d never seen. The world, I discovered were bigger than me, yet it became clear that I was the biggest thing on it. I came upon an elephant — it weren’t too tasty; a bit chewy if you ask me. And though it were fairly big, I was much bigger. Funny thing, not too far from that elephant, I saw people so small, I nearly stepped on them. I’m usually very careful about that. Only once did I miss and squish a man wit me heel, but the other man said it weren’t much of a loss and to give it no second thought. So I didn’t.

I did a lot of exploring those first few years. I was fairly surprised to find that most people are very shy, but very generous wit their livestock. All I did was ask if I could have a bite, and quick as you please, they slap the cow or pig or sheep me way and then run into their homes and shut their doors. I always said thank you, but I’m not sure they all understood me. Some people talk funny.

I seen mountains so high, it took a fair bit o’ climbing to get over them, and lakes so deep they had weird long-necked, lumpy-bodied creatures swimming near the bottom. Now thems were tasty. I ate me fill of them; it were a nice change from cow. By-and-by I came to a stretch of water the people called the ocean. It were cold and it tasted salty. As I looked out, I could see land on the other side. It were a fair piece to swim, but so far I hadn’t found a place I could call home. Now, I’m not a good swimmer, and that there bit of water were a mite longer than I wanted to claw through, so I grabbed hold of two ships docked snug as you please in the harbor and tucked one under each arm. Wit them, keeping me afloat, I kicked me way across the channel. Before long, I was staring up at these white cliffs. Pretty they were. I let go of the ships and waded out of the water. Them cliffs might have been pretty, but they were the devil to climb. The rock crumbed like goat cheese and left me hands all powdery-white. When I gots to the top, a very nervous shepherd told me this here land were called England. Then he ran away. Odd little fellow.