Once Upon a Time: The Villains (14 page)

“If you say so, wife.” I wasn’t really listening. I had visions of me da working in this forest and coming to visit me every day. Wouldn’t he be proud?

“Listen carefully, husband. You’ll have to kill the king’s to get the castle.”

Me ears burned at that. “I don’t likes to hurt people.”

“Like it or not, you’ll do it. If not, the Englishmen will chase you down and kill
you
.”

I blinked back me surprise. “Why?”

She sighed. “You really don’t know? It’s because you frighten them. You’re bigger and stronger and better than any of them.” She stood. “Do you understand? If you don’t kill the king, he’ll call upon every Englishman in the land to kill you.”

“That ain’t right,” I said wit a frown. In fact, it were right mean. “I didn’t do nofin to them.”

“That’s right,” Essie agreed. “Do you see how horrible he is? We’ll wait until dark, when the clouds shadow the forest, and then we’ll sneak up to the castle. The king will be wearing a crown. As soon as you kill him, everyone else will do exactly as you say. You’ll be king and everything will be perfect.”

Me Essie, she were smart. I did exactly what she said and by morning, the king was dead (I squished him wit just me thumb fer poking me in the toe wit his sword), and his wife and young son whisked away by goodly servants (I was pleased to hear that, for I didn’t wish to hurt the wee tyke and his mummy). I looked about me and grinned. I had meself a castle. It were right pretty, too. But not only that, I could stretch out me legs and stand up tall as I walked from room to room. The walls expanded wherever I went, fitting itself to me. Essie said it were the work of faeries who had made the castle.

At first, I liked living in our castle, and me Essie, she were right happy. But after a while, being king didn’t set well wit me. Essie said people would do what I said. That weren’t true. Them faeries weren’t happy wit me squishing the king and they plotted with the villagers against me. I was scared to go outside, because every time I did, some poor soul tried to do me in. A magic arrow here — it gave me a horrible sting, and I had a scab fer days on end that itched ever-so-much; a hole in the ground there — once I felled in, I hefted meself out right onto a group of soldiers on horseback. It took me hours to pluck them all off me clothes, and Essie were mad, for it took her twelve washings to get me tunic clean. But the worse? A knight on the back of a dragon. It were terrifying. The beastie hissed fire and burned me eyebrows off. I was so mad at that, I brought me hands together and smooshed the pair between me palms.

It stung, that did.

Essie cooked the pair for me dinner. Said it served them right for being so hateful to their king. Them Englishmen, they smelled far better roasted on a spit than walking about on foot. I found I liked the taste of them. A small dash of salt was all I needed, but roasted dragon left a sour coating on me tongue. When Essie weren’t looking, I pitched it with the knight’s armor over the wall into the moat. When the servants heard I ate the knight, one-by-one, they slipped away from the castle till all that were left were Essie and me.

“This will never do,” Essie complained, pacing the great hall. “There’s too much work for one pair of hands. There’s no help for it, you’ll have to go collect them back.”

“But I don’t like going out. Can’t you do it?”

“You’re the king. If they balk, smoosh them.”

I frowned and glanced down at me palms. “Smooshing makes me hands all messy.”

With one of her little fingers shaking at me, Essie shouted, “Then stomp on them. Do whatever you must to get me some help around here.” Turning away, she left in a huff.

I was scared of the Englishmen, there was no doubt, but I was more scared of Essie when she got all in a snit. She might stop cooking, and that would be a shame because I liked the way she fed me.

So I went and collected a handful of villagers to serve me Essie. When one disobeyed, Essie called for a smooshing. I didn’t enjoy doing it, but it always ended in a good English supper. Essie even figured out what to do wit their ground up bones after I’d squished them. “Waste not, want not,” she’d say as she kneaded the powdered bones into the bread dough. That bread were tasty as could be.

Then one day, while I was gathering up a new crop of servants, I came across a fat little man. I sniffed and snuffled and said in a threatening voice,

“Fee, fie, foe, fum,

I smell the blood of an Englishman.

Be he live or be he dead,

I’ll grind his bones to make me bread.”

I must have scared him good, because the roly poly man suddenly threw himself out from his hiding place and began to cry. “O great and mighty King, please spare me.”

Now, I never did have nobody call me great or mighty and I liked it fairly well. But these here Englishmen were a cunning sort and I didn’t trust them much. “Why?” I demanded, nudging his belly and watching it jiggle. “You look fit enough.”

“I served the old king well, Your Wonderfulness, but I am old now and my bones are weak.”

I’d heard that excuse before. “Even old bones can use a broom.”

I plucked him off the ground and started to drop him in me pocket when he shouted, “Wait! I have something you will want. I shall show it to you if you put me down and leave me be.”

No one had ever offered a trade before. I cocked me head. Maybe I would make this one me jester, for he was right entertaining. “What would that be? I’m not as easy to please as you may think.”

“Of that I am aware. You ate my brother last year for sneezing.”

“You’re wrong about that. I don’t eat the sick ones. But that’s here nor there. Me Essie needs help, be you last a day or a week or as long as a month. It’s you I’ve found and you’ll I’ll be taking.”

He squealed at that and placed his hands beneath his wobbly chins as if he were praying. “What if I said I have a goose that lays golden eggs?”

“A goose? I don’t like goose. Too greasy.”

His mouth hung agape for a moment. “But mine lays
golden
eggs.”

Did he think me a fool? “Hen, goose or duck, all yolks are yellow.”

“No, no, no. Real gold.”

Eh? “That shiny stuff?” He had my interest now. I liked that shiny stuff. So did Essie. “Show me.”

I put him down and he scurried off and came back with the goose. It didn’t look so special. “Make it lay an egg,” I commanded.

“Only in the morning will it do so.”

I grunted. “If you be lying to me, I shall be back.” I picked up the goose and left. When I got home, Essie thought me a fool. I had to stop her from wringing the goose’s neck. And she were right happy I did, for the next morning, there sat a golden egg beside the goose.

“Faeries’ work. That’s what this is.” Essie’s eyes danced with glee. “I wonder what else is hiding in our land?”

That were it. Once Essie gets an idea, nothing and nobody can change her mind. From then on, I went out and searched for little bits of magic in exchange for the villagers’ freedom. Faery dust from this one; a singing harp from that one. This one old woman tried to trade me magic beans for her grandson. Magic beans. Ha! One year, I even got me da a wife, just like I promised him I would. She weren’t magic, but she were plump and pretty and eager to go.

Year after year I’d go collect them Englishmen or their treasures until pretty soon, each were as scarce as bees in winter. Not a soul could be found to serve in the castle. That weren’t the only thing that made Essie displeased. I hadn’t brought home anything truly interesting in over a year. “They’re hiding it from you,” she screeched. “They think you’re stupid, that they can outsmart a giant. It makes me laugh, for indeed they have. You wouldn’t know a treasure if it came up to you and said hello.”

It’d been ten years since we found our castle. I liked it very much. But lately, I was getting right weary of Essie’s caterwauling. I was beginning to think I could give her the moon and she would want the sun. I had a mind to smoosh her…and I told her so.

Her eyes widened and she grew pale as a sheet. “Me? You’d do that to me, your ever-loving wife?”

“You ain’t acting too lovely to me,” I muttered as I sat beside the fire, warming me toes. Essie stumbled back, her hand to her throat. Her mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out. It were nice fer a change. But seeing her terror, I relented. “Don’t stop breathing just yet. If I did smoosh you, who’d cook fer me? Nay woman, you’re safe…fer now.” I took a pinch of faery dust from a pouch at me waist and sprinkled her with it. “I bind thee to the kitchen and its garden to cook fer me.”

“But…but…”

I frowned. She were about to find her voice again.

“You can’t do this to me. I’m your wife!” The faery dust shimmered as it began its work. Essie scowled at me. “You’ll be sorry. Just wait. You’ll be—” With a shudder, she were gone.

I sighed. Peace at last.

I turned to the harp and commanded it to play. Sweet music poured from its belly. As I listened, I imagined a little hut in the woods where me and me da lived, and where no one bothered me anymore. Soon, I was asleep.

When the sun rose, so did I. I enjoyed wandering me castle and counting the gold. Breakfast was simple — a roasted goat, a stuffed pig, twelve meat pies, a vat of pudding and four kegs of ale. I belched and rubbed me tummy, giving Essie a pleased look. She were quiet, already busy preparing me next meal. Her hands were elbow deep in bread dough. I sighed, more content than I’d been in years. “That were right tasty, wife. Thank you.”

I stood. “Today I’m off to see the woods. I’ll be back fer supper.”

Essie didn’t reply, and I hesitated. “Did you hear me, wife?”

“I did. Supper will be waiting.”

I grunted. This quiet woman were a change. A good change. “You’re a fine woman, Essie.”

I left and spent all day rambling about the woods. I watched the squirrels skitter from tree to tree and the birds rise in an undulating black ribbon against the pale-blue sky. I napped. I sang. I watched the forest creatures like I did when I was a child. I felt the pulse of the earth and I smiled. I hadn’t felt so free in years.

When I returned to the castle, I went straight to the kitchen. Something were different. Three cows rolled slowly on the spit. Sixteen blueberry pies bubbled in the oven and the smell of fresh bread greeted me. But something were definitely different. I sniffed. There it were. The scent of sweat and leeks and ... thyme.

I frowned.

“Fee fie foe fum.

I smell the blood of an Englishman.”

Essie hefted the lid on a pot. “It’s leek soup with thyme. I thought it’d taste good with the beef.”

I grunted. “Are you sure? I swear I smell an Englishman.

“There hasn’t been an Englishman round here in years. You’ve eaten them all.”

“I did? Well, I don’t trust the little mites. They’re sneaky as well as smelly.”

“You’re over tired, husband. Eat and then rest.”

Maybe that were it. I
was
tired. So, I ate and retired to the hall where I sat before a faery-dust fire that warmed me toes to perfection. I commanded the harp to sing and soon I was asleep. The next morning, I awoke. I did as I always did, after finding the golden egg the goose had laid, I counted me gold. But a whole bag of golden eggs were missing. “Oi!” I shouted. “What’s this? Someone has stolen me gold!”

I found Essie in the kitchen, humming to herself. “Gold is gone missing,” I shouted.

“Gold missing? That’s silly. It’s just you and me here. Why would we take what’s already ours? You must have counted wrong.”

I scratched me head. She had a point. I’d been known to count wrong in the past, but I’d gotten pretty good at it since I became king and the goose had come to the castle. I tore off a chunk of bread. “Maybe.”

“Maybe yes. Even I would have a time counting all you have. I’m sure you’ll find it tomorrow.” Essie poured me a bowl of oatmeal. “What are you off to today?”

I liked this new Essie. She was nice and she reminded me of the girl I met on the island all those years ago. Maybe I should threaten to squish her more often. “I’ll be going to the village.”

“Suit yourself, but I don’t see why you bother.”

Though it had been abandoned years ago, I still liked visiting and searching through what the villagers had left behind. After breakfast, I did just that.

I was careful not to upset or destroy anything. It looked as if the villagers were still abed and that any moment they would pop out of their houses and begin their day. I lifted one house off the ground and examined what I found inside. Nothing of consequence. I spent the day rummaging about and by the time I was done, it were supper time.

Again, I went to the kitchen and again I sniffed the air. I stomped me feet and clinched me jaw.

“Fee, fie, foe, fum.

I smell the blood of an Englishman.

Be he live or be he dead,

I’ll grind his bones to make me bread.”

Essie stood wit her hands on her hips. “Must you make such a hullabaloo? There is no one here but you and me. Sit down before the food turns cold.”

I sat in me chair and tried to understand why I thought I smelled an Englishman. I looked over me shoulder. “Are we having leek soup again?”

“What a thing to say! When have I cooked the same thing two days in a row?” She plopped down a huge pastry and cut it open. “Leek, thyme and bacon pie.”

“You sure like leeks all of a sudden,” I say with a grumble.

“They’re ripe in the garden.”

Luckily, there was more than leek, thyme and bacon pie, and soon I were filled to the brim. I went to the hall and sat in me chair and after I thought for a moment, I commanded the harp to play. Soon, I’m asleep. But me dreams are troubling, and the goose was honking as if it were upset about somefin. When I awoke, I rubbed sleep from me eyes.

“Poor goose.” I had to see how she faired. I hunted all morning. No goose. And worse, no egg. When I told Essie, she said it probably went outside looking fer a gander.

“I didn’t know we had a gander.”

“We don’t, but I’m sure she’ll figure it out and come back inside. What with that goose dropping eggs all over the castle, it’s a wonder you haven’t slipped and broken your neck.”