Briar and Rose and Jack

by Katherine Coville

  “I wish I didn’t know!” she speaks aloud. “I wish I didn’t know.” But now that she has the knowledge, what can she do about it? Would it help Rose to be warned of the fate that awaits her? Was there any alternative for her? What would Briar wish for her to do? Refuse Udolf’s proposal? Run away and save herself? Let the king and the kingdom go to ruin? In a moment of sudden clarity she knows that Rose will do what she sees as her duty, no matter what the cost, and Briar grieves for her.

  And the secret stockpile of food and treasure? Briar burns fiercely with the injustice of it. What should she do with such knowledge? Whom could she tell? What would happen if the peasants learned the truth? She shies away from the thought. First she must find Rose and warn her of the spinning wheel.

  * * *

  Rose stands despondent in the center of a group of bustling women, all of them seemingly oblivious to the expression of tragedy on her lovely face. She has barely come out of her room for days. The queen thinks she is upset because of the giant’s brutal attack, but she does not know that Rose’s heart is broken, or why. Since Rose can put it off no longer, the women are doing the final fittings on her ball dress—a confection in white, embellished with pale blue and gold embroidery. Twenty seamstresses with twenty needles have worked for twenty days to make this gown worthy of the most beautiful princess anyone could imagine. But the princess does not smile. She is hurting, and the strain and resentment of holding her feelings in is too much to bear. She is ready to lash out at the first person to cross her.

  Briar enters the room and tries to get close to Rose, which seems at first impossible. Only after half an hour of being pushed and shoved unceremoniously out of the way does she get a chance to flash the Giant Killers’ sign at her. Rose, upon seeing this, tells the women she has had enough and orders them out of the room.

  “Well? What is it?” Rose asks.

  Briar, suddenly unsure of herself, hesitates. “It’s . . . There’s something I have to tell you, and it’s terribly important.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “It’s about your birthday. I’ve just found out something. Something terrible.”

  “Perhaps you shouldn’t repeat it if it’s so terrible.”

  “But you must be warned!”

  “Warned about what?”

  Briar searches for the right words and finally blurts out, “The gray fairy put a curse on you when you were just a baby! She said that on your sixteenth birthday you’d prick your finger on a spinning wheel and die!”

  An expression of distaste and dismay crosses Rose’s lovely features. All her pent-up feelings of grief and resentment come rushing to the surface, and she finally lets loose. “What a horrid thing to say! Did you think I needed some more bad news?”

  “I’m sorry. I can imagine how upset you must be about Lan.”

  “No, I don’t think you can!”

  “But—”

  “I don’t want to hear any more. You’re just listening to a lot of jealous busybodies. If this were true, my mother would have told me!”

  “Well, maybe she will. There’s still time. You should know that the gold fairy softened the curse so you would just be put to sleep. But I had to be sure you were warned, so I’m telling you myself—just don’t touch the spindle of a spinning wheel!”

  “A spinning wheel? I never heard of such a thing. Are you trying to scare me?”

  “Is that what you really think I’m doing?”

  Rose, unable to bear any more calamities, rejects Briar’s words utterly. She counters with the first denunciation she can think of. “What else are you trying to do but upset me? You’re just jealous! You’ve always been jealous, and you can’t stand it that this whole ball is going to be for me.”

  Briar is stung by this accusation, and anger swells in her heart. She thinks of what she has risked to warn Rose, only to be so unjustly accused. Suddenly, this very minute, she is past caring whether Rose believes her. She only wants to hurt her back. “If I really wanted to scare you, I’d tell you who your father is going to choose for your husband!”

  “How would you know? Nobody will know until he announces it tomorrow!”

  “I won’t tell you how I know, but I do! He’s already chosen King Udolf! I know that he’s three times your age, and I know that he’s coarse and ruthless. He’s the richest and most powerful of all your suitors, and that’s why he was chosen. So there you go. Sweet dreams!”

  “You’re so jealous, you’re just about turning green! That’s because not one of my suitors would even so much as look at you!”

  In all their arguments, this is the first time Rose has ever made reference to Briar’s appearance, and the volley hits home. Briar responds in kind. “So what? The only reason they look at you is because they don’t care if you haven’t got a brain in your head!”

  “Just stop talking and go away!”

  “I will!” Briar retorts as she turns on her heel to depart. The young women separate, each of them sick with anger and remorse, but both far too stubborn to admit to the remorse.

   Chapter Two

  “OH, JACK. JACK! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” groans Mother Mudge. She shakes her head in despair. “Now we will surely starve!” she wails. “How could you be so heedless?”

  Jack places the magic beans back in his pouch and puts his arm around her. “Mother, you must trust me. I’m going off to plant these beans. Stop your crying now. If I’m quick and lucky, it will all come right in the end.”

  With that, he grabs a shovel and sets off to search for a place beyond the far fields, where the beanstalk can grow without destroying any of the crops. After much looking about and figuring, he settles on a spot due east from the mountain, directly beneath the outer edge of the enormous cloud that always surrounds its top. He begins to dig. Hoping that he has chosen well, he makes five holes in a wide circle, ten feet apart. Then he kneels down and carefully plants each bean in its hole, tucking it in with a blanket of loose dirt and a wish. For a moment, his confidence is shaken as he realizes that he has staked everything on these five beans. A giant beanstalk was the only way he could imagine to get back up to the giant’s house without a horse, and it would have to be closer to the giant’s house than the mountain if he were to have a chance at escaping quickly. Would it turn out that he had been a gullible fool who had traded his cow for starvation? He refuses to believe it. Straightening up, he claps the dirt off his hands, and, looking up to the cloud, he shakes one fist in the air and cries, “I’m coming for you!”

  * * *

  After much agonized thought, Briar has made a decision. Shaking her head as she walks along, she mutters to herself, “It isn’t fair! It isn’t right!” She will tell Mother Mudge the truth about the king’s secret stockpile of food and treasure, and let her decide what to do with the information. She knocks at the door to Jack’s cottage.

  “Go away!” comes a muffled cry from within.

  Briar, realizing that something is very wrong, knocks again and calls, “Mother Mudge? It’s me, Briar. Can I come in?”

  Finally, the door opens, and there stands Mother Mudge, who leans against the doorframe, moaning to herself over and over again, “Oh Jack, what have you done?”

  “Dear Mother Mudge, what is the matter?” Briar asks.

  Mother Mudge clutches Briar’s shoulder. “It’s Jack. He’s off on some fool’s errand. He traded our only cow for a handful of beans, and now we’re going to starve.” A tear makes its way down her sunken cheek.

  “Oh, Mother Mudge! You know I won’t let that happen. I’ll bring you food!” Before she says any more, Briar gives a moment’s thought to the king and the trouble she is about to cause him; then she thinks of all her hungry friends—and she continues. “That’s what I came to tell you, Mother Mudge. There’s plenty of food to be had! The king has a secret store of food and treasure! He’s using the Giant Tax to hoard a stockpile for himself—even though his people are starving!”

  Mother Mudge holds Bri
ar’s shoulders in an iron grip, looks into the girl’s eyes, and cries, “King Warrick taxes his hungry people while he rolls in plenty?” She shakes Briar in helpless fury. Suddenly, with a visible effort, she takes several deep breaths, then calms herself and lets go, patting the girl’s shoulders gently.

  “You’re a good girl, Briar,” she says, “but are you sure? This could lead to a world of trouble.”

  “I heard the king himself say it to the queen! She was trying to warn him against it. They didn’t know I was listening.”

  “And you’re sure that’s what he meant? Think carefully now.”

  “It couldn’t have been any clearer! He said, ‘What the villagers don’t know won’t hurt them.’ He said, ‘They’ll be grateful for the leftovers.’”

  “Oh, he did, did he?” Mother Mudge dries her tears and assumes a look of deadly resolve. “People ought to know! We’ve got to get the word out! Come along with me. We’ll spread this all over the village, and you can give everyone a firsthand account.” Mother Mudge puts on her shawl, and the two of them hurry out the door.

  All the way up the street they go, stopping at each house, staying only long enough to deliver the message. Mother Mudge, who is known to everyone, says to them, “This must not stand!” and the villagers shake their fists and agree. Then neighbor calls on neighbor, spreading the story like fire in dry tinder. Many a voice is raised in pain, betrayal, and outrage, and a conspiracy is born.

  * * *

  Beyond the far field, five magic beans have sprouted, erupting from the earth like massive trees. They twist and twine into one giant beanstalk, bigger around than Jack’s cottage. It grows and grows, curling and stretching, sprouting huge leaves and enormous green beans. Now it reaches clear up to the sky—just as the old man said it would—and there, halfway up, is Jack, looking down and holding on for dear life.

  He sees the cultivated fields below, all in patches like a quilt. He sees the whole village and the castle, as tiny as toys. He thinks that if he falls from this height he will surely die, and he pauses, trying to summon the nerve to keep climbing. Then he realizes that falling from an even greater height can still only kill him once, and he forces himself to reach for the next branch and continue upward. The air grows cooler and cooler as he ascends, and the wind whips all around him. The knapsack of supplies he packed for the trip weighs heavily on his shoulders, and his fears and doubts weigh even more. He climbs for another hour, sweat cold upon his brow, muscles aching from the strain, until at last, gasping for breath, he reaches the edge of the cloud.

  It looks so soft and hazy that he hesitates to set foot on it, even though he knows how strong it is. Finally, he leaps down and lands on the spongy surface. A pervasive mist swirls around him, concealing him up to his chest, and he takes a moment to look around. Far in the west, he sees the mountaintop rising above the clouds, just as he surmised. And there, not too far away, lies the giant’s grand, tall house. Summoning his energy, he makes a mad dash across a field’s width of cloud. He wears no skunk scent this time, remembering that it nearly gave him away on his first trip up the mountain years ago. He will just have to trust to luck. So far, his luck has held; he’s made it up the beanstalk safely, and his calculations have proved correct. The location of the beanstalk couldn’t be more perfect for a quick getaway.

  Now he pauses, reconnoitering. As he decides to try his luck at the back door, he nearly stumbles upon a low window casement in the mist, and suddenly he recalls the barred window he had discovered on his last trip. Bending down, he peers between the bars into the dim room and lets his eyes adjust. There, in a corner, he sees a huddled human-size figure sitting with his knees drawn up, leaning his arms and his head upon them.

  “Psst!” Jack hisses. “Hey, you in there. Who are you?”

  The head comes up, and though Jack can scarcely make out its features, the figure struggles to his feet and a voice cries, “Jack! It’s me, Lan! Lanford Cole! How did you get here?”

  “I climbed up a magic—well never mind that. Lan—you’re still alive! Are you all right?”

  “I’m perishing, Jack. The giant wants to starve me slowly before he kills me, but his woman takes pity on me and slips in some food every now and then. The giant comes to my cell every day and tells me some new way he’s thought of to finish me off, just to torment me. I’m half out of my mind! I can’t believe you’ve come.”

  “God’s teeth, I wish I had some food to give you. I’ve had nothing to eat myself since yesterday. Is there any way to get you out of there? I have some rope in my pack. You could climb up to the window, but it wouldn’t do you any good. These bars are too close together for you to fit between them.” Jack grips the bars in his hands and tries to rattle them for all he’s worth, but they don’t budge. “I can’t help you this way. You say the giant woman has taken pity on you?”

  “Yes. Do you have something in mind?”

  “I’m thinking I should find her and see if she’ll let you out.”

  “Best beware, Jack. She’s greatly afraid of the giant. There’s no telling how far she can be pushed.”

  “I’ve got to try! I’m off to test my luck. If I don’t come back, say a prayer for me.”

  “I will, brother. I’ll start now!”

  Jack hauls his pack over one shoulder and trudges on for several minutes toward the rear of the house and around the corner to the enormous back door. Once there, he watches and waits for a chance to sneak in. He observes what looks to be a clothesline strung between two posts not far from the door, and he hides behind one of the posts. From an open window, he hears the sound of a hoarse voice singing a cheerless dirge of drudgery and woe. A minute later, the door opens and out comes the female giant. Not so large as the giant, she has a gnarled and withered face, a face that has seen too much. She hauls along a big basket of laundry and begins to drape the clothes over the clothesline. Jack screws up his courage and calls up to her, softly at first, and then just loud enough so that she can hear him.

  She peers over the clothesline and looks directly at Jack. “What do you think you’re doing here, boy? Are you crazy? Don’t you know a giant lives here—a giant who eats ones such as you? Begone with you before he wakes up and gets a whiff of you!”

  “Good lady,” Jack shouts up to her, “you have a friend of mine locked up in a cell, half starved. Only let him go and we’ll both be gone. Have pity on us, good woman.” Jack waits for her reply, every nerve on edge.

  “I couldn’t let him free if I wanted to,” comes the answer. “He’s locked up fast, and the giant keeps the key on a chain around his neck. I just sneak the lad food through the bars on his door, but I fear the giant will soon kill him horribly. He’s surpassing cruel. I work and slave for him from before dawn until after dark, yet he’s mistreated me so that I’m an old woman before my time. I hate and fear him, but there’s little I can do for you.”

  “Tell me his weaknesses, then, and let me in so I can defeat him.”

  The tall woman laughs derisively. “You’ve got nerve to spare, young man, if you hope to defeat such as him. He’s half blinded now, but that won’t save you. Better to get out of here quickly, before he wakes up from his nap. But wait—” she says, disappearing into the house. A minute later she opens the door and says, “Take some of this filthy gold back with you. Stolen money can bring nothing but bad luck! Here, take this bag—and good riddance!” The giantess holds what is to her a very small bag of gold, and she bends down to give it to Jack. Jack stands, staring wide-eyed at the bag. So much gold! Then he takes off his knapsack and, pulling a coil of rope out of it, stuffs the bag of gold in. Putting it back over his shoulders, he is dismayed by the weight of it, but he straightens up and thanks the good woman.

  “Tell me, when does he sleep?” asks Jack, determined to glean some information before he leaves.

  “He stays up counting his treasure till the moon is overhead each night. In the morning he sleeps until well after sunrise. Then he has to have h
is breakfast in bed, and he makes that screeching harp play for him. That’s his habit, for all the good it will do you.”

  Jack thanks her again. He picks up the coil of rope and turns to go back the way he came, his mind already working furiously to come up with some plan for his next trip up the beanstalk. He trudges all the way back around the house to the barred window where Lan is imprisoned, and he tells Lan about the key to his cell being around the giant’s neck.

  “I’m going back down to get some tools and maybe some help. So hold on. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Maybe tonight.”

  “All right. And Jack? If I don’t make it . . . tell Princess Rose that I loved her.”

  Jack’s face lights up. “Really? That’s something! Does she know?”

  “I think she knows, but I’ve never told her. It wouldn’t matter anyway. She’s too far above me. I just want her to hear it, for once, if I die.”

  “Well, don’t give up hope, Lan. I’ll be back!” Jack swallows hard, fighting tears, and, adjusting the heavy load on his shoulders, he leaves the rope next to the window, where it is obscured by the mist, and heads for the beanstalk. The return trip to earth is arduous and fraught with danger. Twice he misses his step and finds himself hanging by his hands, his burden of gold dragging him down as he feels desperately with his toes for a secure foothold. Once, he slips his foot into a tightly twined vine and is caught there, unable to free himself until he gives up his shoe. Tired to the bone, he carefully lowers himself, one hand or foot at a time, minute by minute inching closer to the ground. Two hours later, totally exhausted, he collapses at the foot of the beanstalk, and there he rests, almost unable to move. His growling stomach relentlessly reminds him that he needs food, and so, with great difficulty, he gets to his feet and picks up the heavy knapsack. He lurches toward home, hoping that his mother will have found something to eat. When at last he does arrive, Mother Mudge throws her arms around him and cries, “Jack! Oh, Jack! Where have you been?”