Briar and Rose and Jack

by Katherine Coville

  “Oh!” Rose gasps, her hand to her mouth.

  Briar looks past her just as the cluster of fairies in the center of the room turn and see her with Rose.

  “Princess Rose!” they exclaim, all talking together.

  “Why, look! It’s the princess!”

  “Isn’t she lovely!”

  “But who woke her up?”

  “Somebody must have.”

  “Well then, we should wake everyone else up!”

  “But wait!” says the gold fairy. “Maybe she can restore that valiant young man who came to save her! That spell didn’t go away when all the others did. It must need something more.”

  “Maybe she should kiss him!” titters the pink fairy.

  “Yes! Yes!” the others chime in.

  Rose barely hesitates. So what if her father intended her for King Udolf? She wasn’t married yet! She stands on tiptoes, puts her hands on Lan’s icy shoulders and her warm lips to his frozen ones, and closes her eyes. At first his lips are very cold and wet, but then there is a tingling, a definite tingling, and then a bit of warmth, then a definite warmth, and he’s kissing back! She opens her eyes and beholds Lan, thawed but a little damp, smiling at her with the most delightful, charming, captivating, delectable, wonderful, spectacular smile she has ever seen.

  “You’re awake!” he says.

  “You’re safe!” she says, and they stare into each other’s eyes as if no one else were even there.

  Meanwhile, the gold fairy confers with the other fairies, who all agree that it is time to start waking people up. The gold fairy sends each fairy off in a different direction, and they begin the happy task of waking people and animals.

  “What happened to the gray fairy?” Briar asks the gold fairy. “There was roaring, and the whole castle was shaking.”

  “She burned in her own fire. I tried to warn her, but she wouldn’t listen.”

  Despite Briar’s loathing for the gray fairy, she doesn’t want to think about her last horrible moments. Wiping her brow, she looks down at her torn and scorched clothing and sighs heavily. “Could you maybe help me out?”

  “My dear, are you all right?” asks the gold fairy.

  “I think so. It’s mostly my clothes and some scratches and burns.”

  “Well, the clothes I can help with!” says the gold fairy, and with a few swishes of her wand she has transformed Briar’s outfit into an elegant purple gown.

  “Oh, thank you!” Briar says. Then, looking at Rose and Lan, she adds, “Maybe you should do Lan too. He’s been locked up in a dungeon for a while, and then—”

  “I’ll fix him!” the blue fairy squeals, and she aims a bolt of magic at Lan that leaves him looking like a young prince.

  Rose, staring deeply into his eyes, barely notices.

  “Perfect!” says Briar. Then she and the gold fairy look on as the other fairies flit about the hall, sprinkling magic dust over everyone. People are sitting up, yawning and stretching, and rubbing the sleep from their eyes. Briar whispers in the gold fairy’s ear, “You do know that most of these people are here to stage a rebellion? They might be pretty mad when they wake up and remember what they came here for—”

  The pink fairy hovers nearby, listening in. “Oh, piffle!” she interrupts, and she flits off and sprinkles some magic over the musicians. They slowly awaken and stretch, then pick up their instruments and begin to play, lending a festive air to the proceedings. “That makes it so much nicer,” declares the pink fairy. “Who can be angry, listening to such beautiful music? We’ll entertain them too!” She gently awakens the jugglers and acrobats and the jester, Zane, who observes the fairies sprinkling their magic on everyone and asks for some fairy dust so he can help too. The pink fairy sprinkles some liberally on the end of his baton, and he goes merrily bopping the sleeping people on their heads with it.

  “Awaken! Awaken, my pretties! Open your eyes and behold your princess—all well and good!” Zane cries. The people awaken, looking peaceful but confused.

  The pink fairy suddenly remembers the strange old woman she put to sleep on the tower stairs, and she flits off to find her. She flutters up several stairways before finding the right one, and then, with the air of a child expecting to be rewarded for a job well done, she shakes loose a dose of magic on Hilde’s recumbent form and a dash on the small red imp.

  “—ool!” Hilde’s eyes pop open as she completes her long-interrupted sentence. She looks all about and then, spotting the pink fairy, demands to know what has transpired.

  “Princess Rose has been awakened from her enchanted sleep! We fairies are waking everyone up again!” With that, the fairy whisks herself away, and Hilde, who knows nothing of the gray fairy’s firestorm or even of the smoldering riot in the great hall below, drags her creaking bones to an upright position and, reluctantly, descends the stairs.

  * * *

  Slowly, riddled with confusion, the villagers are awakening. The musicians and mummers are presenting an improvised version of St. George and the Dragon, a perennial favorite, and the visiting royals are distracted by this entertainment while the groggy villagers are trying to remember why they are here. With a sprinkle of fairy dust, the king and queen open their eyes and try to recall how and when they ended up prone on the floor. They wobble to their feet, recovering their crowns and placing them crookedly on their heads. Then they dust themselves off, embarrassed to be seen as less than regal. The king’s counselors are awakening as well, Bishop Simon looking about for someone to blame for his aching head.

  The queen has barely gotten to her feet when she remembers Lady Beatrice’s terrible announcement: the princess in a deathly sleep! The gray fairy’s curse come true! “Rose!” she cries, and abandoning any attempt at royal formality, she runs toward the staircase, needing to get to her child. But there, at the foot of the stairs, she sees her daughter, quite awake and happy, staring lovingly into the eyes of the painter’s apprentice as if she never wanted to look away. The queen is overwhelmed with relief. She is so relieved, in fact, that she barely cares that Rose is obviously in love with this commoner. Never mind the planned betrothal to King Udolf. Never mind the fate of the kingdom. She wants only to hold her daughter in her arms and be reassured that she is safe and well. She envelops Rose in a hug, which Rose accepts stiffly, remembering all too clearly that her parents are preparing to marry her off to the noxious King Udolf.

  “My dear daughter,” says the queen, “how happy I am that you are restored to us!” She holds Rose’s face in her hands and kisses her on the forehead. Then, recalling her queenly duty, she observes the crowd of dazed villagers shaking themselves and picking up their weapons. Hoping to forestall a resumption of hostilities, she takes Rose by the hand, saying, “We must spread the good news at once!”

  Rose allows herself to be led, her other hand holding firmly on to Lan, as the queen quickly makes her way back to the dais. The king, busily rousing members of the palace guard, suddenly sees his daughter, and a huge smile splits his face. He briefly abandons his great dignity and enfolds her in an embrace; then he signals a bugler to blow his horn and calls out loudly for attention. Still half asleep and befuddled, the villagers look to him questioningly.

  “My people,” he calls out. “I have joyous news! Princess Rose has been awakened from the curse that nearly took her from us! And here she is!” The villagers have been anxiously protecting their beautiful young Princess Rose from the knowledge of the gray fairy’s curse for the past sixteen years. They fill the air with cries of relief and joy. The musicians strike up a song of celebration. The years of secret dread are over! Their princess has survived the curse! Then the pink fairy appears, full size, by the king’s side and whispers in his ear. If possible, his smile grows even broader. “And I have more news,” he calls out to the crowd. “The gray fairy is gone forever and can do no more harm!” There is a collective shout of exultation and cries of “Huzzah!” But the blithe spirits are short-lived. As the villagers come to full awarenes
s, a murmur travels through the crowd. They remember what they came for, and they are not to be distracted from their purpose.

  “What of the years of near starvation?” a voice yells out, and the music dies down.

  “What of the hidden stores of food?” bellows another, more loudly.

  “What of the king’s duplicity?” cries another.

  More voices are raised. The murmur becomes a rumble.

  “Will our children go hungry while we do nothing?” wails a tormented father.

  “Will we roll over and die like sheep?” howls an enraged mother. This last is picked up and repeated, spreading like wildfire until the rumble becomes a roar. A host of villagers, hardened by the lethal combination of deprivation and vengeance, rend the air with their rage. They will not be put off!

  Mother Mudge tries to make herself heard, but the crowd is no longer listening to her. They are brandishing their weapons in fury! She soon sees that her rebellion has gotten out of hand, as rebellions will. A contingent of angry villagers has surrounded the dais and are doing battle with the king’s guards, the most skilled and well-trained warriors in the kingdom. At first the villagers are turned back by them, yet they so greatly outnumber the guards that the battle rages fiercely on. The guards begin to fall back, one by one, until the mob surges forward. Lan shields Princess Rose with his body, keeping her separate from the fray.

  Briar looks on, horrified, as everyone around her gets caught up in the chaos. What will the king do now? she wonders. What will she do now? Once again, the weight of anguished worry descends on her heart. Where is Jack? Does he yet live? She has done as he asked, helped Lan to make his way to Princess Rose. The threat of the curse is past. Now she is free to return to the foot of the giant beanstalk and face the truth, whatever it may be. But what of this rebellion? She knows she helped to cause it, spreading the news about the king’s secret hoard. But it has grown into something terrible, with a life of its own. The mob is dangerously out of control, and Briar realizes with growing despair that there is nothing she can do to quell it.

  All she can think of is finding Jack. But how can she leave now? She closes her eyes, bracing herself against the sea of impervious bodies, frozen by indecision, until she hears, above the clamor, a voice crying out her name. She spots Arley in the crowd, and more of the Giant Killers coming up behind him. She waves frantically. Suddenly she is terrified by the thought that he has come to bring her bad news.

  Arley pushes through to Briar’s side and tries to say something, but she cannot hear him above the din. He tries again, blasting in her ear, “The giant is dead! The giant is dead!” Briar drops her head in her hands and begins to sob with relief. At last, at long last, everything that every child in the village has hoped for, planned for, fought for, for the past seven years of their lives has come to pass. The giant is dead. Never again will they suffer his depredations. Never again will he steal and kill and maim. Never again will they have to give up their crops and rebuild the castle wall and bury their dead. The long night is over, and Jack ended it. But at what price?

   Chapter Six

  BRIAR PULLS HERSELF TOGETHER and faces Arley and the other Giant Killers, and she calls out one question, “What about Jack?” Arley looks away, then shouts next to her ear. “We don’t know! He must have fallen when the beanstalk came down. Everyone is out scouring the countryside, looking for him!” Briar nods. At least it is not the worst news. Not yet. As the crowd grows wilder, she realizes that she now has the one thing thatwill distract them, if only she can get their attention.

  “Help me get to the dais!” she calls to Arley and the Giant Killers, and they form a circle around her, pushing and shoving people out of their way. Finally, they reach the dais, where the villagers have surrounded the king. They hold him at attention while Mother Mudge shouts out their demands to him.

  “You must do away with the Giant Tax! We cannot bear it! And the sick must be taken care of!” she yells. “And the widows and the orphans too! And you must open up your secret stores of food and treasure and distribute them among your people!”

  The king is panic-stricken. All his greedy double-dealing has caught up with him. He wants to know how she knows about his secret hoard, but he dares not ask. As to the people’s demands, he looks out at the angry crowd and knows that he has no choice but to agree.

  * * *

  Briar, glancing around, spots the bugler shoved up against the wall, his horn by his side. She manages to inch closer to him and finally reaches out and snatches his horn away. Before he can react, she puts it to her lips and blows a mighty blast. She keeps on blowing as she approaches Mother Mudge and the cadre of villagers surrounding the king and queen. The villagers fall silent. Most of them know and trust Briar from the years she has spent assisting the sick and the most unfortunate among them, and they are willing to listen to what she has to say. Finally, she lowers the horn and shouts simply, “The giant is dead! Jack defeated the giant!”

  This is met with a silence so stark that the people hear their own hearts beating. It lasts only a moment, and then the crowd erupts in wild jubilation. Weapons are dropped and the king is released as people embrace one another and weep with joy. The musicians start up a triumphant tune. Hats are thrown in the air. Dancing breaks out. The people cannot contain their glee. On and on goes the celebration while Briar watches, her exultation warring with her sorrow.

  “If only Jack could see this,” she whispers, but no one hears her amid the revelry.

  Just then the crowd opens near the main door to admit a throng of children and youths. Briar can see Bridget, Dudley and Jarrett, Bertha and Quentin, Maddox and Emma and Marian, and scores of others, and they are glowing! Exultant! Some of their parents recognize them and call out to them, but the young people are oblivious, all their attention centered on the progress of one figure, borne up on the shoulders of the tallest youths, a laurel wreath around his head.

  “Jack!” screams Briar, leaping off the dais and running toward him. The crowd parts to let her through, and there he is, pale but triumphant. His mates set him down gently, and he stands wobbling on a makeshift crutch, simply overcome with the joy of being alive—against all the odds—and seeing his true love coming toward him. She throws her arms around him, and a cheer goes up from all the Giant Killers as they close in around the two, shielding them while they embrace.

  “Jack! My Jack!” cries Mother Mudge, turning away from the king to call out lovingly to her son, all else forgotten for the moment. Finally, Jack and Briar part, and Briar leads him up to the dais, where the king actually steps forward to meet him. Despite the king’s recent humiliation, Briar gives a curtsy, and Jack bows before him, as best he can with his injured leg.

  “Your Majesty.” Briar speaks up so that everyone can hear. “I present Jack Mudge, who risked his life to lure the giant to his death.”

  Jack turns and signals several of the Giant Killers to come forward. One is carrying the singing harp, one is carrying the hen that lays golden eggs, and two are struggling to carry large, heavy bags. They set the bags down in front of the king and open them so that he can see that they are filled with glittering gold and jewels. King Warrick’s eyes light up. He is flabbergasted. Wealth beyond measure has been recovered, and that speaks more loudly than any words, proving to him as nothing else could that the lad has indeed killed the giant.

  He looks Jack up and down and says, “But how can this be? The giant killed by one scrawny peasant? Speak up, lad!”

  “I didn’t do it alone,” Jack says. “It took all of us, all the village children. We formed a secret society, the Giant Killers. We’ve been planning for this for years.”

  “It was Jack’s plan,” Briar adds. “But all of us helped.”

  “That’s my Jack!” says Mother Mudge to the king. “He did it! He defeated the giant!”

  Jack silences her with a look that clearly says Not now, Mother!

  “Four years ago I followed the giant up the mount
ain and onto the clouds to see where he lived,” he tells the king. “I found the giant’s house sitting on the clouds, but I barely escaped with my life. I dared not go back unless I had some means of quick escape. Four long years went by before I found the way—a magic beanstalk that climbed up to the giant’s house. Then yesterday I climbed the beanstalk, and Lady Briar did too. Lady Briar rescued Lan from the dungeon, and the giant’s woman gave us back some of the treasure. She said stolen treasure is bad luck. There’s more there, and I’m sure she’d give it to us if we went back up the mountain.”

  “But how did you defeat the giant?” King Warrick asks, irritated—in spite of the near miracle—that this boy could accomplish what he, the king, and all the other adults could not.

  “It was the beanstalk that gave me the idea,” said Jack. “I had the thought that if I could make the giant chase me down the beanstalk, the Giant Killers could chop the beanstalk down and he’d fall to his death. And that’s what happened.”

  “But where were you, if he was chasing you down? Why didn’t you fall?”

  “I did fall, but the giant had me in his hand. He dropped me just as he crashed, but I landed on his stomach. I bounced off and hurt my leg when I landed. But I’m alive!” Jack reports joyously.

  King Warrick pauses, taking this in. “And you say there’s more treasure up there? That the giant’s woman doesn’t want it?”

  “That’s right, Your Highness. Now it can be returned to the people!”

  The king contemplates the bags of treasure for a moment and realizes that the giant is really dead and will never come back, stealing and demanding and destroying. There will be plenty for everyone. His kingdom has been saved! He raises his head and looks out at the crowd of his subjects, driven here by hunger and desperation. Finally, he looks into the eyes of the young Giant Killers, and moved by the bright hope on their faces, he shouts, “The Giant Tax is no more! And the sick shall be taken care of and so will the widows and orphans!”