Favorite Folktales From Around the World

by Jane Yolen

  Swiftly on sped Baiame, making short cuts from big hole to big hole, and his track is still marked by the morulas, or pebbly ridges, that stretch down the Narran, pointing in towards the deep holes.

  Every hole as he came to it he found dry, until at last he reached the end of the Narran; the hole there was still quite wet and muddy. Then he knew he was near his enemies, and soon he saw them.

  He managed to get, unseen, a little way ahead of the Kurrias. He hid himself behind a big dheal tree. As the Kurrias came near they separated, one turning to go in another direction. Quickly Baiame hurled one spear after another, wounding both Kurrias, who writhed with pain and lashed their tails furiously, making great hollows in the ground, which the water they had brought with them quickly filled. Thinking they might again escape him, Baiame drove them from the water with his spears, and then, at close quarters, he killed them with his woggaras.

  And ever afterwards, at floodtime, the Narran flowed into this hollow which the Kurrias in their writhings had made.

  When Baiame saw that the Kurrias were quite dead, he cut them open and took out the bodies of his wives. They were covered with wet slime and seemed quite lifeless, but he carried them and laid them on two nests of red ants. Then he sat down at some little distance and watched them. The ants quickly covered the bodies, cleaned them rapidly of the wet slime, and soon Baiame noticed the muscles of the girls twitching.

  “Ah,” he said, “there is life, they feel the sting of the ants.”

  Almost as he spoke came a sound as a thunderclap, but the sound seemed to come from the ears of the girls. And as the echo was dying away, slowly the girls rose to their feet. For a moment they stood apart, a dazed expression on their faces. Then they clung together, shaking as if stricken with a deadly fear. But Baiame came to them and explained how they had been rescued from the Kurrias by him. He bade them to beware of ever bathing in the deep holes of the Narran, lest such holes be the haunt of Kurrias.

  Then he bade them look at the water now at Boogira, and said, “Soon will the black swans find their way here, the pelicans and the ducks; where there was dry land and stones in the past, in the future there will be water and waterfowl. From henceforth, when the Narran runs it will run into this hole, and by the spreading of its waters will a big lake be made.”

  And what Baiame said has come to pass, as the Narran Lake shows, with its large sheet of water, spreading for miles, the home of thousands of wildfowl.

  THE FLYING HEAD

  American Indian (Iroquois)

  In days long past, evil monsters and spirits preyed upon humans. As long as the sun was shining, the monsters hid unseen in deep caves, but on stormy nights they came out of their dens and prowled the earth. The most terrible of all was the great Flying Head. Though only a scowling, snarling head without a body, it was four times as tall as the tallest man. Its skin was so thick and matted with hair that no weapon could penetrate it. Two huge bird wings grew from either side of its cheeks, and with them it could soar into the sky or dive down, floating, like a buzzard. Instead of teeth, the Flying Head had a mouth full of huge, piercing fangs with which it seized and devoured its prey. And everything was prey to this monster, every living being, including people.

  One dark night a young woman alone with her baby was sitting in a long house. Everybody had fled and hidden, because someone had seen the great Flying Head darting among the treetops of the forest. The young mother had not run away because, as she said to herself, “Someone must make a stand against this monster. It might as well be me.” So she sat by the hearth, building a big fire, heating in the flames a number of large, red-hot, glowing stones.

  She sat waiting and watching, until suddenly the Flying Head appeared in the door. Grinning horribly, it looked into the longhouse, but she pretended not to see it and acted as if she were cooking a meal. She made believe that she was eating some of the red-hot rocks, picking them up with a forked stick and seeming to put them into her mouth. (In reality she passed them behind her face and dropped them on the ground.) All the while she was smacking her lips, exclaiming, “Ah, how good this is! What wonderful food! Never has anyone feasted on meat like this!”

  Hearing her, the monster could not restrain itself. It thrust its head deep inside the lodge, opened its jaws wide, and seized and swallowed in one mighty gulp the whole heap of glowing, hissing rocks. As soon as it had swallowed, the monster uttered a terrible cry which echoed throughout the land. With wings flapping the great Flying Head fled screaming, screaming, screaming over mountains, streams, and forest, screaming so that the biggest trees were shaking, screaming until the earth trembled, screaming until the leaves fell from the branches. At last the screams were fading away in the distance, fading, fading, until at last they could no longer be heard. Then the people everywhere could take their hands from their ears and breathe safely. After that the Flying Head was never seen again, and nobody knows what became of it.

  THE STORY OF THE YOUTH WHO WENT FORTH TO LEARN WHAT FEAR WAS

  Germany

  A certain father had two sons, the elder of whom was smart and sensible, and could do everything; but the younger was stupid and could neither learn nor understand anything, and when people saw him they said, “There’s a fellow who will give his father some trouble!” When anything had to be done, it was always the elder who was forced to do it; but if his father bade him fetch anything when it was late, or in the nighttime, and the way led through the churchyard, or any other dismal place, he answered, “Oh, no, Father, I’ll not go there, it makes me shudder!” for he was afraid. Or when stories were told by the fire at night which made the flesh creep, the listeners sometimes said, “Oh, it makes us shudder!” The younger sat in a corner and listened with the rest of them, and could not imagine what they could mean. “They are always saying, ‘It makes me shudder, it makes me shudder!’ It does not make me shudder,” thought he. “That, too, must be an art of which I understand nothing!”

  Now it came to pass that his father said to him one day, “Hearken to me, you fellow in the corner there, you are growing tall and strong, and you too must learn something by which you can earn your bread. Look how your brother works, but you do not even earn your salt.”

  “Well, Father,” he replied, “I am quite willing to learn something—indeed, if it could but be managed, I should like to learn how to shudder. I don’t understand that at all yet.”

  The elder brother smiled when he heard that, and thought to himself, “Good God, what a blockhead that brother of mine is! He will never be good for anything as long as he lives! He who wants to be a sickle must bend himself betimes.”

  The father sighed, and answered him, “You shall soon learn what it is to shudder, but you will not earn your bread by that.”

  Soon after this the sexton came to the house on a visit, and the father bewailed his trouble, and told him how his younger son was so backward in every respect that he knew nothing and learned nothing. “Just think,” said he, “when I asked him how he was going to earn his bread, he actually wanted to learn to shudder.”

  “If that be all,” replied the sexton, “he can learn that with me. Send him to me, and I will soon polish him.”

  The father was glad to do it, for he thought, “It will train boy a little.” The sexton therefore took the boy into his house, and he had to ring the church bell. After a day or two, the sexton awoke him at midnight, and bade him arise and go up into the church tower and ring the bell. “You shall soon learn what shuddering is,” thought he, and secretly went there before him; and when the boy was at the top of the tower and turned round, and was just going to take hold of the bell rope, he saw a white figure standing on the stairs opposite the sounding hole.

  “Who is there?” cried he, but the figure made no reply, and did not move or stir. “Give an answer,” cried the boy, “or take yourself off. You have no business here at night.”

  The sexton, however, remained standing motionless so that the boy might think he was
a ghost.

  The boy cried a second time, “What do you want here?—speak if you are an honest fellow, or I will throw you down the steps!”

  The sexton thought, “He can’t mean to be as bad as his words,” uttered no sound, and stood as if he were made of stone. Then the boy called to him for the third time, and as that was also to no purpose, he ran against him and pushed the ghost down the stairs, so that it fell down ten steps and remained lying there in a corner. Thereupon he rang the bell, went home, and without saying a word went to bed, and fell asleep.

  The sexton’s wife waited a long time for her husband, but he did not come back. At length she became uneasy, and wakened the boy, and asked, “Do you not know where my husband is? He climbed up the tower before you did.”

  “No, I don’t know,” replied the boy, “but someone was standing by the sounding hole on the other side of the steps, and as he would neither give an answer nor go away, I took him for a scoundrel and threw him downstairs. Just go there, and you will see if it was he. I should be sorry if it were.” The woman ran away and found her husband, who was lying moaning in the corner, and had broken his leg.

  She carried him down, and then with loud screams she hastened to the boy’s father. “Your boy,” cried she, “has been the cause of a great misfortune! He has thrown my husband down the steps so that he broke his leg. Take the good-for-nothing fellow out of our house.”

  The father was terrified, and ran thither and scolded the boy. “What wicked tricks are these?” said he, “the Devil must have put them into your head.”

  “Father,” he replied, “do listen to me. I am quite innocent. He was standing there by night like one intent on doing evil. I did not know who it was, and I entreated him three times either to speak or to go away.”

  “Ah,” said the father, “I have nothing but unhappiness with you. Go out of my sight. I will see you no more.”

  “Yes, Father, right willingly, wait only until it is day. Then will I go forth and learn how to shudder, and then I shall, at any rate, understand one art which will support me.”

  “Learn what you will,” spoke the father, “it is all the same to me. Here are fifty talers for you. Take these and go into the wide world, and tell no one from whence you come, and who is your father, for I have reason to be ashamed of you.”

  “Yes, Father, it shall be as you will. If you desire nothing more than that, I can easily keep it in mind.”

  When day dawned, therefore, the boy put his fifty talers into his pocket, and went forth on the great highway, and continually said to himself, “If I could but shudder! If I could but shudder!”

  Then a man approached who heard this conversation which the youth was holding with himself and when they had walked a little farther to where they could see the gallows, the man said to him, “Look, there is the tree where seven men have married the rope-maker’s daughter, and are now learning how to fly. Sit down beneath it, and wait till night comes, and you will soon learn how to shudder.”

  “If that is all that is wanted,” answered the youth, “it is easily done; but if I learn how to shudder as fast as that, you shall have my fifty talers. Just come back to me early in the morning.” Then the youth went to the gallows, sat down beneath it, and waited till evening came. And as he was cold, he lighted himself a fire, but at midnight the wind blew so sharply that in spite of his fire, he could not get warm. And as the wind knocked the hanged men against each other, and they moved backwards and forwards, he thought to himself, “If you shiver below by the fire, how those up above must freeze and suffer!” And as he felt pity for them, he raised the ladder and climbed up, unbound one of them after the other, and brought down all seven. Then he stoked the fire, blew it, and set them all round it to warm themselves.

  But they sat there and did not stir, and the fire caught their clothes. So he said, “Take care, or I will hang you up again.” The dead men, however, did not hear, but were quite silent, and let their rags go on burning. At this he grew angry, and said, “If you will not take care, I cannot help you, I will not be burned with you,” and he hung them up again each in his turn! Then he sat down by his fire and fell asleep.

  The next morning the man came to him and wanted to have the fifty talers, and said, “Well, do you know how to shudder?”

  “No,” answered he, “how should I know? Those fellows up there did not open their mouths, and were so stupid that they let the few old rags which they had on their bodies get burnt.”

  Then the man saw that he would not get the fifty talers that day, and went away saying, “Such a youth has never come my way before.”

  The youth likewise went his way, and once more began to mutter to himself: “Ah, if I could but shudder! Ah, if I could but shudder!”

  A wagoner who was striding behind him heard this and asked, “Who are you?”

  “I don’t know,” answered the youth.

  Then the wagoner asked, “From whence do you come?”

  “I know not.”

  “Who is your father?”

  “That I may not tell you.”

  “What is it that you are always muttering between your teeth?”

  “Ah,” replied the youth, “I do so wish I could shudder, but no one can teach me how.”

  “Enough of your foolish chatter,” said the wagoner. “Come, go with me, I will see about a place for you.”

  The youth went with the wagoner, and in the evening they arrived at an inn where they wished to pass the night. Then at the entrance of the parlor the youth again said quite loudly, ’If I could but shudder! If I could but shudder!”

  The host, who heard this, laughed and said, “If that is your desire, there ought to be a good opportunity for you here.”

  “Ah, be silent,” and the hostess. “So many prying persons have already lost their lives, it would be a pity and a shame if such beautiful eyes as these should never see the daylight again.”

  But the youth said, “However difficult it may be, I will learn it. For this purpose indeed have I journeyed forth.” He let the host have no rest, until the latter told him that not far from thence stood a haunted castle where any one could very easily learn what shuddering was, if he would but watch in it for three nights. The king had promised that he who would venture should have his daughter to wife, and she was the most beautiful maiden the sun shone on. Likewise in the castle lay great treasures, which were guarded by evil spirits, and these treasures would then be freed, and would make a poor man rich enough. Already many men had gone into the castle, but as yet none had come out again. Then the youth went next morning to the king, and said, “If it be allowed, I will willingly watch three nights in the haunted castle.”

  The king looked at him, and as the youth pleased him, he said, “You may ask for three things to take into the castle with you, but they must be things without life.”

  Then he answered, “Then I ask for a fire, a turning lathe, and a cutting board with a knife.”

  The king had these things carried into the castle for him during the day. When night was drawing near, the youth went up and made himself a bright fire in one of the rooms, placed the cutting board and knife beside it, and seated himself by the turning lathe. “Ah, if I could but shudder!” said he, “but I shall not learn it here either.”

  Towards midnight he was about to poke his fire, and as he was blowing it, something cried suddenly from one corner, “Au, miau! how cold we are!”

  “You fools!” cried he, “what are you crying about? If you are cold, come and take a seat by the fire and warm yourselves.” And when he had said that, two great black cats came with one tremendous leap and sat down on each side of him, and looked savagely at him with their fiery eyes. After a short time, when they had warmed themselves, they said, “Comrade, shall we have a game of cards?”

  “Why not?” he replied, “but just show me your paws.” Then they stretched out their claws. “Oh,” said he, “what long nails you have! Wait, I must first cut them for you.” Thereupo
n he seized them by the throats, put them on the cutting board and screwed their feet fast. “I have looked at your fingers,” said he, “and my fancy for card-playing has gone,” and he struck them dead and threw them out into the water.

  But when he had made away with these two, and was about to sit down again by his fire, out from every hole and corner came black cats and black dogs with red-hot chains, and more and more of them came until he could no longer move, and they yelled horribly, and got on his fire, pulled it to pieces, and tried to put it out. He watched them for a while quietly, but at last when they were going too far, he seized his cutting knife, and cried, “Away with you, vermin,” and began to cut them down. Some of them ran away, the others he killed, and threw out into the fishpond.

  When he came back he fanned the embers of his fire again and warmed himself. And as he thus sat, his eyes would keep open no longer, and he felt a desire to sleep. Then he looked round and saw a great bed in the corner. “That is the very thing for me,” said he, and got into it. When he was just going to shut his eyes, however, the bed began to move of its own accord, and went over the whole of the castle. “That’s right,” said he, “but go faster.” Then the bed rolled on as if six horses were harnessed to it, up and down, over thresholds and stairs, but suddenly hop, hop, it turned over upside down, and lay on him like a mountain. But he threw quilts and pillows up in the air, got out and said, “Now anyone who likes may drive,” and lay down by his fire, and slept till it was day.

  In the morning the king came, and when he saw him lying there on the ground, he thought the evil spirits had killed him and he was dead. Then said he, “After all it is a pity—for so handsome a man.”

  The youth heard it, got up, and said, “It has not come to that yet.”