Faery Tales

by Carol Ann Duffy

  The apostle thanked him and hurried on his way; but further along the road he sat down again disguised as a different beggar. When Brother Scamp came along, he begged for a gift as before. Brother Scamp spoke as he had earlier and again gave him a piece of bread and a shilling. St Peter thanked him and went on, but for the third time sat down in Brother Scamp’s path disguised as a beggar. He begged again. Brother Scamp spoke as before and again gave him a quarter of bread and a shilling. St Peter thanked him.

  Brother Scamp, with only one shilling and the last morsel of bread left, went on to an inn, where he ate the bread and ordered a shilling’s worth of ale. When he had finished, he set off once more and soon met St Peter, this time dressed up as a discharged soldier like himself.

  ‘Good day, comrade. Can you spare a bit of bread and a shilling for some beer?’

  ‘Where would I find them?’ said Brother Scamp. ‘I’ve been discharged and all the army gave me was a loaf of ammunition-bread and four shillings. I met three beggars on the road and I gave each of them a quarter of bread and a shilling. I ate the last quarter of bread at an inn and spent the last shilling on ale. So now my pockets are empty. If you’re in the same boat, then let us go begging together.’

  St Peter said, ‘There’s no need to do that. I know a bit about healing. I’ll soon earn as much as I need from that.’

  ‘Well,’ said Brother Scamp, ‘I know nothing at all about that, so I’d better go begging on my own.’

  ‘Just come along with me,’ said St Peter, ‘and if I make any money at it you can have half.’

  ‘Fair play,’ said Brother Scamp, and the two soldiers went on their way together.

  They soon came to a peasant’s house, inside which they heard loud sobbing and cries of lamentation. They went in. A man lay there, very sick and at death’s door, and his poor wife was bawling her lungs out. ‘Stop your weeping and wailing,’ said St Peter. ‘I will make this man well again.’ He took some ointment from his pocket and healed the man quicker than an angel’s wing. The man stood up in the best of health.

  The husband and wife were overjoyed and said, ‘How can we thank you? What can we give you to repay you?’ But St Peter wouldn’t accept any reward; and the more the peasant folk offered, the more he refused. Brother Scamp nudged St Peter. ‘Take something, for God’s sake. We need it!’ Finally, the woman brought in a lamb and told St Peter that he really must take it. But St Peter didn’t want to. Then Brother Scamp gave him a poke and said, ‘Take it, take it. We need it.’ At last St Peter said, ‘All right, I’ll accept it. But I won’t carry it. If you want it so much, then you can carry it.’ ‘Fair play,’ said Brother Scamp, and hoisted the lamb onto his shoulder.

  They journeyed on together and came to a forest. By now, Brother Scamp was beginning to find the lamb very heavy, and he was famished as well. So he said to his companion, ‘Look, this is a good spot. Let’s stop and cook the lamb and eat it.’ ‘If you like,’ said St Peter, ‘but I don’t know anything about cooking. If you want to cook, there’s a pot. I shall go for a walk until it’s ready. But you mustn’t start eating until I return. I will come back at the right time.’ ‘Off you pop,’ said Brother Scamp, ‘I’m a nifty hand at cooking. Just leave everything to me.’

  When St Peter had gone, Brother Scamp butchered the lamb, lit the fire, threw the meat into the pot and cooked it. After a while, the meat was ready, but St Peter still hadn’t returned. Brother Scamp removed the meat from the pot, cut it up, and found the heart. ‘That’s supposed to be the best part,’ he thought to himself. He tasted a little bit, then a little bit more, and a little bit more, and soon he had eaten it all up. Eventually, St Peter came back and said, ‘You can eat the whole lamb yourself. Just give me the heart.’

  Brother Scamp took a knife and fork and pretended to look for the heart. He poked and prodded anxiously among the flesh and finally gave up. ‘There isn’t any heart,’ he said.

  ‘How is that possible?’ said St Peter.

  ‘Search me,’ said Brother Scamp. ‘But hang on a minute! What fools we are! Everyone knows that a lamb hasn’t got a heart.’ ‘Let’s go then. If there’s no heart, I don’t want any lamb. You can have it all for yourself.’

  ‘What I can’t eat now, I’ll take away in my knapsack,’ said Brother Scamp. He ate up half the lamb and packed the rest into his knapsack.

  They went on their way and after a while St Peter arranged for a great stream of water to block their path. They had to get across it and St Peter said, ‘You go first.’ But Brother Scamp said, ‘No, you go first, comrade.’ And he thought, ‘If the water proves too deep for him, I can stay behind.’

  St Peter waded across and the water only came up to his knees. So Brother Scamp followed him, but the water got deeper and deeper until it was up to his neck. Then he cried out, ‘Brother! Help me!’

  ‘Confess you ate the lamb’s heart!’

  ‘No! I didn’t eat it!’

  The water grew even deeper until it was up to his mouth. Brother Scamp cried out again, ‘Brother! Help me!’

  ‘Admit you ate the lamb’s heart!’

  ‘No! I didn’t eat it!’

  But St Peter would not let the man drown, so he made the water go down and helped him across.

  They took to the road again and came to a kingdom where they heard that the King’s daughter was ill and on the verge of death. The soldier turned to St Peter. ‘Now then, Brother! This looks like just the thing for us. If we can cure her, we’ll be sorted for life!’ St Peter agreed, but walked too slowly for Brother Scamp’s liking. ‘Come on, Brother, hurry up. We want to get there before it’s too late.’ But the more Brother Scamp pushed and prodded, the slower St Peter went; and before long they heard that the Princess had died.

  ‘I knew it!’ said Brother Scamp. ‘This is what comes of your dawdling along.’

  ‘Hold your tongue,’ said St Peter. ‘I don’t just heal sick people. I can make dead people live again.’

  ‘Well, if that’s the case,’ said Brother Scamp, ‘make sure we get a decent reward. Ask for half the kingdom at least.’

  They went to the royal palace where everyone was distraught with grief. St Peter went straight to the King and vowed to him that he would bring his daughter back to life. He was taken to her room and said, ‘Bring me a cauldron of water.’

  They brought the water and he told everyone to leave the room except for Brother Scamp. St Peter cut off the dead girl’s limbs and tossed them into the water. He made a fire under the cauldron and boiled them. When all the flesh had fallen off, he took the clean white bones out of the water, placed them on a table, and arranged them in the correct order. When he’d done all this to his satisfaction, he stepped forward and said three times, ‘In the name of the Holy Trinity, dead Princess, stand up and live again.’

  At the third time, the girl stood up, warm and healthy and beautiful. The King was shaking with joy and gratitude and said to St Peter, ‘Name your reward. Even if you ask for half my kingdom you shall have it.’ But St Peter replied, ‘I want nothing.’

  ‘Oh, you cabbage-head!’ thought Brother Scamp. He jabbed his comrade in the ribs and said, ‘Don’t be so stupid. You might not want a reward, but I do.’ St Peter still wanted nothing, but the King saw that the other man felt quite the opposite and ordered his treasurer to fill Brother Scamp’s knapsack with gold.

  Again they went on their way. When they came to a forest, St Peter said to Brother Scamp, ‘Now we’ll share out the gold.’ ‘Fair play.’ St Peter divided the gold into three parts. Brother Scamp thought to himself, ‘What nonsense has he got into his head now? Why divide the gold into three when there’s only two of us?’

  St Peter spoke. ‘I’ve split the gold perfectly. One part for me, one for you, and one for whoever ate the lamb’s heart.’ ‘That was me!’ said Brother Scamp, and scooped up the gold as fast as a double-wink. ‘I give you my word.’

  ‘How is that possible,’ said St Peter, ‘when we know that a la
mb has no heart?’

  ‘What are you on about, Brother? Everyone knows a lamb has a heart just like any other animal. Why on earth shouldn’t it?’

  ‘Very well,’ said St Peter, ‘keep the gold for yourself. I have had enough of your company and I’m going on by myself.’

  ‘If that’s what you want then fair play, Brother,’ the soldier said. ‘Goodbye.’

  So St Peter took a different road and Brother Scamp thought, ‘I’m glad to see the back of him. What a strange individual he turned out to be.’ He now had plenty of money, but he didn’t know how to use it sensibly. He squandered some, gave some away, and after a while he was penniless once more. He came to a land where he was told that the King’s daughter had died. He thought to himself, ‘Hang about! There might be something in this for me. I’ll bring her back to life and make sure I get a decent reward.’ So he went straight to the King and offered to return his daughter from the dead. The King had heard that there was a discharged soldier going around bringing the dead back to life. He thought that Brother Scamp might be this man, but he wasn’t certain. So he asked the advice of his counsellor, who said that, since his daughter was dead, he had nothing to lose.

  Brother Scamp requested a cauldron of water and ordered everyone from the room. Then he severed the dead girl’s limbs, tossed them into the water, lit a fire, exactly as he had seen St Peter do. The water bubbled up. When the flesh fell away from the bones, he took them out and laid them on the table; but he had no idea of the correct order and got the beautiful white bones all jumbled up. Nevertheless, he stepped up to the table and cried, ‘In the name of the Holy Trinity, rise from the dead.’ He said it three times but not a bone budged. He said it three times more, but it was useless, and he shouted, ‘Blasted girl! Get up off that table or I’ll half-kill you!’

  The words had no sooner left his mouth than St Peter came in through the window, once again disguised as a discharged soldier.

  ‘Blasphemous, godless man!’ he said. ‘What are you doing? How can the poor girl rise again when you’ve got her bones in such a mess!’ ‘I’ve done the best I could, Brother,’ said Brother Scamp. ‘I’ll help you out just this once,’ said St Peter, ‘but if you ever try anything like this again, Heaven help you. Furthermore, you are neither to demand nor accept any reward at all from the King.’

  Then St Peter arranged the bones in the right order and said three times, ‘In the name of the Holy Trinity, rise from the dead.’ The King’s daughter breathed and arose, as healthy and beautiful as she ever was, and St Peter went out through the window. Brother Scamp was pleased things had worked out so well, but annoyed at not being allowed to ask for his reward.

  ‘That bloke’s not the full shilling,’ he thought. ‘What he gives with one hand he takes away with the other. It’s weird!’

  The King offered Brother Scamp any reward he wanted. He refused, as he’d been ordered to, but with hints, winks, nudges, shuffles and shrugs, he got the King to fill his knapsack with gold and off he went.

  St Peter was waiting at the palace gate. ‘Just look at you! Didn’t I forbid you to accept anything? And yet out you march as bold as brass with your knapsack bulging with gold.’

  ‘I can’t help it if they forced it on me,’ said Brother Scamp.

  ‘You’d better not try this sort of thing again or you’ll wish you hadn’t.’

  ‘Have no fear on that score, Brother. Why should I bother to boil bones when I’m loaded with gold?’

  ‘I can imagine how long your gold will last you,’ said St Peter. ‘But to keep you from meddling in forbidden ways again, I’ll grant you the power to wish anything you please into your knapsack. Now goodbye to you. You will not see me again.’

  ‘Goodbye,’ said Brother Scamp and thought, ‘Good riddance more like, you peculiar person. I shan’t be running to catch up with you!’ And he gave no more thought to the magical power of his knapsack.

  Brother Scamp travelled on with his gold, and squandered and wasted it the same as before. When he only had four shillings left, he came to an inn. ‘I might as well spend them,’ he thought, and ordered up three shillings’ worth of wine and one of bread. He sat drinking and the smell of roast goose filled his nostrils. When he looked around he saw two geese that the innkeeper was cooking in the oven. Suddenly he remembered that his companion had told him he could wish anything he pleased into his knapsack. ‘Get in!’ he thought. ‘Let’s see if it works with the geese.’ He went outside and said, ‘I wish those two geese were out of the oven and in my knapsack!’ After saying the words, he unbuckled the knapsack, looked in, and there they were. ‘This couldn’t be better!’ he said. ‘I’m a made man!’

  He sat down in a meadow and took out the geese. As he was busily eating, two journeymen came along and looked hungrily at the goose that hadn’t been touched yet. Brother Scamp thought to himself, ‘One goose is plenty for me,’ and called over the two journeymen. ‘Here, take this goose and wish me well as you eat it.’ They thanked him, went into the inn, ordered a flask of wine and a loaf of bread, took out Brother Scamp’s goose and began to eat. The innkeeper’s wife had been watching them and said to her husband, ‘That pair over there are eating a goose. Go and check it’s not one of ours out of the oven.’

  He went and looked and the oven was worse than gooseless. ‘Hoy, you thieves! You think you’re getting that goose pretty cheap, don’t you? Pay up at once or I’ll stripe your skins with a stick.’ ‘We’re not thieves,’ they protested. ‘A discharged soldier gave us the goose out there in the meadow.’

  ‘Don’t try and pull the wool over my eyes,’ said the innkeeper. ‘There was a soldier here but he went out the door empty-handed. I saw him myself. You’re the thieves and you’d better pay up.’ But they couldn’t pay, so he seized his stick and swiped them out of the inn.

  Brother Scamp continued on his way and came to a place where there was a magnificent castle, and not far from it a miserable inn. He went to the inn and asked for a bed for the night, but the innkeeper refused him, saying, ‘There is no room. The house is full of noblemen.’ Brother Scamp said, ‘That’s odd. Why would they choose this place instead of that splendid castle?’ ‘Well, you see,’ said the innkeeper, ‘it’s not easy to spend a night in that castle. Some have tried, but no one has ever come out alive.’

  ‘If others have tried, so will I,’ said Brother Scamp.

  ‘Don’t even think of it,’ said mine host. ‘It will be the end of you.’

  But Brother Scamp insisted. ‘Don’t worry about me. Just give me the keys and something to eat and drink.’

  So the man gave him the keys and some food and wine and Brother Scamp went into the castle and enjoyed his meal. After a while, he felt sleepy and lay down on the floor because there was no bed. He soon fell fast asleep, but in the middle of the night he was awakened by a terrifying noise. When he opened his eyes, he saw nine ugly devils dancing round him in a circle. ‘Dance as much as you like,’ said Brother Scamp, ‘but stay away from me.’ The devils came closer and closer and nearly stepped on his face with their hideous feet.

  ‘Stop it, you fiends!’ he cried, but their frenzy got worse. Brother Scamp became very angry and shouted, ‘Quiet, I said!’ He grabbed a table leg and set about them with it, but nine devils were too many for one soldier. While he was hitting the one in front of him, the ones behind him grabbed his hair and yanked fiercely. ‘Stinking devils! This is too much. But now I’ll show you something. All nine of you, into my knapsack!’ Wheesh! In they all went. He buckled the knapsack, flung it into a corner, and at last everything was still. Brother Scamp lay down again and slept until morning. The innkeeper and the nobleman who owned the castle arrived to see what had happened to him. They were astonished to find him alive and well and asked, ‘Didn’t the ghosts harm you?’

  ‘How could they harm me? I’ve got them all in my knapsack. Now you can live in your castle again. The ghosts won’t bother you any more.’

  The nobleman thanked h
im, rewarded him generously and begged him to stay in his service and he would provide for him till death. But Brother Scamp said, ‘No, I’m used to wandering about. I’ll just get on my way.’

  Back on the road, Brother Scamp stopped at a smithy, put the knapsack full of devils on the anvil, and asked the blacksmith and his apprentices to batter it with all their might. The devils screamed dreadfully, and when he opened the knapsack eight were dead, but one, who had been in a crease, was still alive. That one scuttled away and went to Hell.

  After this, Brother Scamp travelled about for a long time, and if anyone knows what he got up to, they’ll have a long tale to tell. Finally, he grew old and his thoughts turned to death; so he went to a hermit who was respected as a holy man and said, ‘I’m tired of knocking about, and now I want to see about getting into the Kingdom of Heaven.’ The hermit replied, ‘There are two roads. One is broad and pleasant and leads to Hell. The other is narrow and rough and leads to Heaven.’ Brother Scamp thought, ‘I’d be daft to take the rough and narrow way.’ Sure enough, he took the broad, pleasant way and fetched up at a big black gate.

  It was the Gate of Hell. He knocked, and the gatekeeper squinted out to see who was there. When he saw Brother Scamp, he nearly leapt out of his skin, for he just happened to be the ninth devil in the knapsack who’d escaped with only a black eye. Fast as a rat, he slammed, locked and bolted the gate, and fled to the Head Devil.

  ‘There’s a man outside with a knapsack,’ he said. ‘He wants to come in, but for Hell’s sake don’t let him, or he’ll wish all Hell into his knapsack. He had me in it once, and what a terrible battering I got!’

  Brother Scamp was told he couldn’t come in and should clear off. ‘If they won’t give me a welcome here,’ he thought, ‘I’ll see if there’s room for me in Heaven. I’ve got to stay somewhere.’