Bold Tales of Brave-Hearted Boys

by Susannah McFarlane

  BOLD:

  TYPICALLY DESCRIBES ONE WHO IS WILLING TO TAKE RISKS; WHO IS BRAVE IN HEART AS WELL AS DEED

  CONTENTS

  PREFACE

  JACK AND THE BEANSTALK

  illustrated by Brenton McKenna

  HANSEL AND GRETEL

  illustrated by Simon Howe

  THE EMPEROR’S NEW CLOTHES

  illustrated by Matt Huynh

  PRINCE LEO AND THE SLEEPING PRINCESS

  illustrated by Louie Joyce

  For Edvard, the bravest, most bold-hearted boy I know, with love and admiration

  ONCE UPON A TIME, in a land far away

  (yet not so different from today),

  four young boys must show their best

  to overcome an epic test.

  Battles are fought and dragons slain;

  evildoers kept from ill-gotten gain.

  Yet our heroes find, as perhaps will you,

  that it’s how as well as what you do.

  The boy who wins the battle well,

  as these tales of courage tell,

  may not be the biggest, nor play the largest part,

  but be clever, honest, and bold of heart.

  For strong is more than muscle and might:

  it’s following your heart to do what’s right.

  Then boys, no matter how young or small,

  can claim great victory and peace for all.

  JACK AND THE BEANSTALK

  1.

  ONCE UPON A TIME in the Upper Lands, high in the sky, lived a boy called Jack. Jack was a good boy, gentle and helpful. Each morning, after taking tea and toast to his mother in bed, making sure the slices were spread with just the right amount of butter and jam, Jack would set off for the woods. There he’d uproot pine trees, to be made into furniture in a nearby village called the Tablelands. For Jack, or Gentle Jack, or GJ as his mother and pretty much everyone in the villages called him, was a giant, and pulling up the tall trees was the perfect job for him.

  No one was sure why GJ was a giant, he just was—and, as it happened, his size was just what was needed for his special job. In fact, everyone in the Upper Lands had their own special job to do, needing their exact special talent.

  Each time GJ pulled up a tree in the woods, he’d take a pine seed from his large pocket and plant it in the hole left behind. Everything grew quickly in the Upper Lands, nourished by the silver rain that fell from the sky, and in just weeks a new tree would be ready to be harvested. Despite having enormous fingers, GJ was very careful to place each tiny seed in exactly the right place, spreading just the right amount of dirt over it, grinning as the first green shoots popped up immediately.

  GJ was happy in his work, and because he was also a creative boy, he liked making up little chants as he walked, pulled, and planted.

  Hey, ho, hi, hum,

  heave the trees, up they come!

  Drop the seed, wait a mo’,

  see the tree begin to grow!

  GJ stacked his trees against a huge boulder in a big clearing, one atop another. When he’d stacked fifty trees, it’d be time for his favorite part of the job: tree-snagging. GJ had developed his very own tree-snagging technique, lassoing the trees together with a long, long rope. Each time, he’d test himself by trying to do this from farther away from the stack. Now GJ could snag the pile and haul it toward him from a mile away, an amazing record for even a boy of GJ’s size.

  GJ would then haul the wood to the Tablelands, where the villagers milled it and crafted it into beautiful tables and chairs.

  “Great bundle today, big guy,” called the mayor of the Tablelands one morning as GJ arrived.

  “Thank you, sir,” replied GJ, beaming. “Oh, and here’s your egg.” He took a gleaming golden egg from his shirt pocket and handed it to the mayor.

  That was another special thing about GJ. On the day he was born, a white goose walked into his mother’s farmhouse. That would have been strange enough, but even stranger was that this goose laid golden eggs, one every day.

  “It was a day of double blessing,” GJ’s mother always said. “Precious eggs and an even more precious boy with a heart so big it needed the body of a giant to hold it!”

  And so, each day, when he delivered the wood, Jack also brought an egg. A villager would carry it off to the smelter, where it would be melted down into gold coins and shared among all who lived in the Upper Lands.

  “Thank you, GJ,” said the mayor, “and here are some coins for you and your mother.”

  As he spoke, a team of villagers arrived with a very tall ladder. GJ knelt down and they leaned the ladder against him. Then one of the villagers climbed up and handed him a bulging cloth sack.

  “There’s a bit more today so you can buy materials for your project,” she said. “And we’ve popped in one of your favorite candies. The sweet-maker spent all day spinning the sugar for you.”

  GJ’s smile grew wider as he took out a huge red-and-yellow-striped whopper-sucker all-day lollipop.

  “Thank you, everyone,” he cried. “Delicious! And that’s exactly how many coins I need to buy the metal for my Incredible Flower-Pulling Machine!”

  “Our pleasure, GJ. You deserve it,” said the mayor.

  As he walked home, GJ sucked on his lollipop and thought about the metal he’d buy in the Ironlands the next day after he’d finished work. While GJ was the perfect boy for picking trees, picking the tiny, delicate flowers his mother liked in her tea was tricky for him. The contraption he’d designed would be just the thing for that.

  That evening, over dinner, GJ told his mother about his day and his plans for the Incredible Flower-Pulling Machine. After stacking the plates in the dish-scrubbing box he’d invented, leaving the coins on the table ready for the following day, GJ helped his mother into bed, brought her a cup of tea, made sure she was comfortable, and leaned down, down, down to kiss her good night.

  “You’re a good son, GJ,” she said, kissing the top of his giant nose. “And remember, when in doubt…”

  “Do good,” said GJ.

  “Exactly,” replied his mother. “Sleep well, my giant-hearted boy.”

  GJ smiled and tiptoed out, leaving her door slightly ajar so she’d hear the beautiful lullabies their magical golden harp, a gift from the villagers, would play for them throughout the night.

  But that night, lying in his giant bed, GJ had to strain to hear his harp above the sounds of some angry voices floating up from the Lower Lands below him.

  “Foolish boy, you gave our last cow to someone for five beans? Beans? What were you thinking?” snapped a woman’s voice.

  “But, Mother,” a boy’s voice cried, “the man said they were magic! And it would have taken so long to walk the cow all the way to the market.”

  “Lazy, disobedient boy!” replied the mother. “Magic? Honestly, Jack, how could you be so stupid?”

  Another Jack? thought GJ. He may have the same name as me, but my mother and I don’t argue like that.

  Below in the Lower Lands, a door slammed and the voices finally quieted, so that GJ could hear the harp’s soothing lullaby again.

  “Thank goodness,” he murmured as his eyelids started drooping. In seconds, the giant boy was asleep and all was peaceful and calm in the Upper Lands.

  2.

  THAT NIGHT, as everyone in both lands slept, something strange was happening in the Lower Lands. Jack’s mother had thrown the beans her son had brought home out the kitchen door in disgust, slamming it shut after them. The beans had landed in an unused vegetable plot, and now a beanstalk took root and began to grow… fast.

  It grew higher than the weeds and thistles.

  It grew higher tha
n the farmhouse and all the surrounding trees.

  In fact, it grew higher than everything in the Lower Lands, and by the next morning it had grown right up through the clouds into the Upper Lands.

  But when GJ headed off to work the next morning, he knew none of this. He didn’t see the beanstalk, nor the very small boy hauling himself up it, through the swirling, misty cloud mantle.

  That small boy was the Lower Lands Jack, who now stood in the Upper Lands. In the distance, he could see a house.

  Hmmm, worth a look, thought Jack. You never know your luck. As Jack got closer to the house, he realized it was tall—very tall. A giant must live here, he thought as he reached the door. It would take at least twenty of me to even reach the keyhole! Maybe the giant has treasure!

  To Jack’s surprise, the door was open. (For there was no need to lock doors in the Upper Lands.) He went inside and found himself in a kitchen with a fireplace, a very high table, one very large low chair, and one very small high chair.

  Definitely a giant, decided Jack, climbing up a long coil of rope hanging from the high table. “My!” he cried as he stepped onto the table and spied the coins, which GJ had forgotten to take with him that morning. “Treasure! This is indeed my lucky day. And I deserve these coins. I’m sure whoever lives here doesn’t need them half as much as I do. I might even give my mother some, if she’s lucky.”

  “Is there someone out there?” came a thin voice from another room, making Jack jump with fright. It was GJ’s mother.

  Then, much to his surprise, music began to play. Jack spun around, knocking over a sugar bowl on the table, to see a golden harp by the fireplace playing music—alarmingly loud music, all by itself.

  Next, the house began to shake. “This house is enchanted!” cried Jack, and he ran across the table, leaving little boot prints in the sugar. He snatched the coins and slid back down the rope to the kitchen floor.

  The house was shaking because GJ was running toward it. He’d not gone far from home when his nose had begun to twitch—for Upper Landers had an exceptional sense of smell.

  Fee, fi, fo, fum,

  I smell the scent of a Lower Lands man.

  I will rush so I can see

  who this Lower Lander might be!

  And so GJ had run toward the smell. It wasn’t often that visitors made their way to the Upper Lands, and GJ was eager to learn how the stranger had got there. He was a little surprised, however, when he realized he was running in the direction of his own house. His surprise turned to fear when he heard his harp wailing, and he ran faster and harder, his steps now thundering on the ground.

  Jack, meanwhile, looked longingly at the golden harp by the fireplace, but he knew he had no time to lose and he dashed out the door toward the beanstalk. By the time GJ reached home, Jack was back in the Lower Lands.

  GJ rushed in the front door. He saw the overturned bowl and the tiny boot prints in the sugar on the table, and realized with consternation that the sacks of gold coins were gone. Whoever would take something that didn’t belong to them? That simply didn’t happen in the Upper Lands.

  “GJ, is that you?” came his mother’s voice.

  “Mom!” he cried, rushing into her room. “Are you all right?”

  GJ was so relieved his mother was unharmed that he burst into tears and all but forgot about the coins. His mom gave his cheek a big hug and wiped his tears away, which made GJ feel a lot better—but what on earth, they wondered, was going on?

  3.

  THE NEXT MORNING, GJ didn’t want to leave his mother, but she insisted. “You must do your work, GJ,” she said gently. “The Tablelands depend on you.”

  So GJ set off reluctantly, sad he no longer had the coins to buy iron for his machine, and worried about his mom.

  Bish, bash, bo, bum,

  I am feeling a little glum…

  GJ chanted with less than his usual vigor as he walked the path to the woods. Once he reached the woods, however, and could breathe the fresh air and hear the chirping, buzzing, busy noises of the woodland animals, GJ quickly cheered up and set to work.

  Meanwhile, down in the Lower Lands, Jack was setting off up the beanstalk again, a large empty sack on his back. He planned to steal the golden harp, for it would fetch a pretty penny at the markets. So off he went, through the cloud mantle again and into GJ’s house.

  Jack was relieved to hear snoring coming from the bedroom this time. He tiptoed toward the hearth where, as he’d hoped, he saw the harp—and, to his surprise, a goose sitting next to it.

  “Hello, my pretty,” he whispered. “I didn’t notice you last time. You look good and plump; you’ll make a nice Sunday dinner, for sure. I’ll take you, too.”

  Jack picked up the goose only to jump back in surprise and delight: there beneath it was a large golden egg.

  “Yes!” hissed Jack. “I’ll never have to work again! The giant must have hundreds of eggs and doesn’t need any more—and I most certainly do!” And he greedily stuffed the harp and the goose and the golden egg into his sack, the cloth muffling the noise of the harp.

  “The sooner I melt you into gold the better,” he said, tying up the sack. Then he threw it over his shoulder and ran out of the house toward the beanstalk.

  In the forest, GJ got the twitching feeling in his nose again.

  Fee, fi, fo, fum,

  I smell the scent of that Lower Lands man.

  GJ took off, running as fast as he could. This time, the scent led him to the very edge of the Upper Lands, where he saw the top tendrils of the beanstalk. Peering through the cloud mantle, he saw the enormous beanstalk twisting downward and could just make out a small boy far below.

  GJ wasted no time. He leaped onto the beanstalk and clambered after the boy. With his long legs, he soon caught up. He plucked the boy from the stalk.

  “Oi!” cried the boy. GJ dangled him in front of his face, studying him. “What are you doing?” yelled the boy crossly.

  “What am I doing?” asked GJ. “What are you doing? You’re Jack, aren’t you?”

  “What’s it to you?” snapped the boy. “Put me down!”

  Just then, a muffled honk came from the sack over Jack’s back, followed by a frantic-sounding harp melody. Realizing that this boy surely had stolen his coins the day before, and was now bold enough to have stolen both his family’s beautiful harp and their beloved goose, GJ began to feel very, very cross indeed. He pinched the boy a little more tightly, and Jack realized he was in no position to make demands of this giant.

  “I mean, I’m sorry, Mr. Giant,” he said whiningly. “Please let me go.”

  “Did you take my coins yesterday?”

  “No,” said Jack, gulping.

  GJ pulled Jack even closer toward him. He wanted to see his eyes more closely, for he wasn’t at all sure he believed him. Jack, however, thought the giant was about to eat him, so he changed his story.

  “Yes!” he cried. “I mean yes! I am sorry, truly! I only did it because we’re so poor, and I wanted to help my old, sick—very, very sick—mother. I was doing it for her. Please don’t hurt me. I’ll never steal again, I promise. Please, kind sir, I beg you, don’t eat me.”

  GJ was taken aback—he had no idea why Jack thought he would eat him—but Jack’s talk of helping his mother had made GJ feel less cross toward him. Perhaps Jack needed the coins more than he did. Perhaps this was his chance to do some good?

  “Hmm,” said GJ, not realizing that a giant hmmm can sound rather frightening if you aren’t used to hearing it.

  “Please!” shrieked Jack. “I’ll do anything!”

  “Okay,” said GJ, plucking the sack from the boy’s back. “I want my harp and my goose back, but you can keep the egg, for your mother.”

  “What?” said Jack. Why would he do that? he wondered.

  “You heard me—keep the egg,” said GJ, putting Jack back on a lower branch of the beanstalk. “But keep your promise, never steal again—and never come to the Upper Lands again either.” />
  Jack scampered down the beanstalk without so much as a thank you to GJ. I don’t want that lump changing his mind about that golden egg and coming down after me, he thought as he reached the ground. I’ll chop down the beanstalk. And he grabbed the axe from the pile of unchopped wood in his yard and started hacking at the base of the stalk.

  “Hey!” shouted GJ, who was still halfway up it. “Stop it, or the beanstalk will fall and I’ll die!”

  “Not my problem!” cried Jack, swinging the axe again and again. As the beanstalk wobbled, GJ dropped the sack with the harp and goose in it and it fell and caught on one of the beanstalk’s lower shoots.

  GJ had to get his goose back—the villagers would be lost without its eggs—but the beanstalk was getting wobblier and wobblier. GJ was scared. He didn’t want to fall. He looked up: he could retreat home, where he’d be safe, but then what about the goose? GJ took a giant breath and started climbing downward instead.

  Jack had also seen the sack drop, and now he raced up the beanstalk, greed overtaking him. “Stupid, clumsy giant,” he cried, “I’ll have my harp and goose after all.”

  Jack was nimbler than GJ, and he reached the sack first, snatching it and beginning to climb back down. But GJ had an idea. He uncoiled his tree-snagging rope, looked directly at the sack, swung the rope down, and snagged the sack! Then he started climbing for home, the sack trailing after him.

  “Hey!” shouted Jack. “You can’t! It’s mine!”

  “No, it’s not,” called GJ over his shoulder.

  Rage overtook Jack. As GJ hauled himself safely back to the Upper Lands, panting in relief, Jack began climbing after GJ up the now very wobbly beanstalk.