Jaclyn and the Beanstalk

by Mary Ting

  “You’ve gone mad,” a young man with a stocking hat said.

  “It’s the only way to lure one out, unless you want to go to the mountain yourself.” William arched his eyebrows.

  “You want to capture one? The demon speaks through your mouth,” the same fellow retorted. “I say we kill them all.”

  “We do not kill.” My father gritted his teeth.

  His determined eyes flickered back away from the lantern. With a clenched jaw and fists rounded, he stepped toward the speaker.

  “If you’re not at ease with this, then do not show yourselves. I’ve gathered this group to keep our homes and livelihoods safe against whatever may threaten it. Some of us have fought battles together for the king. We are brothers, family. We are all we have. Perhaps after we settle all this, my family shall join some of you in a village. I miss your fellowship.”

  “Me too.” John nodded curtly.

  “And I.” William looked at my father with brotherly affection.

  A few more agreed.

  “What shall we do if we capture these creatures or madmen?” Peter rubbed his dark, curly hair.

  Father crossed his arms and sighed. “I do not plan to capture it. I want to see with my own eyes. I believe it to be monsters. Whatever caused us to move, to fear, we need to clear this matter. The problem is spreading.”

  “I agree.” William scrubbed his face. “We cannot fight the devil. We will not win.”

  “I second.” John scratched under his chin.

  Some of the other men agreed, but others kept quiet.

  “Sun will arise soon. The wives will know we’re missing.” Aldwin retrieved a sword from the ground and stood.

  When William let go of his cape, his sword caught my eyes. It resembled the one Father had hidden away. John and a few others had the same sword, too. Of course, they had all served the king. But for some reason, Father had hidden his special sword away when he left the king’s army.

  “For those who are willing, I’ll see you in three days.” Father gave a half-grin and adjusted his hat on his head. “Thank you for coming. Please wipe away the shoe prints as you leave. Have a safe journey back home. Godspeed.”

  Three days?

  Father had mentioned a trip to town in three days. It appeared he had another destination in mind.

  The men slapping Father on the shoulder one by one signaled time to leave. That night I heard a side of Father I’d never known. My respect for him rose even greater. He was well known by his former townspeople. He protected them, served them, and cared about them.

  The men spoke to Father with reverence, at least the older ones with whom he had a kinship. None of them would have been there late into the night if they hadn’t sought his advice.

  But the beasts—they were real whether the men believed or not. I believed because Father said they were, and I’d heard their cries for months.

  The monsters’ wails had first invaded my mind the day I turned sixteen. How many heard their cries at night like me and never told a soul, afraid to be cast out of their village or burned for a heretic?

  A silent, deadly chill took hold of every bone and muscle. Small wonder he had not liked my monster tale the previous night.

  When father flung the barn door open, I had no time to think but run back home. Who knew what kind of scolding I would receive if I were caught? I had seen no women at the meeting, let alone children.

  Water descended in gleaming silver drops from the night sky, a gentle kiss on my face. I tightened my coverlet and ran against the frigid wind as fast as my legs would carry me.

  Boots pounded against the wet dirt as the rain poured heavier and thicker on the spongy Earth. My face went numb, and then my body, not just from the savage cold, but from my thoughts.

  They are real ... real. Taller than life ... claws like a beast ... teeth as sharp as knives.

  I reached home with speed I never knew I had. Panting and desperate for air, I slipped inside quietly and walked with careful steps so as not to disturb Mother. Then I threw my coverlet across the bed and scooted under the damp blanket.

  My hammering heart slowed to a steadier beat but refused to calm. I had discovered much through the crack in the wall. Having early chores in the morning, I closed my eyes for sleep, shivering, but sleep would not come.

  Thoughts of monsters took hold of my mind.

  They are real.

  Chapter Six

  Monsters In My Wake

  The celestial fireball broke through the lingering gray streaks and greeted a sparkling new day after the night’s rain, and a scent of wet grass and soil filled the air. I yawned and stretched as the roosters crowed.

  After I cleaned the horse stalls and pigpen, I collected the eggs and milked the cow. Then I placed the eggs and a jar of milk on the table so Mother would find them when she awoke. Those chores were hard labor, but I looked forward to spending time with Angel before the morning meal.

  Angel shook her head and whipped her tail when I entered. She always stood in a sun-filled spot inside her stall. Glancing to Daniel, I thought about the lance again. Its point drew blood but left no wound.

  “What do you suggest I do, Angel?” I stroked her coarse mane. “Shall I peek at the lance once more?”

  I had little time to think. Father would appear soon. As I circled where the men had stood the night before, I replayed their words about the monsters and wiped away traces of footprints with my boot.

  Please wipe away the shoe prints as you leave, Father had asked. A few men had been careless.

  The need to know whether the lance had really cut me possessed my mind. The devil might truly take my soul if I did not learn the truth.

  “I’m going to visit Daniel.” I grabbed a handful of hay and held it out for Angel. “See, I love you more. I shall be back.” Then I grabbed a handful of hay for Daniel, too.

  I opened the latch, carefully stepped inside, and stroked Daniel’s head. After I fed him some hay, I maneuvered around him. Sinking to my knees, I dusted an area around the handle and pulled it up. The lance lay under the flap of black fabric, in the same position I’d left it.

  I slid it out of the floor vault and slipped out of the stall, afraid I might drop it again and startle Daniel. Again, I gently ran my finger along the length, hoping to repeat what I’d done before.

  My breath caught in my throat the closer I got to the sharp edge, and my heart raced faster from the anticipation. Then I touched the tip.

  Silence.

  I slapped my forehead in frustration and touched the tip again.

  Nothing.

  I shook the weapon, angry at the stupid object consuming my waking thoughts. At a loss, I wrapped my hand around it to drag it back in place, but my hand slipped and touched the tip.

  I gasped, dropped the lance, and folded my arms around my waist. An image flashed before me—the gruesome monster of the men’s tales, with a long, hairy body and glowing amber eyes.

  Its yellowed teeth were sharp like knives, and its hands bore claws long and jagged enough to rip a body to shreds. Horrified by the vision, I quivered in fright and my legs weakened.

  Taller than life ... claws like a beast ... teeth as sharp as knives.

  The devil had possessed me as punishment for sneaking, no doubt.

  Daniel did not spook like before, but I was out of my mind. Listening to the men talk about monsters had prepared me for fear. I couldn’t bear seeing monsters during my waking hours, too. Even Angel would look like a monster, and I would lose my only friend.

  I swore at the lance, placed it back, and then patted Daniel. I thanked him for being silent and walked out of his stall.

  At that moment, Father walked in.

  I bristled and held my breath.

  “Good day. How did you sleep?” Father stood by the door, holding his hat.

  His bright brown eyes looked refreshed, ready to start anew, but I, on the other hand, wanted to crawl back into bed.

  “As well
as can be.” I stretched my arms to the ceiling and yawned.

  Father arched his brows, but he did not speak a word. His eyes roamed about the floor and shifted toward the direction where Daniel stood.

  Could he tell I’d been snooping?

  Then he glanced around, perhaps searching for something. He knew I had been the only one there.

  “You did well with chores.” Father met my gaze again.

  When his finger poked through the hole, I frowned at his hat. He should at least have mother mend it or buy a new one.

  “Of course I did,” I said.

  He’d never praised me for finishing my chores before. So very strange.

  Father took long strides to Daniel, his eyes dancing in the sunlight as he looked about, then cut back to me.

  I held my breath, my pulse racing. He knew. I would surely be scolded.

  “Everything fine in here?” The corner of his eyes creased when he schooled his face.

  I did a turnabout, tilted my head back to glance at the ceiling, and gazed at the same web I admired before. “Nothing new but the spiders.” I let out a nervous giggle, anticipating Father telling me how disappointed he was of me.

  Father pressed his back to the stable door and lines on his face eased. “Would you like to go to town?”

  I released a deep sigh and blinked. “Town?”

  Father narrowed his eyes and tilted his head as if confused. “Aye, the market town, Hampton.”

  “I thought you wished to travel alone?”

  “Soon, but it would bring me joy to take you and Mother out today. Winter is approaching.”

  I smiled. Rarely did I get to venture out.

  “Yes. I’m happy. I would love to go.” I tamed my excitement, but I screamed with joy inside.

  “Don’t fidget. Go get dressed. We’ve got ground to cover.”

  “Yes, Father.” I pressed a kiss to his cheek.

  Father gave me a soft grin as his cheeks turned rosy. I looked over my shoulder to Angel and then skipped all the way to the house. The smell of freshly baked bread stopped me from entering my chamber.

  “Hungry?” Mother wore her best dress of light-blue wool, and she had pinned her sunrise-gold hair back in braids.

  She looked so lovely. Rarely had I seen her dressed in her finest.

  “Yes, I’m famished. I could eat a cow.” I sat in front of my plate. “You look beautiful, Mother. The dress complements your eyes.”

  “Thank you.” Mother poured me some milk. Her lips pinched in the center and her sky-blue eyes sparkled, as if she was hiding a secret. “I made something for you.”

  “What is it?” I got out of my seat. I was never the patient one.

  Mother tapped my shoulder. “Nay, Jaclyn. After you finish your meal.”

  Chapter Seven

  The Market

  Draping the lavender dress in front of me, I used a small hand mirror to see my reflection. The simple dress had long sleeves, but Mother had hand-sewn lace around the cuffs and the bosom. She had also hand-sewed lace at the collar where the dress buttoned up—an elegant garment, fit for a princess.

  “It’s beautiful, but I don’t think—”

  Mother frowned and cut me off, already knowing I would give her a mouthful of my contempt.

  “We’re going to town. People have not seen you for years past. You never know who you’ll meet.”

  Why does it sound like she has some idea who I’ll meet?

  Mother knew better. I tried to be an obedient daughter, but finding a suitor held no interest for me. I inhaled a deep breath and, instead of my usual pants and tunic, donned the dress Mother had spent many hours sewing.

  “Thank you for my lovely dress.” I tried to sound cheerful, but words failed me.

  Regardless of my stoic tone, Mother’s eyes beamed.

  “You look so fair and modest. It pleases me to see you clothe yourself like a girl.” Mother smiled proudly, clapping her hands together. “Father is preparing the wagon. I’ve gathered apples, bread, and water. The wagon awaits.”

  “I’ll be right out,” I said.

  I hoped Mother would give me peace.

  With a nod, Mother walked out of my chamber. I opened my dresser and took out the only silver coin I had and shoved it securely inside my boot. Father had gifted it to me a year past, but I had never wanted anything, so I’d saved it.

  I had all I needed, and nothing ever caught my eye when we went to market. I intended to buy something for my parents to show them my appreciation. It would be enough to buy a hat for Father and a trinket for Mother.

  “Jaclyn.” Father’s booming voice vibrated through the wall. “We’ll leave without you.”

  I ran out the door with my blue wool cape swaying from side to side behind me. Angel and Daniel were hitched to the wagon, and my parents waited on the seat in front. I jumped in the back with a couple of sheep, a neatly wrapped blanket, and other items Mother had prepared for trade. Father whistled, and the sound of trotting horses filled the air.

  Dust clouded around the wagon. I swatted and coughed as it floated near me. The sun faintly peeked through the dome of sugar-white clouds, but it did not give us warmth. In the distance, large pillows of steel-gray clouds drifted our way, and I prayed the rain would not come while we traveled.

  Our journey would be long and tiresome, and rain would make it unbearable. Leaning my back against the wagon, I admired the sky and begged, please don’t rain.

  To pass the time traveling, I made up stories along the way. The rolling hills became the castle walls while the sentinel trees guarded us from the monsters living beyond. And I, the princess warrior, kept everyone safe with my sword. But I kept these stories to myself today.

  The vast green fields turned brown the farther we traveled. Even the trees lining the road had lost their summer color. They stood naked and barren, the stripped leaves crinkled and lifeless on the ground. The bare branches reminded me of death, but it would all be reborn in the spring.

  We snaked along narrow streams, tapered paths, and jolting, rocky roads. The roads reminded me why I didn’t like to travel.

  The wind whipped into a frenzy. I pulled the hood of the cape over my head to keep the cold from stinging my face. When that did not work, I lay down, tucked my knees to my chest, and drew the cape over me like a blanket.

  Cuddling closer to the sheep offered some relief. Eventually, the humming of the wind-song beguiled me, and the wagon rocked me to sleep.

  I fluttered my eyes open, still feeling the motion of the wagon. When I peered off to the side, the hills no longer came to view, and serrated, sky-piercing mountains loomed in the distance. White dusted the peaks of the tallest ones. I rejoiced for we had arrived at last.

  Father glanced over his shoulder to me. “You had a restful sleep.”

  “Aye, I did.”

  “Are you hungry? Would you like bread or water?” Mother handed me the jug of water.

  “Thank you.”

  After taking a few long gulps, I passed it back to her. Too eager to get moving, I passed on the bread Mother offered.

  When Father stopped the wagon, he jumped out and tied Daniel and Angel. Then he helped Mother out. Careful not to dirty my dress, I welcomed Father’s help.

  Father lifted the neatly wrapped fabric out of the wagon and handed the parcel to Mother. While Mother headed to trade the coverlets she made, I meandered between the homes and shops that seemed too close together after so long in the open hills. They cut the wind, but in turn, half of the road had little sun.

  I dropped my hood to bathe in the golden sun and breathe in the cool air as I walked on the pebbled ground. Some people stopped to trade inside the shops while others bargained by the wagons. When I reached the wagon with baked breads, Father took me to the side.

  “Here.” Father placed a silver coin in my hand.

  I blinked in surprise. “For me?”

  “For you. For your hard labor.”

  “But it’s too much
.” I shook my head.

  Father folded my fingers into a fist. “It’s yours. Go spend it. You’re not a child anymore. I trust you will use your good judgment.”

  I yielded, knowing Father’s words were final.

  “Oh Father, thank you.” I said.

  “If something catches your fancy, buy it. Mother and I will be here about.” He pointed at a few shops. “Don’t go past the butcher. You remember the butcher’s shop?”

  “Aye.”

  I had two silver coins. Two silver coins were better than one, and plenty for me.

  I shoved the coin Father had given me inside my boot with my other coin and skipped along. Children’s voices and laughter filled the air and the market came to life. A group of children crowded around me, all trying to lure me to their family wagons.

  A boy with dirt smeared on his face held up sheep’s wool. “For the cold nights.”

  “Nay.” I turned and ran into a girl about the age of ten.

  “Pretty fabric for a lovely girl.” She shoved it in my face. “Woolen cloth, silk, linens?”

  “Nay.” I sped up, avoiding the entourage of merchants.

  “Cheese to trade,” one yelled.

  “Sheep, goats, and chickens,” another shouted.

  The gallimaufry of people and carts, horses, sheep, geese, dogs, and noises filled my head, which was accustomed to the gentle stillness of the hills. The women gossiped while men drank ale, and children ran about with impish grins.

  The crowds grew as I walked farther in and amid the tightly packed rows of shops and cottages. My eyes shifted to mackerel, herring, cod, eel, and many more fish glistening in the hay-filled crates inside the carts.

  Then I wandered into an area selling sacks of wheat, barley, oats, and rye. Disinterested, I moved along. When I spotted pears, my mouth began to water. It had been a while since I had one.