Angela Carter's Book Of Fairy Tales

by Angela Carter

  Carry her back to her mother.

  Stop not to rest on the way thither

  Stop not for man, or woman either.

  Kneel only for him who says ‘Shoo!’

  The camel lifted itself up to do as they bid. Neither halting nor running, it walked along the road it had traveled before. When half the distance had been crossed, three men spied what looked like a riderless camel lost in the wild. ‘Let us catch it for ourselves!’ they said, and shouted to make it stop. But the camel continued on.

  Suddenly one of the men called to his friends. ‘Wait while I tie on my shoe!’ As soon as the camel heard the word ‘shoe’ it began to lower itself on to its knees. Joyfully the men ran to seize its halter. But what did they find? A wooden bier and lying on it a lifeless girl! ‘Her people are wealthy,’ said one, ‘look at the ring on her finger!’ And swiftly as the thought entered his head he began to pull off the shining jewel for himself. But in moving the ring the robber dislodged the nail from the Ghoul’s little finger which had pierced Wudei’a’s skin as she swept. The girl sat up alive and breathing. ‘Long life to him who brought me back from death,’ she said. Then she turned the camel’s head towards her brothers’ castle.

  Weeping and falling upon Wudei’a’s neck, the youths welcomed their lost sister back. ‘Let us go and kiss the hands of our father and mother before they die,’ said the eldest. ‘You have been a father to us,’ said the others, ‘and your word like a father’s.’ Mounting their horses, all seven, with their sister on her camel making the eighth, set out for home.

  ‘O sons, what made you leave the world I live in?’ said their father when he had kissed and welcomed them. ‘What made you leave me and your mother weeping night and day in grief over you?’ On the first day and the second and the third, the youths rested and said nothing. But on the fourth when they had eaten, the oldest brother told the story from the time when their aunt had so falsely sent them into the wilderness until they had all found each other again. And from that day, they all lived together and were happy.

  So ends the story of Wudei’a Who Sent Away Subei’a.

  THE MARKET OF THE DEAD

  (WEST AFRICAN: DAHOMEY)

  here were two co-wives. The first wife gave birth to twins, but herself died in childbirth. So the second wife took care of them. The elder twin was called Hwese, the other Hwevi. When the stepmother pounded grain, she took away the fine flour on top, and gave them what was not fit to eat.

  One day the stepmother gave them each a small gourd, and told them to go for water. They went to the stream, but on the way back Hwese slipped and broke his gourd. The other said, ‘If we go home now, she will beat Hwese, and let me go free. So I’ll break mine, too.’ He threw it down and broke it.

  When the stepmother saw what had happened, she got a whip and whipped them.

  Hwevi said, ‘I am going to buy a bead.’ Hwese said, ‘Yes, let us each buy a bead for Ku. We will go there and visit the one who watches Death’s door. Perhaps he will let us see our mother.’

  The grave is deep,

  Deep, deep,

  Stepmother bought some gourds,

  But Hwese broke his gourd,

  And Hwevi broke his, too.

  When we told our stepmother,

  She flogged us with a whip,

  So Hwese bought a bead

  And Hwevi bought one, too.

  Good. So they went to see the guardian of Death’s door. He asked them, ‘What do you want?’

  Hwevsi said, ‘Yesterday, when we went to get water, my brother Hwese broke his gourd. So I broke mine, too. Our stepmother beat us, and did not give us anything to eat all day. So we have come to beg you to let us enter here. We want to see our mother.’

  When the guardian heard this, he opened the door.

  The grave is deep,

  Deep, deep.

  Stepmother bought some gourds,

  But Hwese broke his gourd,

  And Hwevi broke his, too.

  When we told our stepmother,

  She flogged us with a whip,

  So Hwese bought a bead,

  And Hwevi bought one, too.

  We gave these to the door’s guardian

  And the door opened.

  Inside there were two markets, the market of the living, and the market of the dead.

  Good. Everybody asked them, ‘Where do you come from, where do you come from?’ The living asked this, and the dead asked it, too. The children said, ‘This is what happened. Yesterday we broke the little gourds our stepmother gave us. She beat us and gave us nothing to eat. We begged the man who watches at the door to let us come in to see our mother, so she might buy two other gourds for us.’

  Good. Then their mother came and bought some acasa in the market of the living for them. Then she turned her back, and gave money to a living man to buy two gourds in the market of the living for them, and gave these to her children. Then she herself went to the market of the dead, and bought palm nuts to send to her husband’s other wife. For she knew that the other liked these nuts very much. Now, once the woman ate the palm nuts, she would surely die.

  Good. Then the mother said to the children, ‘All right. Go home now, and tell your stepmother good-day. Thank her for looking after you so well.’

  The grave is deep,

  Deep, deep.

  Stepmother bought some gourds,

  But Hwese broke his gourd,

  And Hwevi broke his, too.

  When we told our stepmother,

  She flogged us with a whip,

  So Hwese bought a bead,

  And Hwevi bought one, too.

  We gave these to the door’s guardian

  And the door opened.

  Our mother, hearing our story,

  Bought us two gourds,

  For our stepmother.

  The stepmother looked for the two boys. She looked for them everywhere, but she could not find out where they had gone. When they came back, she asked them, ‘Where were you?’

  They said, ‘We went to see our mother.’

  But their stepmother scolded them. She said, ‘No, you lie. Nobody can visit the dead.’

  Good. The children gave her the palm nuts. They said, ‘Here, our mother sent these to you.’

  The other woman laughed at them. ‘So you found a dead one to send me palm nuts?’

  But when the stepmother ate these palm nuts, she died.

  The grave is deep,

  Deep, deep.

  Stepmother bought some gourds,

  But Hwese broke his gourd,

  And Hwevi broke his, too.

  When we told our stepmother,

  She flogged us with a whip,

  So Hwese bought a bead,

  And Hwevi bought one, too.

  We gave these to the door’s guardian

  And the door opened.

  Our mother, hearing our story,

  Bought us two gourds,

  For our stepmother.

  At home our stepmother wanted to buy life,

  But we gave her the fruit

  In abundance, abundance.

  In Dahomey, when a person dies, the family goes to a diviner and he makes the dead talk so that you hear his voice. So when they called the dead stepmother she said, ‘Tell all the other women that my death came from the orphans. Tell them also that Mawu says that when there are several wives, and one dies and leaves children, the others must care for the children of the dead woman.’

  This is why, if a man has two wives, and one dies leaving a child, you give that child to the second wife, and the second wife must look after the dead woman’s child better than after her own children. And this is why one never mistreats orphans. For once you mistreat them, you die. You die the same day. You are not even sick. I know that myself. I am an orphan. My father never lets me go out alone at night. Whenever I ask him for something, he gives it to me.

  THE WOMAN WHO MARRIED HER SON’S WIFE

  (INNUIT)

  nce there
lived an old woman who desired her son’s pretty young wife. This son was a hunter who often would be gone for many days at a time. Once, while he was gone, the old woman sat down and made herself a penis out of seal-bone and skins. She fastened this penis to her waist and showed it to her daughter-in-law, who exclaimed: ‘How nice . . .’ Then they slept together. Soon the old woman was going out to hunt in a big skin kayak, just like her son. And when she came back, she would take off her clothes and move her breasts up and down, saying: ‘Sleep with me, my dear little wife. Sleep with me . . .’

  It happened that the son returned from his hunting and saw his mother’s seals lying in front of the house. ‘Whose seals are these?’ he asked of his wife.

  ‘None of your business,’ she replied.

  Being suspicious of her, he dug a hole behind their house and hid there. He figured that some hunter was claiming his wife in his absence. Soon, however, he saw his mother paddling home in her kayak with a big hooded seal. Mother and son never caught anything but big hooded seals. The old woman reached land and took off her clothes, then moved her breasts up and down, saying: ‘My sweet little wife, kindly delouse me . . .’

  The son was not pleased by his mother’s behaviour. He came out of hiding and struck the old woman so hard that he killed her. ‘Now,’ he said to his wife, ‘you must come away with me because our home place has a curse on it.’

  The wife began to quiver and shake all over. ‘You’ve killed my dear husband,’ she cried. And would not stop crying.

  THE LITTLE RED FISH AND THE CLOG OF GOLD

  (IRAQI)

  either here nor there lived a man, a fisherman. His wife had drowned in the great river and left him a pretty little girl not more than two years old. In a house nearby lived a widow and her daughter. The woman began to come to the fisherman’s house to care for the girl and comb her hair, and every time she said to the child, ‘Am I not like a mother to you?’ She tried to please the fisherman, but he always said, ‘I shall never marry. Stepmothers hate their husband’s children even though their rivals are dead and buried.’ When his daughter grew old enough to pity him when she saw him washing his own clothes, she began to say, ‘Why don’t you marry our neighbor, Father? There is no evil in her, and she loves me as much as her own daughter.’

  They say water will wear away stone. In the end the fisherman married the widow, and she came to live in his house. The wedding week was not yet over when sure enough, she began to feel jealous of her husband’s daughter. She saw how much her father loved the child and indulged her. And she could not help but see that the child was fair, and quick, while her own daughter was thin and sallow, and so clumsy she did not know how to sew the seam of her gown.

  No sooner did the woman feel that she was mistress of the house then she began to leave all the work for the girl to do. She would not give her stepchild soap to wash her hair and feet, and she fed her nothing but crusts and crumbs. All this the girl bore patiently, saying not a word. For she did not wish to grieve her father, and she thought, ‘I picked up the scorpion with my own hand; I’ll save myself with my own mind.’

  Besides her other errands, the fisherman’s daughter had to go down to the river each day to bring home her father’s catch, the fish they ate and sold. One day from beneath a basket load of three catfish, suddenly one little red fish spoke to her:

  Child with such patience to endure,

  I beg you now, my life secure.

  Throw me back into the water,

  And now and always be my daughter.

  The girl stopped to listen, half in wonder and half in fear. Then retracing her steps, she flung the fish into the river and said, ‘Go! People say, “Do a good deed for, even if it is like throwing gold into the sea, in God’s sight it is not lost.”’ And lifting itself on the face of the water, the little fish replied:

  Your kindness is not in vain –

  A new mother do you gain.

  Come to me when you are sad,

  And I shall help to make you glad.

  The girl went back to the house and gave the three catfish to her stepmother. When the fisherman returned and asked about the fourth, she told him, ‘Father, the red fish dropped from my basket. It may have fallen into the river, for I couldn’t find it again.’ ‘Never mind,’ he said, ‘it was a very small fish.’ But her stepmother began to scold, ‘You never told me there were four fishes. You never said that you lost one. Go now and look for it, before I curse you!’

  It was past sunset and the girl had to walk back to the river in the dark. Her eyes swollen with tears, she stood on the water’s edge and called out,

  Red fish, my mother and nurse,

  Come quickly, and ward off a curse.

  And there at her feet appeared the little red fish to comfort her and say, ‘Though patience is bitter, its fruit is very sweet. Now bend down and take this gold piece from my mouth. Give it to your stepmother, and she will say nothing to you.’ Which is exactly what happened.

  The years came and the years went, and in the fisherman’s house life continued as before. Nothing changed except that the two little girls were now young women.

  One day a great man, the master of the merchants’ guild, announced that his daughter was to be married. It was the custom for the women to gather at the bride’s house on the ‘day of the bride’s henna’ to celebrate and sing as they watched the girls’ feet, palms, and arms being decorated for the wedding with red henna stain. Then every mother brought her unwed daughters to be seen by the mothers of sons. Many a girl’s destiny was decided on such a day.

  The fisherman’s wife rubbed and scrubbed her daughter and dressed her in her finest gown and hurried her off to the master merchant’s house with the rest. The fisherman’s daughter was left at home to fill the water jar and sweep the floor while they were gone.

  But as soon as the two women were out of sight, the fisherman’s daughter gathered up her gown and ran down to the river to tell the little red fish her sorrow. ‘You shall go to the bride’s henna and sit on the cushions in the center of the hall,’ said the little red fish. She gave the girl a small bundle and said, ‘Here is everything you need to wear, with a comb of pearl for your hair and clogs of gold for your feet. But one thing you must remember: be sure to leave before your stepmother rises to go.’

  When the girl loosened the cloth that was knotted round the clothes, out fell a gown of silk as green as clover. It was stitched with threads and sequins of gold, and from its folds rose a sweet smell like the essence of roses. Quickly she washed herself and decked herself and tucked the comb of pearl behind her braid and slipped the golden clogs on to her feet and went tripping off to the feast.

  The women from every house in the town were there. They paused in their talk to admire her face and her grace, and they thought, ‘This must be the governor’s daughter!’ They brought her sherbet and cakes made with almonds and honey and they sat her in the place of honor in the middle of them all. She looked for her stepmother with her daughter and saw them far off, near the door where the peasants were sitting, and the wives of weavers of peddlers.

  Her stepmother stared at her and said to herself, ‘O Allah Whom we praise, how much this lady resembles my husband’s daughter! But then, don’t they say, “Every seven men were made from one clod of clay”?’ And the stepmother never knew that it was her very own husband’s daughter and none other!

  Not to spin out our tale, before the rest of the women stood up, the fisherman’s daughter went to the mother of the bride to say, ‘May it be with God’s blessings and bounty, O my aunt!’ and hurried out. The sun had set and darkness was falling. On her way the girl had to cross a bridge over the stream that flowed into the king’s garden. And by fate and divine decree, it happened that as she ran over the bridge one of her golden clogs fell off her foot and into the river below. It was too far to climb down to the water and search in the dusk; what if her stepmother should return home before her? So the girl took off her other shoe, and pu
lling her cloak around her head, dashed on her way.

  When she reached the house she shucked her fine clothes, rolled the pearly comb and golden clog inside them, and hid them under the woodpile. She rubbed her head and hands and feet with earth to make them dirty, and she was standing with her broom when her stepmother found her. The wife looked into her face and examined her hands and feet and said, ‘Still sweeping after sunset? Or are you hoping to sweep our lives away?’

  What of the golden clog? Well, the current carried it into the king’s garden and rolled it and rolled it until it came to rest in the pool where the king’s son led his stallion to drink. Next day the prince was watering the horse. He saw that every time it lowered its head to drink, something made it shy and step back. What could there be at the bottom of the pool to frighten his stallion? He called to the groom, and from the mud the man brought him the shining clog of gold.

  When the prince held the beautiful little thing in his hand he began to imagine the beautiful little foot that had worn it. He walked back to the palace with his heart busy and his mind full of the girl who owned so precious a shoe. The queen saw him lost in thought and said, ‘May Allah send us good news; why so careworn, my son?’ ‘Yammah, Mother, I want you to find me a wife!’ said the prince. ‘So much thought over one wife and no more?’ said the queen. ‘I’ll find you a thousand if you wish! I’ll bring every girl in the kingdom to be your wife if you want! But tell me, my son, who is the girl who has stolen your reason?’ ‘I want to marry the girl who owns this clog,’ replied the prince, and he told his mother how he had found it. ‘You shall have her, my son,’ said the queen. ‘I shall begin my search tomorrow as soon as it is light, and I shall not stop till I find her.’

  The very next day the prince’s mother went to work, in at one house and out at the next with the golden clog tucked under her arm. Wherever she saw a young woman, she measured the shoe against the sole of the maiden’s foot. Meanwhile the prince sat in the palace gate waiting for her return ‘What news, Mother?’ he asked. And she said, ‘Nothing yet, my son. Be patient, child, put snow on your breast and cool your passion. I’ll find her yet.’