Collected Folk Tales

by Alan Garner

  While I was creeping up the stile, my sister staying to help me, I looked back and saw him just by me; upon which I cried out, my sister also cried out, and took hold of me under her arm to draw me over; and when my feet were just come over, I still crying and looking back, we saw him reaching after me, leaning on the stile, but did not come over.

  Away we ran towards the house, called the people out, and went trembling towards the place, which might be about one hundred and fifty yards of the house; but though we came so soon to see, yet we could see nothing of them.

  He who came near us had a grim countenance, a wild and somewhat fierce look. He came towards us in a slow running pace, but with long steps for a little one. His complexion was copper-coloured, which might be significative of his disposition and condition; for they were not good, but therefore bad spirits. The red – of their cruelty; the black – of their sin and misery; and he looked rather old than young.

  The dress, the form, the colour, and the size

  Of these, dear sir, did me surprise;

  The open view we had of them all four,

  Their sudden flight, and seeing them no more,

  Do still confirm the wonder more and more.

  Hey-How for Halloween!

  A the witches tae be seen,

  Some black, an some green,

  Hey-How for Halloween!

  Anon

  ar away, and a long time ago, on a high mountain, without trees for shelter, without body or arms for anything, on spindly legs, ran Great Head.

  Further away, ten boys lived with their uncle. The elder five brothers were hunters, and the younger five stayed at home.

  One evening, the hunters did not come back; and the next day, too, they did not come.

  “I shall go to find them,” said the biggest of the remaining five, and he set out, but no one saw him again. In turn the others went, until only the youngest and smallest was left, and the uncle would not let him go, for fear of losing all.

  The youngest and the uncle hunted together now, and the uncle watched for birds in the tree-tops, and the youngest listened for beasts in the thicket.

  “Uncle,” said the youngest, “I hear a man in the ground.”

  “Impossible,” said the uncle.

  “He’s asleep,” said the youngest.

  “It is a hedgehog snoring,” said the uncle. “Dig him up.”

  But when they scooped the earth from the forest floor an arm was there, and the uncle and the youngest untwined from the roots and the soil a living man, covered in mould, and senseless.

  They took him back to their home and washed him, and warmed him, and oiled him with bear’s grease, and slowly he awoke, and later he could speak.

  “Is it Spring?” he said.

  “Not yet,” said the uncle. “The snows have melted, but Winter has not gone.”

  “Then why wake me?” said the mole-man. “I can’t go back to sleep now.”

  “We didn’t know,” said the uncle.

  “You’ll have to feed me until my waking time,” said the mole-man. “I’m hungry.”

  So the youngest and the uncle looked after their guest. Once he was properly awake he was much better tempered, but still strange. They took it in turns to sit up at night, rather than have him around unwatched.

  The mole-man looked up one evening as a storm roared over the forest. “Do you hear that?” he said. “My brother Great Head is riding the wind. How he shouts! Can you hear him?” The wind screamed. “That’s my brother! Oh, it’s a long time since we talked together, Great Head and I. Yes, we’re overdue for a meeting. I think I’ll invite him here to stay for a while.”

  The uncle was terrified.

  “Don’t worry,” said the mole-man. “Great Head is easy, if you know how to handle him. While I’m gone, fetch in a store of maple-wood blocks. They’re his favourite food.”

  The mole-man set out for Great Head’s mountain. He took a bow with him, and on the way he cut some arrows from the root of a hickory-tree. And at midday he arrived at the foot of the mountain, and hid in a bush.

  Great Head was perched on a rock, frowning and growling at an owl. “I see thee! I see thee!” he said over and over again. The mole-man crept under the grass to come as near as possible to his brother. But Great Head of the sharp eyes saw the ruckle of the grass. “I see thee!” The mole-man burrowed as hard as he could. “I see thee! I see thee! Thou shalt die!”

  The mole-man drew his bow and shot an arrow at Great Head. The arrow became the size of a tree as it flew, and when it reached Great Head it turned round, without striking him, and sped back to the mole-man. Now it shrank in the air, and dropped into the quiver no bigger than when it had left.

  The mole-man ran back to the uncle and the youngest, with Great Head behind him, puffing and snorting on the wing of a hurricane. He dived into the hut, and Great Head burst in after him. The uncle and the youngest began to batter the head with mallets, but the thin legs shook with laughter, for Great Head recognised his brother and was amused by the trick and the greeting. He ate the maple-blocks, a Winter’s fire load of them, and was well filled.

  Then the uncle begged a favour of his guests, and they said that they knew what it would be, and its answer, and that they would carry it out.

  “My nephews,” said the uncle.

  “My brothers,” said the youngest.

  “I see them,” said Great Head. “I see them.”

  “They are not far from here,” said the mole-man. “A witch has them. Come, youngest, and we shall show their bones.”

  The youngest and the mole-man climbed into Great Head’s hair, and they went springing through the forest to the witch. They found her at her door, and the ground was spread with bones, and she was singing.

  When she saw them, the witch spoke the word that turns people into dry bones, but Great Head’s hair was too thick for it, and his legs too nimble. They escaped the word, and it turned on the witch and boned her, and what was left the youngest burnt to ashes. Then the mole-man told him to sort out his brothers and to gather them in heaps.

  “Great Head and I are going home now,” he said. “When we pass by over the trees, I shall call to your brothers and they will hear me.”

  The youngest stood alone and listened to the nearing storm, and out of it a voice cried to the bones, and they rose and were men. “I see them! I see them!” howled the wind.

  And soon after, it was Spring.

  here was once an old king and he sent for his servant John.

  When John came, the king said, “I am dying, but you are my Faithful John. You will be faithful after I am dead and will look after my young prince.”

  Faithful John wept, and said. “Master, tell me what I have to do.”

  And the king said, “Teach the young prince all that a young prince should learn; and when he is the young king, serve him as well as you have served me, and look after him.”

  “I shall,” said Faithful John.

  “Show him all this great castle,” said the king: “all its rooms and all its treasures. But the last room on the longest stair of the highest tower you must not show him. Never let him see. For in that room, if any man sees, he is in danger of his life.”

  “I shall not show him,” said Faithful John.

  Then the king was happy and died in peace, and the young prince was crowned king after him, and Faithful John served him as he had served his father. And Faithful John taught the young king all that he should learn, and showed him all the great castle. He showed him the treasures and the painted rooms and the gardens and the peacocks. But the last room on the longest stair of the highest tower he did not show him.

  One day, the young king sent for Faithful John and said, “You have taught me and shown me everything in this kingdom. But you have not shown me the highest tower of my palace. Take me there now.”

  So John did as he was told; for he was Faithful John.

  When they came to the tower, the king said. “This is the l
ongest stair in any tower of my palace. I shall climb it.”

  And John sighed, and went with his king.

  At the top, the young king said, “This is the last room on the longest stair in the highest tower of my palace. Open it.”

  And John did not know what to do. For he was Faithful John, and had promised the old king that he would not open the door.

  “Master,” said John, “I promised your father that I would serve you.”

  “Then open the door,” said the young king.

  “I promised,” said John, “that I would look after you.”

  “Then open the door,” said the young king.

  “I cannot serve you and look after you if I open the door,” said John.

  “Open the door,” said the young king.

  So John opened the door.

  The young king cried out, and fell to the floor. Faithful John locked the room and carried the young king to his royal bed and laid him there.

  A long time the young king was in a fever, and John looked after him. And when the young king could speak again, he said, “What did I see in that room?”

  “You saw the picture of the Princess of the Golden Roof,” said John.

  “I love her,” said the young king. “If the leaves of the trees of the world could speak, they would not be enough to speak my love for that princess. My life is lost without her. Help me, Faithful John. What can I send to win her love for me?”

  “The Princess of the Golden Roof,” said John, “has around her only gold: golden tables, golden chairs, golden cups, golden plates, golden doors and golden walls. She grooms her hair with a golden brush all bristled gold. She herself is golden beauty and she walks in gold.”

  “I have gold,” said the young king. “Send for my smiths.”

  So John sent for the goldsmiths of the kingdom, and they worked for a year and a day.

  The young king watched over their work, and thought that it was not enough. “Send for the smiths of the world,” said the young king. So John sent for all the smiths of the world; and they worked for a year and a day.

  They made singing birds of gold, and stags and hounds of gold, and everything wonderful and wild on which the sun shone, dragons and eagles, and all of gold. And the smiths made a ship of gold, with golden sails furled soft, and ropes of plaited gold to keep them. And when the ship was finished, it was loaded with the golden gifts, and the young king and John sailed to the land where the Princess of the Golden Roof lived.

  They reached the land, and the young king told John to fill his apron with the finest of the treasures and to take them to the Princess of the Golden Roof. John did so; and when the Princess of the Golden Roof saw what he carried, she marvelled at the work and asked him who he was and from which country he brought such gifts.

  “I am the servant of the young king,” said John. “And I come from no country, but from the golden ship that is against your land. And my master’s ship is full of gold.”

  “Go to your master,” said the Princess of the Golden Roof, “and say that I bid him bring the treasures here.”

  “But the ship,” said John, “we could not bring.”

  So the Princess of the Golden Roof went with Faithful John. And when the young king saw her, he thought that his heart would break, for she was more beautiful than her picture.

  The young king asked the Princess of the Golden Roof to go with him into the ship, so that she might see all the wonders that it held. And the Princess of the Golden Roof went gladly in.

  When she was in, John untied the mooring and pushed off from the shore. He pushed gently, and let the ship drift with the sea.

  The Princess of the Golden Roof wondered at the treasures; and when she had seen them all, she went to go back to her palace, but found no land on any side, only the waters of the sea.

  Then the young king told her the truth, and why the treasures had been made, and he said, “I love you more than life.”

  And the Princess of the Golden Roof looked at the young king and saw him for himself and not for the gold of his treasures, and she loved him. “I shall stay,” she said, “and I shall be your queen.”

  The ship sailed on. And by and by three black ravens settled in the golden mast, above where John stood, holding the rudder.

  “The young king is taking home the Princess of the Golden Roof,” said one.

  “That will not help him,” said another. “A red horse will meet him when he gets to land, and when he mounts, it will take him up into the sky, and he will be lost for ever.”

  “But,” said the third raven, “if somebody else jumps into the saddle, pulls the dagger from the scabbard there and stabs the horse to the heart, the king will be saved. But who knows that? If anyone should tell it, they would turn to stone from toe to knee.”

  “And the king will still not get his bride,” said the second raven. “When they reach the castle, the wedding shirt will be in a basin, and seem to be of woven gold with silver. But it will be pitch and sulphur and shall burn him to his bones.”

  “Can nothing be done?” said the third raven.

  “If somebody took gloves,” said the first raven, “and threw the shirt into the fire, the king would be saved. But what does that help? For whoever told it would turn to stone from knee to heart.”

  “Even if the shirt is burnt,” said the third raven, “the king will not have his bride. For, at the wedding feast, the young queen will faint. And unless there is someone to pick her up and draw three drops of blood from her right breast, she will die.”

  “If anyone told that,” said the second raven, “they would be turned to stone from heart to head.”

  And the three ravens flew away.

  When the boat reached the land of the young king, a red horse stood waiting on the shore.

  The young king said, “Here is the horse to carry us to our castle.”

  But John leapt forward onto the horse, drew the dagger from the scabbard that was there, and stabbed the horse to the heart. The young king asked no question, for this was Faithful John.

  When they reached the castle, there was a basin, and in it a wedding shirt that seemed to be of woven gold with silver. The young king went to put it on, but John took gloves and cast the shirt into the fire, where it burnt as pitch and sulphur. The young king asked no question, for this was Faithful John.

  When the marriage feast was held, and the dance began, the young queen fainted to the ground. John lifted her in his arms, and, before all the court, drew three drops of red blood from her right breast and spat them out. The young queen awoke, and was well again. But the young king was jealous.

  “Take him,” he said, “and hang him tomorrow. For he is Faithless John.”

  And John was put in the dungeon, and at dawn the next day he was led to the gallows.

  On the gallows, John said, “A man who is to die has the right to speak.”

  “Speak,” said the young king.

  And John told the first truth that the ravens knew. And he was turned to stone from toe to knee.

  And John spoke the second truth that the ravens knew. And he was turned to stone from knee to heart.

  And John told the third truth that the ravens knew. And he fell, a stone.

  “Oh, Faithful John!” cried the young king. “I have rewarded good with evil!”

  And he had his servants carry the heavy stone into the palace and lay it against the young king’s own fire, so that Faithful John would be ever warm. And the young king and his queen lived all their long days beside the stone, so that Faithful John would be in company. And when they died, their children buried them beneath the stone, so that Faithful John would be faithful yet.

  And when the last king and the last queen of that golden land had gone, the palace and its treasures, towers and stairs and painted rooms all gone, and the gardens and the peacocks were no more, the stone remained, among many a fern and many a waving reed. It is there still. It always will be there. For it is Faithful John.<
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  here was once an old man, and he had an old wife, and they had one son. They worked hard all their lives to bring up the child fit and strong, and denied him nothing that they wanted him to have. He was their future, for they reckoned that, after all they had done for him, he would spend his years of strength in looking after them in their age.

  But when he became a man, the son said to his parents, in the way he was accustomed to speak to them, since it was how they had brought him up:

  “I want to get married. Go to the king and tell him I want his daughter.”

  “Paul, are you mad?” said his mother. “How can we go from our poor hut and our lean table to the banquets of the king and fetch you his daughter?”

  “If you don’t,” said Paul. “I shall leave home.”

  So the mother was frightened, and she made a wedding cake to placate her son, and left him gazing at it while she went to see the king.

  She had put on her best clothes, but when she stood in the palace yard she saw that her clothes were nothing more than clean rags, and she felt ashamed.

  She was too ashamed to go forward, and too ashamed to go back, and she might have stayed there for ever if the king had not spoken to her.

  “What is it you want from me, old woman?” he said.

  And with her shame, and her nervousness and her fear of her son, she said, in a whisper, “Nothing.”

  “Have you come for charity?” said the king.

  “Oh yes! Oh yes!” said the old woman.

  So the king told his treasurer to give her ten gold crowns and the old woman went home. “Paul will never leave us when he sees the gold crowns,” she said to herself. “He’ll stay with his mother.”

  But Paul kicked the money out of her hand, and shouted, “It’s his daughter, not his money I want! Go and get her for me!”

  His parents cowered by the door.

  “Or else I shall leave home today.”