by Terry Jones
‘Very well,’ said Sam. ‘Sit still and open your mouth.’
So the beast sat very still and opened its mouth, while Sam got a pair of pliers and took out every single tooth in that beast’s head.
Well, when the beast had lost all its thousand teeth, it couldn’t eat people any more. So Sam took it home and went to the Mayor and claimed ten bags of gold as his reward. Then he went to the King and claimed the hundred bags of gold as his reward. Then he went back and lived with his father and mother once more, and the beast helped in the pastryshop, and took cakes to the Palace every day, and everyone forgot they had ever been afraid of the beast with a thousand teeth.
FAR-AWAY CASTLE
A TRAVELLER ONCE STOPPED TO ASK an old woman the name of a castle that stood on a hill close by.
‘Well, nobody rightly knows its name,’ said the old woman, ‘but round here they do call it Far-Away Castle.’
‘That’s an odd name,’ said the traveller, ‘for it doesn’t look so very far from here.’
‘Ah no,’ said the woman, ‘it don’t look very far, do it?’
‘It couldn’t take me more than an hour to walk there, could it?’ said the traveller.
‘I wouldn’t know,’ said the old woman.
‘But you must know how far away it is.’
‘Can’t say as I do,’ said the old woman.
‘Well, that’s where I’m going,’ said the traveller, and he set off, shaking his head at the ignorance of country folk.
Well, he walked for an hour, and he walked for two hours, and he walked for three hours – up hill and down hill. And when he looked up at the castle, it seemed not an inch closer.
‘Bless my soul!’ said the traveller. ‘I must be walking round it in circles, for I’m certainly not getting any nearer!’ So he left the road, and headed off across the fields straight for the castle.
Well, he’d been walking for another hour or so when he found himself entering a dark and gloomy forest. He got a firm grip on his staff, and took out his great knife, in case he met with any bears or wolves. Then on he went through the forest.
At first he followed a path, but it soon petered out, and the forest grew thicker and the undergrowth grew denser until he was forced to cut his way through with his knife. At length, however, the forest began to thin out again and he began to see the light shining through the trees once more, and he knew he was getting to the other side. But when he finally stepped out from the forest and looked up, he couldn’t believe his eyes: there was the castle on the hill above him, but not one inch closer than it had been before.
The traveller redoubled his efforts, and walked as fast as he could until night fell, and he was still no nearer his goal. Wearily he wrapped himself up in his cloak and lay down to sleep.
Hardly had he shut his eyes, when he heard a voice say: ‘You’d better give up, you know.’
He turned round, and found the old woman sitting up in a tree.
‘I shan’t give up!’ cried the traveller. ‘I’ll reach that castle tomorrow – you’ll see!’
‘I suppose I shall,’ said the old woman, ‘but remember what I told you.’ And with that she folded up like black paper, into a bat that flew out of the branches and away into the night.
The traveller lay down to sleep again, and he dreamt he could hear elfin music, borne faintly upon the breeze, all the time he slept.
The next day, he woke up, and there, sure enough, was the castle sitting above him on the hill – not very far away at all.
‘I can reach that by lunchtime!’ he cried, and he seized his staff, put his pack on his back, and walked as hard and as fast as he could. And all the time, he never once took his eyes off that castle.
But lunchtime came, and still he was no nearer. No matter what path he took or how fast he went, it made not a scrap of difference. By supper-time, he was still no nearer the castle.
He sat down with his head between his hands, and heaved a big sigh.
‘That castle’s enchanted,’ he said to himself. ‘The old woman was right – I might as well give up trying.’ And he got to his feet and walked round the corner, and there – to his amazement – was the castle, and the little old woman was sitting outside it.
‘Ah!’ she cried. ‘So you gave up trying at last, did you? It’s the only way to get here, though no one ever believes it.’
And with that she opened the door of the castle, and the traveller went in.
DR BONOCOLUS’S DEVIL
DR BONOCOLUS WAS A VERY CLEVER MAN. He lived a long time ago in a distant land. He was very proud of his learning, and he enjoyed performing in public debates, where he could show how much cleverer he was than anyone else.
One day, however, Dr Bonocolus decided to sell his soul to the Devil. He read in a big book a certain number of magic spells, and late that night, he lit a candle in his study, drew some lines on the floor and summoned the Devil to appear before him. There was a flash and a puff of smoke and the smell of brimstone and, for just a moment, he thought he could hear the roaring of hell-fire. But before he could change his mind, there in front of him stood a short gentleman in grey with a pen tucked behind his ear.
‘You’re not the Devil!’ cried Dr Bonocolus.
‘Er … no,’ replied the figure in grey. ‘The Devil is extremely busy at this moment in time. I’m his official representative. Now, if you’d just like to give me your details, we can get on with the sale.’ And he opened a large leather book that he was carrying.
‘Wait a moment!’ said Dr Bonocolus. ‘I wanted to see the Devil himself! I don’t want to sell my soul to some half-witted underling!’
‘The Devil does apologize, most sincerely,’ said the gentleman in grey, ‘but it’s all a question of feasibility. If you don’t want to do the deal with me, that’s quite understandable – but we’ll just have to let the sale go. We have more than enough to choose from as it is. It’s a buyer’s market at the moment, you know.’
In the end, Dr Bonocolus agreed to sell his soul to the Devil’s representative on what seemed very favourable terms. For thirty years, the Devil would give Dr Bonocolus unlimited wealth, fame and magical powers. At the end of thirty years, Dr Bonocolus would have to sit and play backgammon with the Devil for ever.
Dr Bonocolus made a cut on his arm, and was just about to sign in his own blood when the Devil’s representative stopped him. He looked around rather furtively and then lowered his voice and said: ‘Look … officially, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but … well, are you quite sure you know what you’re doing?’
‘Of course I am!’ said Dr Bonocolus. ‘You forget I’m the cleverest man in the world! I’ve thought out exactly what I will do with my thirty years, and after that the Devil can torture me as much as he likes. I’ve worked it out as a mathematical equation and the worst pain he could inflict on me will not outweigh the amount of pleasure I will be able to cram into thirty years!’
‘He may not torture you,’ said the Devil’s representative.
‘Then so much the better!’ said Dr Bonocolus.
‘It may be much worse than torture.’
‘Impossible!’ cried Dr Bonocolus. ‘I’ve thought about every conceivable thing, he could do to me, and I’m prepared for anything.’
The Devil’s representative glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice even more. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I know you’re the cleverest man in the world right now but, no matter what you’ve imagined, I can tell you it will be worse.’
‘I can’t believe it!’ said Dr Bonocolus, and he dipped his pen into the blood from his arm, and signed his name in the big book and on two contracts. Then the Devil’s representative went away, and for thirty years Dr Bonocolus became not only the cleverest man in the world, but also the richest and the most respected and the most admired. Naturally he told no-one about his deal with the Devil, and everywhere he was revered for the brilliance of his mind, the sharpness of his wit, and the depth of his understanding. He lea
rnt every language in the world, and there was no branch of science or art at which he did not become a master.
Finally, though, his thirty years were up, and he had to go down to Hell to face the Devil, who was now his master. He had prepared himself well for his ordeal, however. He had studied every existing portrait of the Devil, and had steeped himself in every picture of evil, ugliness and horror in order that he would not be aghast at the Devil’s appearance.
As he was taken down into Hell by numerous nasty little creatures who pulled his hair and tugged his clothes, he felt quite cheerful and confident that he could cope with the worst that the Devil could do. To tell the truth, he felt quite proud of himself, for he had been master of the world while he lived, and now he was prepared to submit to one who was greater than himself. Indeed, he flattered himself that the Devil might well appreciate his fine wit and intelligence, and even find some use for his talents.
At length, Dr Bonocolus was brought to the Devil’s audience chamber. The Devil’s throne was standing there empty, surrounded by a host of ugly creatures so evil in their appearance that even Dr Bonocolus began to feel uneasy.
Then a scaly monster, whose smell was so loathsome that it made the Doctor feel sick, slouched towards the throne, and put out a grasping hand towards the Doctor, so that he suddenly trembled and was gripped by a fear of something unimaginable. And an unearthly voice croaked: ‘Dr Bonocolus … prepare to meet the Devil himself!’
Even Dr Bonocolus felt a little weak at the knees and a little apprehensive, remembering what the Devil’s representative had said to him all those years ago: ‘No matter what you’ve imagined … it will be worse.’
Suddenly there was a flash, and the throne was engulfed in smoke. Dr Bonocolus braced himself and then there he was – face to face with the Devil… his new master. Dr Bonocolus’s jaw dropped, and he went cold with horror. The Devil’s representative had been right, of course … but it wasn’t the hideousness of the Devil’s features, nor even the cold brutality of that face that was worse than any torture to Dr Bonocolus. It was the appalling realization, as he gazed into the Devil’s eyes, that the Devil was clearly stupid.
‘Of course!’ cried Dr Bonocolus. ‘It’s so obvious!’ But it was too late. The cleverest man in the world had sold his soul to a fool.
THE BOAT THAT WENT NOWHERE
ONCE UPON A TIME A POOR WIDOW HAD A SON called Tom, whom she loved very much. But she was so poor that there was often not enough food in the house, and young Tom was often hungry. One day in the middle of winter, when the pond was frozen over and icicles hung from the hedges, Tom’s mother went to the larder and said: ‘There is nothing at all to eat. Whatever shall we do?’ and she sat down and wept.
‘Don’t cry, Mother,’ said Tom, ‘I’ll go and seek my fortune and bring back enough money so you will never have to worry again.’ And he tied his only pair of boots up in a handkerchief and set off to seek his fortune.
He hadn’t gone very far before he came to a great house with huge gates and beautiful gardens and fountains. ‘There must be a lot of money here,’ thought Tom to himself. ‘I’m sure I’ll be able to earn enough in this place so that my mother will never go short again.’ So he walked boldly up to the great house and knocked at the door.
A little old man in black answered the door and said: ‘What do you want?’ When Tom told him, the little old man looked very angry and said: ‘There’s no money for you here!’ and set a dog on poor Tom that chased him off.
Well, he travelled on until at length he came to a city, where a rich merchant lived. He knocked on the door of the rich merchant’s house, and a fat man in a wig asked: ‘What do you want?’
‘I want to earn some money so that my mother will not go hungry again.’
‘Very well, you can work here,’ said the fat man, and led Tom out into the garden at the back of the house.
‘All you have to do,’ he said, ‘is to climb into the sack that hangs from that tree over there and stay in it for a year and a day.’
‘What’s the point of that?’ asked Tom.
‘Never you mind,’ said the fat man in the wig. ‘I’ll pay you more money than you’ve ever had in your life and feed you well into the bargain.’
‘Very well,’ said Tom and climbed into the sack. But just as night fell, and Tom was growing very bored and wondering how on earth he was going to last out a whole year in that sack, an owl settled on the branch above him and cried: ‘Towit-to-woo, to wit-to-woo.’ But it seemed to Tom that it was saying: ‘You’ll sit life through! You’ll sit life through!’
‘He’s right!’ cried Tom. ‘I won’t make my mother happy by wasting my life in this sack! I’ll find some better way of getting rich.’ And he jumped down from the sack and walked out of the garden into the night.
It was very cold and dark and a little frightening, but he thought to himself: ‘I must keep going.’ Eventually he saw a fire glowing in the distance. ‘Ah, I shall at least be able to warm myself there,’ he said.
When he reached the fire, he found it was a roaring furnace, and there was a huge man, stripped to the waist and sweating as he shovelled coal into the furnace as hard as he could.
‘May I warm myself by your fire?’ asked Tom. The man didn’t answer, but he kept on shovelling the coal.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Tom.
The man paused for a moment and looked at Tom and said: ‘I’m earning more money than you’ve ever set eyes on!’
‘May I help you?’ asked Tom.
‘You can take over just as soon as I finish,’ said the man.
‘When will that be?’ asked Tom.
‘Oh, not long,’ said the man. ‘I just have to finish feeding the fire, and then climb to the top of the chimney, and I’m done.’ So Tom sat down on the grass to wait his turn, and by and by he fell fast asleep.
When he woke up it was broad daylight, and the huge man was still busy shovelling away as hard as ever.
‘When do you finish feeding the fire?’ asked Tom.
‘When it’s had enough,’ replied the man without stopping.
‘But a fire can never have enough!’ said Tom, and just then he noticed that the furnace was at the bottom of a chimney that had steps running round and round all the way up the outside. And Tom looked up and up, and he saw that the chimney went straight up into the sky – for ever – as if it had no top.
‘I’m afraid I can’t wait for you to finish,’ said Tom, and he picked up his pack and set off again. And he walked down to the harbour, where the great ships lay at anchor, and he asked to be taken on. But everywhere they told him he was too young and too small to be of any use on a great ship.
At length, however, he came to a queer little boat, smaller than the rest and painted red and white. The captain was leaning over the side, and so Tom said: ‘Could you use another hand?’
‘Aye,’ said the captain.
‘Where are you going?’ asked Tom.
‘Nowhere,’ said the captain.
‘Well, I’ll get nowhere if I stay here, so I might as well go with you,’ said Tom and he climbed aboard.
Straight away the captain ordered the sails to be set and the anchor weighed and that little boat set off on the high seas. And the winds blew it along until it was out of sight of land, and they sailed into the setting sun. How many days and how many nights they sailed for, I don’t know, but one morning there was a shout: ‘Land ahoy!’
And they all looked over the side of the boat and there, sure enough, was a beautiful country with tall mountains. And as they got closer they saw that the mountains were shining white with red tops. And as they got closer still, they saw that they weren’t mountains at all, but huge cities reaching up to the clouds.
‘Where are we?’ cried Tom.
‘Nowhere,’ said the captain, and they all got out.
Tom couldn’t believe his eyes. On each side of them were flowerbeds full of flowers, and each one of their petals was a pound note
. In front of them stretched a lawn down to a river of pure silver. When he looked at the trees they were made out of solid gold and the leaves were emeralds, and everywhere piles of precious jewels lay around for the taking. ‘We’re rich!’ he cried.
‘You haven’t seen anything yet,’ smiled the captain, and they all set off for the great city that glittered and shone before them. As they walked, birds flew above them, dropping pearls and rubies into their upturned hats, and wild deer ran up to them and laid golden sticks at their feet.
Eventually they reached the gates of the shining city, and the captain pulled on a golden chain.
A peal of bells rang out in welcome and a boy opened the door wide and said: ‘We are glad to see you in the Forgotten City, come in,’ and took them into a pure white square, where the sound of laughter echoed all around. And before Tom could blink, a table had been set out for them with all the food they could eat and all the wine they could drink. And the townspeople brought them presents and played them music, and gave up their own beds so that the travellers should sleep well.
And there they stayed for many weeks, until at length Tom said: ‘I must go back to my mother.’
The captain said: ‘Very well! Take the boat.’
‘But what about you and the others?’ asked Tom.
‘That’s all right,’ said the captain, ‘we can easily get another.’ So Tom loaded, up the boat with all the gold and silver and jewels he could carry and set off back across the ocean.
Well, he hadn’t sailed very far before he was caught in a terrible dark storm. The waters raged and the little boat was tossed here and there until at length it took on so much water that it sank to the bottom of the sea. And Tom went down too, until a dolphin came up and put him on its back and swam with him until they got to the very river that ran past his own home.
Tom was still as poor as ever but, when he saw his mother, he smiled and said: ‘Well, I have discovered that nobody with money will part with it, unless I waste my life away, and that those whose only desire is wealth will never rest content, and that the only place where there is enough for all and everyone is kind and generous is Nowhere. So, Mother, what shall I do?’