Dark Fairy Tales of Fearless Women E-Book

Rosalind Kerven

• Herausgeber: Batsford
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 150

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

 Enter a world in which magic exists, hope wins and every woman's heart is alive with courage!   This global feast of ancient tales features valiant women overcoming every kind of obstacle and danger to fulfil their destinies. Travel through Africa, Asia, Europe, the Middle East, North America and the Pacific. Shudder, cheer and laugh out loud as the heroines deal with trolls, faeries, dragons and ghosts; admire their knowledge, wit and cunning; marvel at shapeshifting and other manifestations of the supernatural.  A rich collection of fairy tales, beautifully illustrated throughout with Joe McClaren woodcuts, this book is stitched together like a series of Scheherazade stories. It is story-telling at its best, pitch perfect fairy tales of fearless women for readers everywhere.

Leseprobe

Contents

Welcome!

The Riddles Central Asia

Fire Woman Hawaii

The Stolen Baby Scotland

The Flying Head Native American

Bandits! India

Destiny Lesotho

The Mountain of Enchantments Iran

The Troll Iceland

Revenge Alaska

The Dragon China

The Power of Stories Arabia

The Stone Giant Argentina and Chile

The Birds Poland

The Ghost Nigeria

Shining Bamboo Japan

Notes and Sources

Welcome!

The curtains are drawn, and the candles are lit; the fire’s banked up to a warmth of glowing embers. Come in, come inside to dream. Everyone is welcome! Take a seat, put aside your work, shrug off your love pangs and family worries. For grandmothers and wise women, old wives and young wanderers, have all gathered here from around the globe to share their wonderful stories.

Are you comfortable? Do you yearn for a world in which magic exists, hope wins and every woman’s heart is alive with courage? Then let us begin!

The Riddles

Central Asia

Come to the very centre of the world, where north meets south and east meets west. Oho! What is that sinister, foul-smelling monster swaggering out of a graveyard? It’s a feaster on corpses, a ghoul.

The ghoul slunk through backstreets and alleys, cackling to himself in a vapour of gloom. At the royal palace, he shoved the guards out of the way and burst in upon the king. ‘I have arrived!’ he hissed. ‘I have come to seize your realm and devour all your people.’

The king was shocked and appalled. ‘W-w-well, now,’ he stuttered, ‘let me see … harrumph … er … Is there any way to change your mind?’

The ghoul guffawed. ‘Well, king, seeing as you’re so feeble, I’ll give you a chance – but only because I know you’ll waste it. So, listen carefully. If someone comes to me, not on foot, not on horseback or in a cart – and if that person is neither clothed nor naked – and if they beg for mercy while they are neither indoors nor outside – then I might consider letting you off.’

‘But that’s nonsense,’ objected the king. ‘All those stipulations are contradictions.’

The ghoul smirked. ‘I’m only giving you a single chance, king – so make sure you get it right.’ With those words, he vanished into the air like a bad dream.

•••

You can well imagine what happened next. The king summoned councils of his most learned men to discuss the crisis. They, in turn, appointed numerous sub-committees to consider the meaning of the ultimatum and draw up mathematical models of how to meet it. Rich men were cajoled to donate to a special fund to research and develop the impossible. The army stockpiled weapons, although the ghoul was as impossible to fight as a skittering mosquito. Messengers travelled the length and breadth of the country, offering a vast reward to any man or boy, lord or peasant, who could solve the ghoul’s perplexing challenge.

Meanwhile, all the women and girls were ordered to stay indoors – both for their own safety, and so as not to disturb the men’s vital work.

•••

Gossip about the ghoul soon reached the ears of a scruffy young market woman. She couldn’t believe what she heard.

‘Ma, Pa,’ she said to her folks, ‘it’s heartbreaking: all those committees and weapons are completely pointless. I know exactly how to meet the ghoul’s demands. I’d better dash across to the palace straightaway and tell the king.’

‘Good for you, daughter,’ said her mother.

But her father scolded her. ‘There you go again, with your nonsense. Get it into your head, girly: females are too stupid to understand matters of state. Besides, the king’s only interested in beautiful noblewomen; he won’t see a ragbag like you.’

The young woman ignored him and hurried out. First she went to the scrublands outside the city walls, where the paupers kept their flocks of mangy goats. ‘Here, biddy, biddy,’ she called softly, and held out a crust of bread. A goat trotted up to take it. She spoke to it soothingly, slipped a rope round its neck and led it away, docile as a puppy, to her family shack. There she tethered it, went inside, took off all her clothes and draped one of her father’s old fishing nets over her scraggy body.

‘Ew, you’re not walking around half-naked like that!’ her mother cried. But the young woman just giggled, went outside, got down on her knees, took up the rope, pushed the goat towards the palace and crawled after it.

When she arrived, she was pleased to find the palace door slightly ajar. ‘Watch!’ she called to the guards – and flung herself across the threshold.

‘Get up,’ the guards yelled at her. ‘Go away!’

But the young woman said, ‘Stop harassing me. Go and fetch that evil ghoul and tell him I’ve come to meet his challenge.’ She poked the goat to make it bleat and refused to quieten it or budge until she got her way.

So, the guards went to the throne room, where the ghoul was lounging around beside the king, helping himself to endless cups of wine. Solemnly, they announced the arrival of the young woman, and described how she was making a nuisance of herself. The king was mystified, but decided there was nothing to lose by taking the ghoul to see her. Smirking sceptically, the ghoul followed him to the palace door.

The young woman was still lying across the threshold, hands in the entrance hall, feet on the outer stone steps. She ignored the king but looked calmly up at the ghoul. ‘Good morning, sir,’ she said. ‘I trust this meets your specifications: I’m neither inside nor outside, and I’ve come to beg you for mercy.’

The ghoul glared at her and scowled. ‘That’s not good enough. You’ve got to fulfil all my conditions.’

‘But I already have,’ the young woman retorted. ‘I’m not wearing any clothes, am I? But I’m not naked either.’ She pulled up some strands of the net to show him.

The ghoul squatted down to peer at her more closely. It was true, she wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing. Yet, no matter how he leered, the net adequately covered her nakedness.

The ghoul said grudgingly, ‘But you’ve still only complied with two of my three conditions. Anyone can see you’re too poor to own a horse to ride here, or hire a cart, so you’ve obviously walked.’ He turned to the king. ‘Right, I gave you a single chance, and you’ve allowed this foolish girl to waste it. I’m going to seize your realm at once, and then I shall begin to eat all the inhabitants.’

‘Not so fast, ghoul,’ cried the young woman. ‘You’re right, I didn’t come here by horse or cart – but I didn’t come on foot either.’ She held up the end of the rope, which still encircled the goat’s neck. ‘As you can see, I’ve been dragged here on my knees by this animal. That’s all three of your conditions met. So scram! Leave this poor king alone.’

The king’s mouth dropped open.

The ghoul let out a bloodcurdling groan. ‘That was only my first test, you brat,’ he spat at her. ‘There’s more to come. I’m going to set you three impossible riddles. If you fail to answer them, I shall carry out my threats.’

‘Oh, I love riddles,’ said the young woman cheerfully, getting to her feet and standing face to face before the hideous ghoul. ‘Go ahead.’

‘Number one,’ said the ghoul. ‘How many stars are in the sky?’

‘Easy,’ said the young woman. ‘There are as many stars in the sky as there are hairs on a ghoul’s head.’

‘That’s a stupid answer,’ said the ghoul. ‘You’ll never be able to prove it.’

‘Yes, I will,’ said the young woman. ‘As soon as the stars come out tonight, I’ll start reckoning them up for you, and keep a tally by pulling out one of your hairs for each star I count.’

The ghoul looked queasy. ‘Number two,’ he said hastily. ‘How far is it from here to the end of the earth?’

‘Everyone knows that,’ said the young woman with an impatient sigh. ‘It’s exactly the same distance as the return journey from the end of the earth to here.’

‘Well … that’s true,’ the ghoul had to admit. ‘Now then. The first two riddles were just simple ones to lure you into a false sense of security. I’m confident you’ll never answer my third riddle: How high is the sky?’

‘Exactly as high as a ghoul can kick himself,’ said the young woman at once.

‘That’s not a proper answer,’ said the ghoul.

‘Oh, yes it is,’ said the young woman. ‘If you think I’m wrong, all you have to do is try it.’

‘Er … No, I don’t think I need to,’ said the ghoul. He fell silent for a long moment. ‘Hmm, I can see you’re a very clever person; though not nearly as clever as me.’

‘Want a bet?’ said the young woman. ‘All right then, you answer my riddle. Do you know what an invincible monster like you should fear most from a weak woman like me?’

‘Nothing,’ said the ghoul disparagingly.

‘Are you sure?’ said the young woman. ‘Well, sir, the answer is my cunning. You obviously haven’t seen enough of it yet.’

The ghoul was outraged. ‘You answer me back as if you think you’re my equal,’ he shrieked. ‘Well, listen to me, you maggot, I’ve had enough of you – and I’ve had enough of delaying too. It’s time for me to take over this kingdom and devour all its inhabitants – starting with you.’

Faced with such a threat, the young woman had nothing to lose. So she said brazenly, ‘Destroy us all, eh? Well, I shall destroy you first!’

‘But I am indestructible,’ boasted the ghoul.

‘Are you sure?’ said the young woman. ‘I don’t believe anything in the world is indestructible, except maybe the mountains. Surely even you have some kind of weakness.’

The ghoul grinned imperiously. ‘What you might define as my “weakness” is, in fact, a strength. Indeed, there is a way I could be overcome – but you will never guess what it is. I am invulnerable by both day and night. Metal and rope cannot harm me, nor can poison, nor stone, nor fire, nor water. Only one kind of creature could manage to kill me. It’s neither man nor beast, and it would first have to offer me a gift which is also not a gift. And when it approached me it would have to be neither eating, nor fasting.’

‘I can see that presents quite a problem to your enemies,’ said the young woman thoughtfully. ‘Well, ghoul, we’ve had a most interesting day together, haven’t we? I’ll bid you goodnight for now, and let’s both see what happens tomorrow.’ With that, she hurried off.

The ghoul had been looking forward to vanquishing the king and guzzling up his subjects. He was greatly put out to realize that this nobody had managed to delay his plans. Moreover, she had worn him out with arguing. So he told the king he needed a good rest to prepare his appetite for the next day. He swaggered back to the graveyard and nibbled a few corpses there, then climbed up a tree and fell asleep.

•••

Some time later, as the night was starting to thin into dawn, the young woman walked into the graveyard. ‘Wake up, ghoul!’ she called. ‘It’s twilight – neither day nor night – time for you to meet your doom.’

‘Who’s there?’ the ghoul called back sleepily. ‘Are you man or beast? Not that it matters, since neither kind can kill me.’

‘I’m neither,’ she replied. ‘I’m a woman. Look, just as you requested, I’ve brought you a gift which isn’t a gift.’ She showed him her hand, in which she was holding a little bird. As the ghoul reached out to snatch it, she let go, and the bird fluttered away.

‘You can’t trick me so easily,’ the ghoul snapped. ‘I can see you’re not eating at the moment, so you must be fasting.’

‘No, I’m not,’ said the young woman. She poked out her tongue, revealing a piece of bark balanced on the middle of it. ‘I’ve got this in my mouth, but I’m not swallowing it.’

With these cunning words, the young woman achieved her goal – using neither metal nor rope, nor poison, nor stone, nor fire, nor water. For the ghoul was so outraged that he toppled out of the tree and went crashing to the ground – annihilated forever by her cunning and his own fury.

Fire Woman

Hawaii

In the heart of the island, fire smouldered.

Above the fire, a mountain loomed.

At the top of the mountain, smoke billowed out.

Within the smoke, stood an old, old woman.

There was a deafening racket in the valley below. For mighty Chief Kahawali had organized a sled-racing championship on the mountainside; hordes of spectators were shouting, clapping and laughing raucously, alongside a rumpus of musicians, wrestlers, boxers and dancers.

The old woman shuddered at the noise. She cursed angrily and began to stomp down the mountain just as Chief Kahawali came striding up from the opposite direction, dragging his sled for the next race. She stepped directly in front of him and blocked his path.

‘Move up, there,’ he said brusquely.

She did not budge. ‘Young man,’ she said, ‘I want to race you.’

Kahawali burst out laughing. ‘You?’ he cried. ‘A puny, hunched old crone with arms like string? Get out of my way!’

The old woman glared at him, long and hard. Then she saw another chief, Ahua, lingering at Kahawali’s side. She turned to him and said, ‘Help me expose this braggart. Lend me your sled.’

‘Of course, madam,’ Ahua said gallantly, and put his sled in her gnarled hands.

‘Right, Kahawali, let’s go!’ she cried.

Kahawali sneered, but Ahua persuaded him to humour her. So the proud, brawny chief and the bent old woman ran side by side up the mountain, like any other contestants. At the top, both threw themselves headlong onto their sleds, then hurtled down the steep, grassy slope.

At first, to the gawping crowd’s surprise, they seemed evenly matched. But then the old woman lost her grip and her balance; her sled toppled over and sent her flying. The spectators groaned in sympathy. Kahawali continued smoothly to the bottom and leaped nimbly to his feet. But as he raised his fists to acknowledge the cheers, he was astonished to see that the old woman had beaten him there, showing no signs of her recent violent tumble.

‘That wasn’t a fair contest, Kahawali,’ she screeched. Her voice carried loudly across the landscape, humiliating the great chief. ‘Your friend only agreed to lend me his sled because it is faulty – whereas yours, of course, is perfect.’ She turned to the crowd. ‘He’s been manipulating all the other races in the same way.’

‘You are a liar, you hag!’ Kahawali roared.

‘Really?’ said the old woman. ‘Well, Kahawali, prove you haven’t been cheating, by swapping sleds with me. I challenge you to another race. This time, you use Ahua’s sled, and I will use yours.’

‘How dare you suggest such a thing?’ Kahawali retorted. ‘Everyone knows that this sled is my most treasured possession. Even my close kin – even my own wife – would not dare ask to borrow it; and you are just a pathetic nobody. Get out of my way!’

To make his point, he sprinted back to the summit, hurled himself onto the sled and sped down again – aiming it straight at her.

The old woman’s face darkened. Her eyes shimmered like red-hot coals. She stamped hard, one foot, then the other. The sound reverberated right across the island. The ground quaked violently. The smoke on the summit thickened and suddenly began to billow down the slopes.

The crowd screamed, backed away, spun round and scattered.

The old woman hitched up her skirts, dodged the chief’s sled and ran straight past it, through the fumes to the mountain peak. Something unearthly was happening: she had become as hazy as the smoke itself, shifting, fading, reshaping …

Thunder crackled. The top of the mountain tore right open. A stream of blood-coloured molten lava gushed out.

‘Aieee!’ An ear-splitting, eerie screech rent the air. The feeble crone was gone … yet she was still there. For she had transformed into her true self, become what she really was: Pele, sacred goddess of volcanic fire – and she was pursuing Kahawali!

Flames darted from her eyes. Black, choking smoke swirled in her hair. Amidst the murk and confusion, she had conjured up her own sled, and here she came on it – not lying headlong like the racers, but standing upright to catch the wind, speeding towards her sworn enemy. ‘Chase him!’ she urged the inferno. ‘Destroy him!’

Kahawali reached the foot of the mountain ahead of her. He leaped from his sled and raced away.

The lava reached the crowd of fleeing spectators and engulfed them all.

Still Kahawali sprinted on. He passed his mother wringing her hands outside their palace. ‘Away!’ he shouted, ‘Pele is devouring us!’ before abandoning her to her doom. He flashed past his wife and children, refusing their entreaties to wait so they could all die together. He stopped only when his favourite pig came galloping to him in panic – but Pele turned it to stone.