The Orange Fairy Book (4 page)

'It does not taste at all nice,' he cried, screwing up his face; 'I
would rather have one of the yellow ones.'

'No! no! I really could not allow that,' answered Gudu. 'They would
only make you ill. Be content with the green fruit.' And as they were
all he could get, Isuro was forced to put up with them.

After this had happened two or three times, Isuro at last had his eyes
opened, and made up his mind that, whatever Gudu told him, he would do
exactly the opposite. However, by this time they had reached the
village where dwelt Gudu's future wife, and as they entered Gudu
pointed to a clump of bushes, and said to Isuro: 'Whenever I am eating,
and you hear me call out that my food has burnt me, run as fast as you
can and gather some of those leaves that they may heal my mouth.'

The rabbit would have liked to ask him why he ate food that he knew
would burn him, only he was afraid, and just nodded in reply; but when
they had gone on a little further, he said to Gudu:

'I have dropped my needle; wait here a moment while I go and fetch it.'

'Be quick then,' answered Gudu, climbing into a tree. And the rabbit
hastened back to the bushes, and gathered a quantity of the leaves,
which he hid among his fur, 'For,' thought he, 'if I get them now I
shall save myself the trouble of a walk by-and-by.'

When he had plucked as many as he wanted he returned to Gudu, and they
went on together.

The sun was almost setting by the time they reached their journey's
end and being very tired they gladly sat down by a well. Then Gudu's
betrothed, who had been watching for him, brought out a pitcher of
water—which she poured over them to wash off the dust of the road—and
two portions of food. But once again the rabbit's hopes were dashed to
the ground, for Gudu said hastily:

'The custom of the village forbids you to eat till I have finished.'
And Isuro did not know that Gudu was lying, and that he only wanted
more food. So he saw hungrily looking on, waiting till his friend had
had enough.

In a little while Gudu screamed loudly: 'I am burnt! I am burnt!'
though he was not burnt at all. Now, though Isuro had the leaves about
him, he did not dare to produce them at the last moment lest the baboon
should guess why he had stayed behind. So he just went round a corner
for a short time, and then came hopping back in a great hurry. But,
quick though he was, Gudu had been quicker still, and nothing remained
but some drops of water.

'How unlucky you are,' said Gudu, snatching the leaves; 'no sooner had
you gone than ever so many people arrived, and washed their hands, as
you see, and ate your portion.' But, though Isuro knew better than to
believe him, he said nothing, and went to bed hungrier than he had ever
been in his life.

Early next morning they started for another village, and passed on the
way a large garden where people were very busy gathering monkey- nuts.

'You can have a good breakfast at last,' said Gudu, pointing to a heap
of empty shells; never doubting but that Isuro would meekly take the
portion shown him, and leave the real nuts for himself. But what was
his surprise when Isuro answered:

'Thank you; I think I should prefer these.' And, turning to the
kernels, never stopped as long as there was one left. And the worst of
it was that, with so many people about, Gudu could not take the nuts
from him.

It was night when they reached the village where dwelt the mother of
Gudu's betrothed, who laid meat and millet porridge before them.

'I think you told me you were fond of porridge,' said Gudu; but Isuro
answered: 'You are mistaking me for somebody else, as I always eat meat
when I can get it.' And again Gudu was forced to be content with the
porridge, which he hated.

While he was eating it, however a sudden thought darted into his mind,
and he managed to knock over a great pot of water which was hanging in
front of the fire, and put it quite out.

'Now,' said the cunning creature to himself, 'I shall be able in the
dark to steal his meat!' But the rabbit had grown as cunning as he,
and standing in a corner hid the meat behind him, so that the baboon
could not find it.

'O Gudu!' he cried, laughing aloud, 'it is you who have taught me to be
clever.' And calling to the people of the house, he bade them kindle
the fire, for Gudu would sleep by it, but that he would pass the night
with some friends in another hut.

It was still quite dark when Isuro heard his name called very softly,
and, on opening his eyes, beheld Gudu standing by him. Laying his
finger on his nose, in token of silence, he signed to Isuro to get up
and follow him, and it was not until they were some distance from the
hut that Gudu spoke.

'I am hungry and want something to eat better than that nasty porridge
that I had for supper. So I am going to kill one of those goats, and
as you are a good cook you must boil the flesh for me.' The rabbit
nodded, and Gudu disappeared behind a rock, but soon returned dragging
the dead goat with him. The two then set about skinning it, after
which they stuffed the skin with dried leaves, so that no one would
have guessed it was not alive, and set it up in the middle of a lump of
bushes, which kept it firm on its feet. While he was doing this, Isuro
collected sticks for a fire, and when it was kindled, Gudu hastened to
another hut to steal a pot which he filled with water from the river,
and, planting two branches in the ground, they hung the pot with the
meat in it over the fire.

'It will not be fit to eat for two hours at least,' said Gudu, 'so we
can both have a nap.' And he stretched himself out on the ground, and
pretended to fall fast asleep, but, in reality, he was only waiting
till it was safe to take all the meat for himself. 'Surely I hear him
snore,' he thought; and he stole to the place where Isuro was lying on
a pile of wood, but the rabbit's eyes were wide open.

'How tiresome,' muttered Gudu, as he went back to his place; and after
waiting a little longer he got up, and peeped again, but still the
rabbit's pink eyes stared widely. If Gudu had only known, Isuro was
asleep all the time; but this he never guessed, and by-and- bye he grew
so tired with watching that he went to sleep himself. Soon after,
Isuro woke up, and he too felt hungry, so he crept softly to the pot
and ate all the meat, while he tied the bones together and hung them in
Gudu's fur. After that he went back to the wood-pile and slept again.

In the morning the mother of Gudu's betrothed came out to milk her
goats, and on going to the bushes where the largest one seemed
entangled, she found out the trick. She made such lament that the
people of the village came running, and Gudu and Isuro jumped up also,
and pretended to be as surprised and interested as the rest. But they
must have looked guilty after all, for suddenly an old man pointed to
them, and cried:

'Those are thieves.' And at the sound of his voice the big Gudu
trembled all over.

'How dare you say such things? I defy you to prove it,' answered Isuro
boldly. And he danced forward, and turned head over heels, and shook
himself before them all.

'I spoke hastily; you are innocent,' said the old man; 'but now let the
baboon do likewise.' And when Gudu began to jump the goat's bones
rattled and the people cried: 'It is Gudu who is the goat-slayer!' But
Gudu answered:

'Nay, I did not kill your goat; it was Isuro, and he ate the meat, and
hung the bones round my neck. So it is he who should die!' And the
people looked at each other, for they knew not what to believe. At
length one man said:

'Let them both die, but they may choose their own deaths.'

Then Isuro answered:

'If we must die, put us in the place where the wood is cut, and heap it
up all round us, so that we cannot escape, and set fire to the wood;
and if one is burned and the other is not, then he that is burned is
the goat- slayer.'

And the people did as Isuro had said. But Isuro knew of a hole under
the wood-pile, and when the fire was kindled he ran into the hole, but
Gudu died there.

When the fire had burned itself out and only ashes were left where the
wood had been, Isuro came out of his hole, and said to the people:

'Lo! did I not speak well? He who killed your goat is among those
ashes.'

(Mashona Story.)

There dwelt a knight in Grianaig of the land of the West, who had three
daughters, and for goodness and beauty they had not their like in all
the isles. All the people loved them, and loud was the weeping when
one day, as the three maidens sat on the rocks on the edge of the sea,
dipping their feet in the water, there arose a great beast from under
the waves and swept them away beneath the ocean. And none knew whither
they had gone, or how to seek them.

Now there lived in a town a few miles off a soldier who had three sons,
fine youths and strong, and the best players at shinny in that country.
At Christmastide that year, when families met together and great
feasts were held, Ian, the youngest of the three brothers, said:

'Let us have a match at shinny on the lawn of the knight of Grianaig,
for his lawn is wider and the grass smoother than ours.'

But the others answered:

'Nay, for he is in sorrow, and he will think of the games that we have
played there when his daughters looked on.'

'Let him be pleased or angry as he will,' said Ian; 'we will drive our
ball on his lawn to-day.'

And so it was done, and Ian won three games from his brothers. But the
knight looked out of his window, and was wroth; and bade his men bring
the youths before him. When he stood in his hall and beheld them, his
heart was softened somewhat; but his face was angry as he asked:

'Why did you choose to play shinny in front of my castle when you knew
full well that the remembrance of my daughters would come back to me?
The pain which you have made me suffer you shall suffer also.'

'Since we have done you wrong,' answered Ian, the youngest, 'build us a
ship, and we will go and seek your daughters. Let them be to windward,
or to leeward, or under the four brown boundaries of the sea, we will
find them before a year and a day goes by, and will carry them back to
Grianaig.'

In seven days the ship was built, and great store of food and wine
placed in her. And the three brothers put her head to the sea and
sailed away, and in seven days the ship ran herself on to a beach of
white sand, and they all went ashore. They had none of them ever seen
that land before, and looked about them. Then they saw that, a short
way from them, a number of men were working on a rock, with one man
standing over them.

'What place is this?' asked the eldest brother. And the man who was
standing by made answer:

'This is the place where dwell the three daughters of the knight of
Grianaig, who are to be wedded to-morrow to three giants.'

'How can we find them?' asked the young man again. And the overlooker
answered:

'To reach the daughters of the knight of Grianaig you must get into
this basket, and be drawn by a rope up the face of this rock.'

'Oh, that is easily done,' said the eldest brother, jumping into the
basket, which at once began to move—up, and up, and up—till he had
gone about half-way, when a fat black raven flew at him and pecked him
till he was nearly blind, so that he was forced to go back the way he
had come.

After that the second brother got into the creel; but he fared no
better, for the raven flew upon him, and he returned as his brother had
done.

'Now it is my turn,' said Ian. But when he was halfway up the raven
set upon him also.

'Quick! quick!' cried Ian to the men who held the rope. 'Quick! quick!
or I shall be blinded!' And the men pulled with all their might, and in
another moment Ian was on top, and the raven behind him.

'Will you give me a piece of tobacco?' asked the raven, who was now
quite quiet.

'You rascal! Am I to give you tobacco for trying to peck my eyes out?'
answered Ian.

'That was part of my duty,' replied the raven; 'but give it to me, and
I will prove a good friend to you.' So Ian broke off a piece of
tobacco and gave it to him. The raven hid it under his wing, and then
went on; 'Now I will take you to the house of the big giant, where the
knight's daughter sits sewing, sewing, till even her thimble is wet
with tears.' And the raven hopped before him till they reached a large
house, the door of which stood open. They entered and passed through
one hall after the other, until they found the knight's daughter, as
the bird had said.

'What brought you here?' asked she. And Ian made answer:

'Why may I not go where you can go?'

'I was brought hither by a giant,' replied she.

'I know that,' said Ian; 'but tell me where the giant is, that I may
find him.'

'He is on the hunting hill,' answered she; 'and nought will bring him
home save a shake of the iron chain which hangs outside the gate. But,
there, neither to leeward, nor to windward, nor in the four brown
boundaries of the sea, is there any man that can hold battle against
him, save only Ian, the soldier's son, and he is now but sixteen years
old, and how shall he stand against the giant?'

'In the land whence I have come there are many men with the strength of
Ian,' answered he. And he went outside and pulled at the chain, but he
could not move it, and fell on to his knees. At that he rose swiftly,
and gathering up his strength, he seized the chain, and this time he
shook it so that the link broke. And the giant heard it on the hunting
hill, and lifted his head, thinking—

'It sounds like the noise of Ian, the soldier's son,' said he; 'but as
yet he is only sixteen years old. Still, I had better look to it.'
And home he came.