There is a monthly story telling night in Brighton called 'Are You Sitting Comfortably'. People submit their stories to the people that run the event (White Rabbit - http://www.thewhiterabbit.org.uk/). It's always themed, and if your story is chosen, it is then read aloud by one of the performers. It's a great evening; as well as listing to stories you get free cakes and sweeties, and the bar serves cocktails in teapots. Anyway, this month's theme is 'Tricks'. At work I have been doing a bit of work on a presentation for a kids' educational book together on the theme of 'Mythology'. One of the subjects that is on the US curriculum, I have discovered, is Native American Trickster tales. That gave me the idea to have a crack at writing my own version of a Native American Trickster tale for Are You Sitting Comfortably. So I did. And here it is.
Magpie and the Wolf King.
Gather in, my chicks, and I will tell you a story from when
the world was but a stripling; when the Wolf King ruled the earth with a
haughty eye, and mankind had not yet set a footprint in the soil. Come closer,
my dreamlets; gather in, and I will begin. This is a tale of Magpie, the
tricksiest of all creatures. Slippery as an elver he was, and false as fog. He
sweet-talked the stars from the sky, my petals, which is why the ripples
shimmer on a midnight lake, and he courted the singing wind who still yet moans
her heartbreak on a winter’s night.
But even the canniest creature has a blind spot, dreamlets,
and Magpie’s greed and vanity drew him into carelessness. Today you will come
to know how Magpie got his ebony and ivory plumes. Back in the yawning days,
the budding days of the world, Magpie’s feathers were all a pearly white, and
his beak as golden as corn stalks. All creatures admired him, for his milky
down, his handsome beak and his witty manners, though many rued him equally for
his charms.
None resented him more than the proud Wolf King, the ruler
of all the creatures, who saw Magpie’s favour among them as a menace to his
dominion. One evening at a meeting of the birds and animals, Magpie was recounting
how he had tricked the oak tree into giving up its golden acorn, which greatly
amused the squirrels. The Wolf King grew impatient with his boasting, and
snarled
‘Cease your prattling Magpie! I am the King of the Birds and
Beasts, none is more powerful than me! You hold your own cleverness in high
esteem, but it is I who is lord of all that I see!’
‘Why of course, Wolf King’, soothed Magpie, ‘You are king of
all that you see.’ The Wolf King sat back on his haunches, becalmed by the
bird’s buttery words.
‘But what of that you cannot see? You are lord of the day,
it cannot be denied, but what of the night? A fat moon may stretch your reign
beyond the twilight shore, but when she is cloaked in cloud, and nary a star
can be seen in the sky, what then? You can see nothing, and so are lord over
none.’
At this, the Wolf King flew into a rage; he howled and
snarled, scratched the dry earth, his amber eyes flashed and swivelled in their
sockets. But Magpie held his gaze, and for all the Wolf King’s chafing and champing,
he could not find an answer for the bird.
Why did Magpie provoke the king so, you may well ask, my
sweetlings. Why for no other reason but he could, and the fiendish creature
spied an opportunity for mischief, and for personal gain.
‘How can I become lord of the night?’ the wolf cried, in
grudging assent of the truth of Magpie’s words.
‘Well,’ said Magpie, ‘you must make a bargain with the
spirit of the shadows. Only he can grant you the power of sight, when there are
no twinkling stars or bright suns to see by.’
‘Where can I find him?’
‘You must wait until nightfall, and journey up, up, up the
mountain, to where the mist meets the trees, and robes their branches with
hoary lace. You must then howl three times at the moon, and if the spirit of
the shadows is favourable, you may strike a bargain with him. But be warned
that the power to see without light comes at a great price.’
‘I am willing to pay.’ said the Wolf King, and with a swish
of his heavy paw he dismissed the animals’ assembly.
Magpie quieted his mirth until he had reached a good
distance from the other animals, but soon broke into peals of squawking
laughter at the prospect of the trick he would play on the Wolf King. ‘Ha!’ he
laughed to himself, ‘that old wolf is a fool, whose arrogance and hunger for
power blinds him to wisdom! To see without light, indeed! He would do better
praying to see what is in front of his long nose!’ And he cackled some more
until he was out of breath.
And so he set about enacting his wily plot. He went to an old
fire pit, cold and empty of flames, and took some charcoal. He carefully rubbed
it deep into his quills, until every shining feather was black as pitch. He
mixed some soot with a little water, to make an inky liquid, and with this he
painted his golden beak, until you could not have picked him out against the
midnight, save for the sparkle in his mischievous eye. Readied thus, he flew up, up, up the mountain, where the
mist meets the trees and robes their branches with hoary lace, and waited.
Duly the Wolf King padded up to the appointed place; his
approach only declared by the hushed crunch of frost beneath his giant paws. He
stopped, howled three times at the moon, and pricked his ears.
Black Magpie, shrouded by the night, cried out in a keening,
whistling voice
‘I am the spirit of the shadows, I am that which you cannot
see nor feel, I have neither body nor breath, but my broad jaws have width
enough to swallow the world. Who disturbs my anchorage and entreats my
charity?’
‘I am the Wolf King, ruler of the Birds and the Beasts, and
I come seeking the power to see without light, so that I may extend my dominion
over the world from day into night.’
Magpie kept a suspenseful silence before replying
‘You ask a great deal, Wolf King. Such a gift cannot be freely
given.’
‘I am willing to pay whichever price you name.’
‘Then bring me every ear of corn that grows in this land.
Make a mountain of it by nightfall, I shall consider then granting the gift of
sight without light.’
And with that Magpie slipped silently away, to rinse his
feathers clean and leave the Wolf King to muse upon his task.
At dawn the birds cracked open the day with a chorus of
trills and hoots, and slowly the other animals stretched and blinked their way
into the sunlight. But even as the creatures awoke, a strange mound was forming
at the base of the mountain.
‘What is it?’ the little Wren asked.
‘It is the Wolf King, building a mountain of corn for the
spirit of the shadows’ Magpie replied.
‘But what will be left for us to eat?’
Magpie looked at Wren, and said nothing.
All day long the Wolf King laboured and toiled, ‘til his
lips were split from plucking the corn, and his eyes were caked with dust, and
yet he completed his task. As the sun sank below the sky’s hem, he placed the
last ear of corn on the giant heap, and took a weary breath. He then began to
trudge up the mountain, to where the mist meets the trees and robes their
branches with hoary lace, and called again to the spirit of the shadows.
‘Spirit of the shadows. I have done what you asked. Will you
now grant me the power to see without light?’
‘You have done well Wolf King’ Magpie called back, hidden
again by his cloak of coal dust. ‘But all the corn in the land is not tithe
enough for sight in the darkness. I have a further task for you yet. You must
dig a basin deep enough to hold the water of all the rivers in the land. Dig me
a new sea, and then perhaps I will bestow the gift of sight without light.’
And so it was that next morning, when the bright button sun
burst through the split seam of the horizon, the Wolf King had already begun to
dig an inland sea. The animals gathered round to watch.
‘What is he doing?’ asked the little Wren.
‘He is building a basin for the spirit of the shadows, to
hold the waters of all the rivers of the land’ Magpie replied.
‘But what shall we drink?’
Magpie looked at Wren, but made no reply.
Afraid of angering the spirit of the shadows, the other
animals forwent the Wolf King’s hoard of corn, so Magpie alone fatted himself
on the golden feast. All day he lay, gorging himself at will. He became groggy with gluttony, and
fell asleep amidst the abundance. At dusk he awoke with a start. Seeing that
the night was fast approaching he hastily covered himself with soot, and flew
up the mountain to meet the Wolf King. Whilst Magpie had eaten and slept, the
Wolf King had sweated and slaved, ‘til his claws were broken and his paws were
bloodied, and yet he had completed the second task.
‘Spirit of the shadows. I have done what you have asked. I
have built you a mountain of corn, and dug you a freshwater ocean. Will you now
give me the power to see without light?’
‘You have exceeded expectations’ Magpie replied, ‘but I have
one further task for you yet.’
But, as he spoke, a spear of starlight pierced the branches
of the trees. In his haste to meet the Wolf King, Magpie had been careless with
his coal dust dressing, and had left patches of milky white on his belly and
his shoulders. The shaft of starlight struck his glittering feathers and lit
him up like a spark hitting tinder. At once, the Wolf King saw how he had been
tricked!
He roared with fury, and, quick as a salmon, leapt up and
caught Magpie in his jaws. The Wolf King was so angry he would have crushed
Magpie and swallowed him whole, but at that moment he was stopped by three
reedy chirrups. Looking around he saw little Wren.
‘Why are you here, little brother?’ barked the Wolf King,
causing Magpie to tumble to the ground.
‘Please, I have come to ask a favour of the spirit of the
shadows.’ Wren replied.
‘What is it you seek?’
‘Please, I am hungry and thirsty, Wolf King. Now all the
corn in the land and all the waters of the rivers belong to the spirit of the
shadows, we have nothing to eat nor drink. I have come to ask if I may eat a
grain of corn, and drink a drop of water.’
Well, at that, my sweetlings, the Wolf King hung his head in
shame. Little Wren could not have guessed at the force of his unintended
rebuke.
‘There is no such one, little brother,’ The Wolf King
sighed. ‘I have been tricked by wily Magpie into giving away that which is not
mine to give, and jeopardising the lives of others. You may eat and drink at
will.’ He turned back to the bird, lying damp and disgraced in the dirt.
‘As for you, Magpie – as penance for your mischief and your
greed, must wear your sooty stains henceforth. By your sullied feathers shall
the other creatures know your true character.’
And so it was, my chicks, that Magpie was made to bear his
marks of shame, and no longer delights the eye with a goldy bill and alabaster
plumes. I wish I could say his lesson was hard learned, but as you know the
Magpie has not lost his love for chancing tricks to garner treasures. But what
of the Wolf King, you may wonder, did the chapter prick his puffed up ambition?
Well perhaps, my petals, but then perhaps not. That is a story for another
night...
