Feast For A Beggar

Jack’s horse was old and unused to long riding, but she trotted along merrily enough for she knew that her master was kind and he would not overtax her.

She whickered and tried to get her head down, but Jack was not ready to end the ride yet. The evening was too perfect. The valley rolled and curved down to a bright little stream that tumbled over rocks. There would be fish, a few trees for shade. He could see holes for rabbits.

Slowly, the sun sank over the rim of the valley. The sky darkened, fading into pale greens and yellows, purple, then deep velvet blue. The first stars came out one by one.

As the world darkened, Jack turned his horse down into the valley, down towards the rushing water. The grass was rabbit-shorn and soft as a mattress. He found a likely spot close to a willow tree, gathered sticks for a fire and piled up a few dry branches.

"Help me," he whispered into the pile, but the fire did not love him and it would not obey. So he worked with his flint and steel instead until the sparks kindled in his oil-soaked tinder wool and flared up into a playful flame.

His old dappled mare whickered softly until he unsaddled her and gave her oats. He toasted a little bread and ate it with cheese and some meat, then wrapped his cloak around his knees, leaned back against the root of a tree, and fell asleep.

When he awoke it was full night. His fire had died away to embers. The stars stood bright and cold against the vaulted dome of the sky like white-cloaked sentinels across a city wall. Not a breath of wind stirred the leaves in the trees. The spears of grass shone like grey metal. The only sound was that of the water playing amongst the smooth river rocks.

As he watched, the water seemed to brighten, as though lit from below.

And then he saw her.

She rode down the valley, following the little stream. Her face shone like the moon. Her silvery hair billowed around her shoulders. Her perfect white mare high-stepped through the water, and the water laughed as it played around the animal's hooves. Bright as she was, she seemed like one of the stars come down to walk the quiet places in the world.

As she approached him, she drew her horse to a halt. The mare stood, snorting and shying a dozen paces from where he sat with his travel-stained cloak pulled up around his knees. The maiden swung down from the saddle, and oh, the length and curve of her was like the sweep and swell of the valley, so that Jack could hardly breathe or bear to look at her.

She reached out to him, her hand slender as a willow stalk, and touched the rough skin of his arm, and she smiled, oh, how she smiled. Suddenly bold, he touched her hip and drew her to him. She shone, brighter than all the stars together, and Jack squeezed his eyes shut to keep from being dazzled. When he opened them again, she was gone.

All of a sudden, the sound came back into the world. The wind blew once more, and the leaves stirred in the trees. His old horse woke, snorted, and nuzzled at his shoulder, but he did not move from that spot. He could think only of the maiden on the white horse.

In time, the sky began to redden, and soon the sun was up. Jack remained in that place, unmoving, seeing only her face and feeling the prickle and the warmth of her touch on his arm, the slender curve of her back beneath his fingers.

But a man can only remain still so long, and after a while, his body got the better of him. He remade his fire and boiled a few vegetables using water from the stream. The sun rose over the valley. His old, dappled nag cropped the soft green grass greedily. He untied her and let her run across the hillside, kicking for the joy of it. He had no fear of her running off, for he had known her since he was a boy, and she came to his call. He brushed and groomed her carefully, liking the ritual. She leaned into his touch as he ran the brush over her side and whickered with pleasure. He sang soft lullabies into her ear and rested his head on her shaggy grey neck.

Jack remained in that place all day. He shot at rabbits with his bow and killed a few for supper. When night fell, he built up a little fire, cooked his rabbits, and settled in for the night leaning against the tree root. But this night the sky was overcast and there were no stars. He slept soundly and was not woken by anything.

He remained in that place all the next day also, and all the next week, and the next month too, but each night the maiden did not return, the warmth of her touch faded from his arm, and softly, the year began to turn.

It was cold now, and the rabbits stayed in their holes, so he set snares for them and smoked many of the little bodies to set a store for winter. The soft grass around the tree root was rubbed away, but still, he slept there each night, hoping to keep everything just the same in case it were the manner of his sleeping that had drawn her. His clothes became ragged and dirty and the old mare ran wild across the hillside, coming and going as she pleased, kicking up her heels but always staying within bowshot of her master, for she trusted him to keep her from the roving wolves.

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As the year rolled right around, the frost receded, and the springtime returned, he began to give up hope of ever seeing the maid again. And so, one morning, he rose up, packed the remains of his rabbits into his saddlebags, called his horse to him, and made ready to leave that place, never to return.

As he tightened the straps on his pack, he noticed a small ripple in the grass near his feet -- a tiny movement. He knelt down and spied between the blades a small green snake with black eyes and a golden tongue. It hissed at him.

He drew his dagger, meaning to end the little creature, for he had few rabbits left, and all meat is a feast to a beggar, but before he could strike, the snake opened its mouth and spoke.

"You may not kill me, Jack," it said, "for we have business."

As it spoke, a smell came from it, a smell of rotten meat, of sickness and pus and unwashed bodies in the rain, and Jack felt fear, for he knew he was in the presence of something greater and older than it appeared.

"What business have we snake?" replied Jack, though he found it was difficult to form the words. The stench of it pressed down on him until he was forced to his knees, and finally, he lay flat, his eyes level with the snake. It stared back at him, unblinking.

"The maiden, of course," replied the snake. Its voice was oily. "Why I would have thought for one such as her a man might wait a hundred years, yet you are ready to abandon your quest after only one."

"What do you know of her?" Jack asked, trying not to inhale the stench and choking down the bile that rose in his throat.

"I know of her," replied the snake, idly, slithering back and forth in the grass like a merchant preparing to make a sale. "I know more of her than you know of her, and that is enough for trade, I think."

"Do you know where she is and how I may come to her?"

"Oh, little man. Things are never so simple. You know how this works. You must pay me."

Jack shook his head, forced himself to his feet and shouldered his pack, meaning to mount his horse and ride away. A bargain with the snake is a fool's business. But the memory of the warmth of her touch was too strong. Her face too bright in his mind's eye. He sat down and collected his thoughts. The smell seemed easier now, now that he was becoming accustomed to it.

"You can give her to me?"

"I can help you win her if you wish it."

"And she will love me? In... in all the way a woman loves a husband?"

The snake recoiled slightly and hissed. "I have no dominion over love," it said. "But I will not drive her to hate you, and you will have ample opportunities to win her if you are wise."

But Jack was a canny bargain maker, and he knew that a trade such as this must be crafted carefully.

"Will we both live? Will you take her from me? Or me from her?"

"You wish to bargain for immortality? That is another matter."

"No. No. But will I be broken? Will I enjoy her? Will we live a natural life together?"

"I will promise you that you will live, unbroken, as will she, and that I will not seek to end either of you," said the snake. "The rest is up to you. But you must pay the price."

Jack knew better than to ask what the price would be, for all magic is trade, and for every binding, there must be an unbinding, and no man may know ahead of time the secret cost of his decisions. And so he nodded.

"I will accept the price, whatever may come."

No sooner had he said the word, but the snake sprang towards him, mouth wide open, fangs bared, poison dripping. Jack leapt back but the snake was not striking at him. It sank its teeth deep into the leg of the old mare, who still stood, half saddled, and hung there biting her. The horse reared up, lips drawn back, eyes rolling in terror. A high-pitched cry escaped her lips as though her very soul was poisoned. Then she fell in a confusion of legs and foam. She lay shuddering and crying in the grass.

Jack knelt by her side, holding her to him, stroking her shaggy grey nose. The snake opened its mouth and fell back into the grass. She snorted, struggling to draw breath. Jack reached down, feeling the swollen place where the snake had bitten her.

"Why?" he whispered, tears in his eyes.

The snake made no reply but watched coldly, its black eyes glittering.

"Was this the price?" Jack asked.

"For the love of a Princess?" The snake's voice had an edge of amusement. "No, that was not the price. Consider that a downpayment."

Jack held the mare to him as she whimpered and shook. "May I, end her cleanly?"

The snake made a motion with its body as though it were considering.

"We must hurry. Leave her or end her. Do as you wish, I care not, but you must be quick, for there are ways we must travel that are not often open."

Jack lay down next to his old mare, brushing her side. Quietly, so as not to scare her, he unclasped the hunting knife at his hip. He leaned into her neck and whispered a lullaby into her ear. She stilled at his touch and the sound of his voice and lay still, breathing quietly.

With a quick slash, he cut the cords in her throat. Warm blood poured out over him. Her legs stiffened and shook, her eyes opened wide in terror as though she had seen something that should not be there. Then, the life went out of her. Jack held her warm body close to him and let the tears come.

The snake watched impassively. After a while, Jack stood. His cloak was soaked in blood, and his eyes were hot.

"I must wash," he said.

"No. We must be quick, and you are bloodied. It is... appropriate. Follow me close, for we must follow a way not often travelled."

The Snake slithered up Jack’s leg and coiled in his pocket, heavy and cold. There was a path at the top of the valley, that he had not seen in all the time he had remained in the valley. He shouldered his pack, and walked.