Chapter 19: Gravedigger

By the time Steven had finished his story, he was standing on one leg on top of a chair, juggling three balls, a stone on the end of a leather thong, and a small shirt-shaped flag. Cherissé was mesmerized by the sight and sat staring at the objects floating in the air with her mouth agape. Steven stepped off the chair while still juggling the odd assortment and approached Cherissé.

“Sleep, Cherissé,” he said calmly. Her eyelids fluttered closed and shortly there was a long and loud snore. Steven stared in amazement at the sleeping figure that no longer looked so beautiful, nor young, nor capable. Now he could see the missing teeth, the wrinkles around her eyes, and the long hooked nose. How had he thought this hag was so precious? It must have been the hit on the head I took, he thought. He quietly gathered his belongings and slipped out the door.

Steven was nearly to the gate of the hag’s house which now looked forlorn and rundown, when he heard the soft honking of the geese. Something had bothered Steven about the docile flock of geese as he stood outside the pen watching the woman feed them and call them by name. The combination of their honks all together sounded almost like voices. He was loath to take away the old woman’s livelihood if such they were, but he could not go without opening their pen.

One by one the geese filed out of the pen and as they crossed the threshold, each stood up in the form of a man. Finally, there were seven men standing with Steven.

“Thank you, lad,” said the eldest. “The hag laid an enchantment on us and we were kept as geese until she had need of one for the soup pot.” Steven gagged as he thought of the goose stew he had eaten with the beautiful young woman when he first woke up. He saw one last goose remaining in the pen.

“Why doesn’t he come out?” Steven asked.

“Oh,” said the man. “That one’s just a goose.”

Together the eight men silently left the hag’s yard and fled into the woods.

There was some dispute regarding which way they should go, and further dispute regarding whether they should go back and kill the hag. No one seemed anxious, however, to enter her grounds again. Steven sighted the moon and took off walking in what he assumed was a northerly direction. The other men fell in behind him in single file and they walked on through the night.

The men who had been geese became progressively more talkative as the night wore on and they felt they were farther and farther from the hag’s clutches. As they walked, they talked—first one at a time, then all at once—of their adventures.

“I ran away from home,” said the youngest. “I thought I knew the way to my grandmam’s house, but I got lost along the way. As I wandered, weeping in the woods, I came upon a cottage so nicely kept, with a kind motherly woman who dried my eyes and brought me into her house to feed me. Her voice was so soft and comforting and the food so delicious that I thought I would just stay with her a while. Before long, she had me working like a slave to fetch her water, fix her roof, tend her garden. Then one day she sent me to feed the geese. As soon as I entered the pen, she slammed the door shut on me and said, ‘You’ve been a silly goose, now live like one,’ and there I stayed until you let me out.” The men generally agreed with the boy, but another spoke up.

“It was no kind motherly sort that captured my heart,” he said. He wore a rugged black beard and looked like he had been a burly man before he had been forced to eat a diet of grain and scraps. “I was sailing on the sea some leagues away when I heard a sweet and melodious voice singing over the water. I was not heedful of my craft and steered her toward the voice. Before long I was wrecked upon the rocks and near drowned. A nymph with honey hair saved me from the sea and nursed me back to health. I thought I’d never heard a lovelier voice. But from there, my story is the same as the lad’s. I worked and slaved for her, just to hear the sound of her voice. Then one day, she sent me to feed the geese, closed the gate on me and told me I’d been a silly goose, now I could live like one. I’ve been there ever since.”

“Aye.” “That’s right.” “I hear you,” chorused the other men.

“The lady was not blonde that enticed me away from the road,” said a man dressed as a merchant. “I was riding in my cart on a mission of trade from one village to the next. I saw a raven-haired gypsy girl pulling her own little cart. It was stuck in the mud and I offered to help her, thinking we might find something to trade. She said she’d been separated from her caravan and asked so sweetly if I would help her get her cart to the camp. Once we found the wagon where she had camped, she made me a savory stew and sang and danced so sweetly that I completely forgot about my business. She started by getting me to mend a wheel, paint her cart, and finally she showed me a pen of geese and asked me to feed them. When she locked the gate on me she said I was a silly goose and I should live with them. There I was the night you set us free.”

One man had been a wood-cutter, one a drunk, and one a soldier. Each had come upon a golden-haired, or red headed, or brown-haired beauty who had a voice so sweet they would do anything to hear her speak again. They had labored for her a short while and then when she said to feed the geese, she’d locked them in her pen.

“I confess,” said the geezer, “I was a fool. I am old and my family is poor. I thought to myself that I would no longer be a burden to them and late one night while the family slept, I walked off into the woods thinking to find a quiet place to lie down and die. I found such a place and when I was near to death, I heard an angel singing, calling me up out of my deathbed to join her in the heavens. She gave me a simple place and built my strength with an elixir. She had me do no work at all until the day she asked me to feed the geese for her. I walked into the pen and found myself as silly a goose as I had been.” The men all nodded.

“Now, our rescuer,” said the geezer. “How did you come to be in her clutches?” Steven told the story of being knocked off the boat and caught in the current, then rescued from her nets, according to the story that Cherissé had told him.

“But how did you get free of her seduction?” asked the geezer.

“Well,” said Steven, “we agreed to tell each other stories and when I had finished mine, she had fallen asleep. In sleep, I could see her for what she was. She was not the most beautiful creature I had ever seen, but the ugliest. And to hear her snore was a sure antidote to her sweet voice. When I left, I was moved to open the pen and let you out.”

“She fell asleep when you told a story, eh?” said the geezer.

“Yes,” said Steven. He did not bother to tell about the juggling balls that seemed to so captivate her.

“Must not be a very good storyteller,” the geezer snorted, and the men all laughed. The sound was almost like the honking of the geese they had been.

By mid-day, the company came to a road and sat to eat some of the scraps that Steven still had in his pack. They had been a little waterlogged and then dried in front of the fire, but no one complained. As they sat, they talked about the direction in which they thought Rich Reach might lie.