Jack Page 5

  A giant peddler pushed a cart through the streets, calling out his sales for the day in a deep, booming voice that vibrated in my chest. “We got roots! Mushrooms! Crickets! Only ten gold pieces for a dozen!”

  Ten gold pieces for crickets? I could catch a hundred in ten minutes for free. But maybe crickets were rare in the giant world and full of luck or something, because the peddler was thronged with giants, and they all opened their purses full of gold and poured it into the peddler’s hands. One giant man took a cricket right away and popped it into his mouth! He crunched the cricket between his giant teeth. His face twisted up and he didn’t seem to think it tasted all that good, but he ate two more on the spot and patted his belly when he finished. “That’s better,” he said.

  Giants eating crickets…at least it wasn’t people-berries.

  Speaking of people, I didn’t see anyone my size. But there were so many giants! Way more than nine. There were big man giants with horses and wagons, woman giants with baskets and carts, and child giants. I’d never considered that there were woman and child giants before. All the giants in Grandpa Jack’s tales had been brutish men. Ogres. But man or woman, ogre or not, one of these giants had taken Papa.

  “Which of you brutes took my father? I’ll chop the villain’s head off!”

  No one seemed to hear.

  Many of the giants were moving uphill, away from the shops. I watched them go up and up and up some more, and—aha!—at the top of the hill there was a giant castle. So enormous I couldn’t see the ends of it. Great towers rose into the sky, glistening in the morning sun like gold. In fact, it looked like they really were gold. Every part of the castle glowed with golden light, and the windows sparkled like great shining lakes. Papa had to be there. In the tales, the giants always kept their human captives in castle towers or dungeons.

  I would probably have to face many giants. Maybe even more than Grandpa Jack. But that didn’t matter. I was born for this! I could conquer them all with my axe and my wit and bravery.

  I raised my axe with a flourish. “Beware, wretched ogres! Ye shall fall by the mighty hand of Jack!” With a sudden crack, the bark I was holding on to broke off the tree, and I tumbled to the ground.

  One step closer to my destination.

  I didn’t think it wise to reveal myself to the giants when there were so many at once. So I tried to stay hidden behind rocks or grass as I followed the road toward the castle. I soon realized that the giant world was incredibly barren. There were only a few patches of grass in the dusty ground and very little of it green. Whatever giant shrubs or flowers I came upon were either shriveled or full of holes and wilting as though ill. I noticed, too, that the trees had few leaves, and their branches seemed to sag. It looked like the land was in a drought, except I saw plenty of streams and puddles, and the warm air told me it wasn’t winter. I guessed the giant world was just brown.

  I climbed and climbed and climbed, and yet I seemed to make very little progress up the mountain. The castle was so high and far away. There had to be an easier way to get there.

  I watched the giants wend their way upward on carts and horses and by foot. I couldn’t see much more than boots and skirts and wheels. The child giants were easier to see, since they were closer to the ground. They had big hungry eyes and great sharp teeth that gnashed open and shut with a fearsome appetite.

  A giant little boy spotted me. “Ooh! Pixie! Pixie!” He charged after me with fat hands outstretched. The boy’s mother grabbed his arm and yanked him away. “No, Gunther! Don’t touch the pixies. They’ll bite you!” Gunther stuck out his lip in a pout, but his mother carried him off. I let out my breath. Safe. Whatever pixies were, I was glad that giants didn’t like them and I looked like one. There must be creatures in this world that we didn’t have Below.

  Just then a strange creature waddled right by me. He was much smaller than the giants, maybe the size of a cat to them, but much bigger than me. He was twice the height of Papa and several times as wide, with stout legs, a round, chubby face, and a fat, bulbous nose like a squash.

  “Message for Ferdinand! Message for Ferdinand!” the creature chanted in a raspy voice. Whatever he was, he could talk and he didn’t look vicious or threatening. Maybe I could ask him for help.

  “Excuse me, sir!” I called, but the creature didn’t stop. He kept running and calling, “Message for Ferdinand! Message for Ferdinand!” I supposed the message was really urgent, but a few minutes later another of the creatures waddled by. This one looked to be a girl, her hair in pigtails. “Message for Bertha! Message for Bertha!” she chanted.

  “Excuse me!” I called. “I need some help, please! Please could you help?” Now that I’d noticed the creatures, they were everywhere, but it seemed like they couldn’t hear me. Another one passed, this time bearing a message for Gus, and then another for Isabelle. All their messages seemed to be terribly important, but even the ones who were not chanting about messages wouldn’t stop when I called for help. Unless…

  “Hey!” I called. “I’ve got a message! Message!” Sure enough, one of the creatures waddled straight to me. This one had a little button nose and a wide mouth, like a toad. He wore tattered rags and no shoes. He looked down at me and blinked. “Message?” he said.

  “I’m looking for my papa. He’s small, like me. Can you help me find him?”

  The creature just stared at me, then repeated my words exactly in a croaky voice. “I’m looking for my papa. He’s small like me. Can you help me find him?”

  “Ummm…he was taken. By…a giant?”

  “He was taken by a giant?” he asked.

  “Yes. Do you have any idea where he could be?”

  “Yes. Do you have any idea where he could be?”

  “Stop repeating what I say and just answer me!”

  “Stop repeating what I say and just answer me!”

  “Hey, pea brain, do you know anything?”

  “Hey, pea brain, do you know anything?”

  I growled and kicked at the dwarf-giant—whatever this creature was—not thinking about how he was still three times my size and could probably crush me, but he didn’t do anything. He just stared blankly, as if our entire exchange had been forgotten. “Message?”

  I sighed. “My papa’s name is Henry and—” Before I could say any more, the dwarf-giant waddled off calling, “Message for Henry! Message for Henry!”

  “Wait!” I shouted, but the creature waddled on without a backward glance. “Message for Henry! Message for Henry!”

  So the pudgy giant-dwarf creatures wouldn’t be any help. No matter. I didn’t need help. Grandpa Jack faced a giant with three heads all on his own.

  Turning my attention back to the castle, I leapt high and grabbed onto a giant woman’s skirts and hid myself between the folds. As the giantess walked I swung wildly back and forth, like I was being thrashed about in a gale. It was rather fun, and I was moving at a very fast pace, upward and onward, until someone bumped into the woman. I lost my grip and went tumbling down the hill, thumpity, bumpity, until I came to a stop in the middle of the road. A hoof stomped down on one side of me and a wheel rolled by the other. A long tail brushed over my head, and without a second thought, I grasped at the coarse threads.

  Before coming to the giant world, I would have thought riding on a horsetail would be no more threatening than hanging from a tree, but a tree only bends with the wind, while a tail has a mind of its own. It flicked me side to side and up and down. It was like hanging on to the end of a whip and you never knew which direction it would go. I got dizzy, giant flies buzzed in my face, and it smelled pretty awful, which shouldn’t be surprising considering where a tail is placed.

  Once inside the castle gates, the horse halted but the tail did not. The horse must have felt me because I got whipped around so violently, it was impossible to hold on. I went flying. I tumbled to the ground and bounced and rolled until I came to a stop directly beneath the stone steps of the castle.

  CHAPTER
SEVEN

  Cat and Mouse and Giant

  The walls of the giant castle rose above me like endless mountains and cliffs. To my left was a set of stairs leading to some doors, but each step was twice my height, and frankly I’d had enough of climbing for one day. Besides, it was better to enter with stealth and strategy, and take the giants who held Papa by surprise.

  I slid through a crack in the stone and entered a tunnel, probably for mice and rats. The air was stale and moldy. Only a few shafts of light pried through other holes in the stone. Above me there were great wooden beams covered in dust and cobwebs and rather elaborate spiderwebs….

  “AaaaAyACK!” I leaped back as a giant spider dropped down from one of the beams right above me. Its body was the size of a pumpkin, with eight hairy legs, two sharp pincers, and four shiny black eyes all fixed on me. I held my axe, ready to swing, but the spider didn’t attack me. It merely looked at me as though curious and then scuttled back up its silk thread.

  A mouse as big as a sheep scurried by, twitching his whiskers and sniffing at the ground for food. He crawled up one of the beams and then disappeared through another hole. If a mouse could go through the hole safely, then so could I. I climbed up the beam, pulling myself up on giant nails and digging my feet into the knots in the wood. The spider continued its spinning, but I felt its eyes on me. Well, I suppose when you have eight limbs, it’s hilarious to watch little humans climb.

  As I climbed, I got whiffs of the most heavenly smells. Roasted meat and onions, fresh bread, and baked cheese. My stomach growled. The thought of eating something besides beans was almost too much for me. I climbed faster.

  Finally I reached the hole the mouse had gone into. It was a tunnel, just big enough to crawl through on my hands and knees. The mouse was crouched behind a sack, nibbling on some grain that was spilling out of a rip at the bottom. He watched me closely with his beady eyes. I must have made him nervous, because he quickly finished his meal and scurried off. I scooped up a handful of grain. It was wheat. Just regular wheat, not giant.

  I climbed on top of the sack of grain to get a better view of things. This was undoubtedly a kitchen. There were more giant sacks of grain and baskets of fruits and vegetables. A giant table rose up above me twice as high as a house. The walls were lined with shelves and pots and pans, rolling pins and dishes and giant wooden spoons. Across the room was a giant fireplace with a black kettle, and two stone ovens, each with a fire blazing inside. The smells of bread and meat and cheese were so strong I could almost taste them now, but there was no sign of giants. Perhaps I could grab some food without anyone noticing.

  I hopped down from the sack. The floors were made of great slats of wood that I’m sure were flat and smooth to the giants, but to me they had cracks and ridges that were easy to trip over, not to mention giant nails and splinters of wood poking out like daggers and swords. I wasn’t afraid, but I pulled out my axe, just to be prepared.

  Some hot liquid splashed down at my feet. I jumped back and looked up. Hanging from the sky-high ceiling was an enormous iron chandelier with a dozen blazing candles. I added dripping hot wax to the list of things to watch out for.

  Suddenly a bell rang. There was a rumble and the ground trembled like the earth before a stampede.

  “The king demands his supper!” boomed a voice.

  Through an open doorway to my left came a rush of giants. They stomped and boomed into the kitchen, and I was right in their path.

  “I need the soup!” someone shouted.

  “Hand me the pie!”

  “Careful now, it’s hot!”

  “Oomf! Watch yourself, clumsy!”

  “You watch yourself! I’ve got the king’s pie.”

  I ran back toward the mousehole, but my path was blocked by something large and furry. My heart gave a sickening jump. It was a giant cat, its fluffy tail swishing back and forth, patiently waiting for a mouse—or some tasty morsel—to come out of the hole.

  I slowly backed away but then tripped over one of the slats of wood and fell with a thud! The cat meowed and turned around. It was orange with a squashed face and yellow eyes that narrowed when they saw me. Before I could blink, the cat pounced. Giant claws like curved daggers slashed down at me. I ran for my life.

  ReeeeaaAAARRRrr!

  I hurtled over a giant nail and then dodged a giant foot. I ran around chair and table legs and giant feet and skirts, all with the cat snarling and clawing at my heels.

  Where to hide? I couldn’t run fast enough, and there were no holes in the middle of the floor. I wedged myself between the jugs and jars, but the cat pushed them aside and tipped them over, swiping me with its giant claws.

  “Out of the way, stupid cat!” One of the giants shoved the cat aside, which gave me enough time to scramble on top of one of the sacks and jump in.

  Ale. Yech! Better than claws, but it was sticky and smelled rancid. Through the hole at the top I could see the cat attacking the jug. It clawed and swiped at the opening. The jar rocked back and forth, threatening to topple over.

  “Rufus!” said a voice. “What in the world are you doing, you silly cat!”

  The cat growled and hissed.

  “Did you find a mouse? Did you?” The jug was suddenly picked up, causing me to tumble back into sloshing ale. A giant eye came over the opening, and then the jar was tipped. Liquid sloshed over me and I went down, down, down in a whirlpool of ale. I tumbled out of the opening into a bowl. I coughed and coughed and flopped onto my back, unable to move.

  “Good kitty, Rufus! You caught us a big, fat— Oh my! What have we here?” The cat snarled and jumped at me again, but the giant scooped me up in the palm of her hand so fast, my stomach dropped and flipped. And then we were face-to-face. Big blue eyes twinkled and an enormous mouth stretched wide to show rows of teeth the size of axeheads. My axe! I was in the hands of a giant and I had an axe! But there was no time for it.

  “Oh, what fortune!” said the giant woman. “I just love little boys!”

  And she dropped me into her apron pocket.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Mum Martha and Tom Thumb

  The giant went about her business, shouting orders and bumping into things, therefore bumping me into things. I was smacked and slammed and tossed to and fro so viciously, I couldn’t help but think of all the spiders and grasshoppers I’d put into Annabella’s pocket. Poor grasshoppers! I promised that if I ever got out, I’d never put another living creature into anyone’s pocket again.

  “I need a serving spoon!” shouted a giant.

  “I need a knife!” shouted another.

  “Out of my way!”

  I smelled food. Delicious food. Bread. Bacon. Turkey. Leg of lamb cooked in sage and onions. Or maybe it was leg of man. Boy stew. Human hearts. My own hunger shrank and curdled in my stomach. What was this giant going to do with me?

  I tried to make an escape hole with my axe, but I nearly chopped off my own arms, so I gave up and tried to stay still.

  After what felt like hours of being jostled around, the noise quieted and the giant plucked me between two fingers and pulled me out. It was evening. The windows were dim and the kitchen was lit by a single candle on a table as big as a wheat field. Menacing shadows stretched along the walls and ceiling. Dark shapes lurked in the corners.

  The giant brought me to her face, cupped in the center of her palm. All the giants Grandpa Jack faced were brutish men with disfigured faces and breath like rotten meat. This giantess was not disfigured. She had round rosy cheeks and twinkly eyes. She smelled like fresh-baked bread and melted cheese. My stomach grumbled loudly and the giantess chuckled.

  “I’m hungry, too,” she said. “It’s been a busy day in the kitchen, and goodness knows I am always the last to eat, but I am so glad I found you! Such a sweet thing.”

  Sweet. Sweet things were good for eating. Snakes and toads, wake up, Jack! Just because she’s a woman giant doesn’t mean she won’t eat you.

  I slid the axe from my w
aist and raised it above my head. “Thou barbarous and villainous giant! I am Jack, the great-great-great—”

  “Oh dear, that does look sharp.” The giantess plucked the axe right out of my hands as easily as pulling a pin out of a cushion. “Don’t want to chop any fingers or toes, now do we? I prefer to keep you in one piece.”

  She dropped the axe into her apron pocket.

  That did not go the way I’d pictured.

  “Oh my, you are dirty. Let’s wash for supper.” The giantess plopped me into a washbasin and poured water over my head. She held me between her thumb and forefinger and rubbed me against a bar of soap. Up and down and all around so the soap lathered and bits of foam got into my mouth. I coughed and spat, and then the giantess dunked me back in the water and swished me around like a dirty rag in the wash bucket.

  Swish, swish, swash.

  “All clean!” She shook me a few times, wrapped me tight inside a handkerchief, and set me beside a stub of candle. The flame was like a blazing fire in front of me, and it was nice and warm.

  “Now, my name is Martha,” said the giantess. “You can call me Mum Martha.”

  Mum?

  “What’s your name, little one?”

  I looked at her, confused. Did giants enjoy knowing the names of their meals? Roast Jack. Jack Stew. Jack Pudding and Pie. Delicious.

  “Oh, poor thing,” said Martha. “Perhaps you have no name. Some do come that way. But don’t worry. We’ll find you the perfect name! You could be Hans or Fritz or Gus, or…”

  The giantess continued to rattle off names, but a movement at the corner of my eye caught my attention. A sugar bowl as big as a chicken coop sat on a shelf just above me. It wobbled from side to side and finally tipped over. The lid popped off and a boy tumbled out. A boy who was my size, and looked about my age.