Girls, Goddesses and Giants Read online

  For Mirren and Gowan.

  Be your own heroines.

  Contents

  Chi and the Seven-headed Dragon

  Chinese legend

  Inanna and the Box of Monsters

  Sumerian myth

  The Wolf in the Bed

  French folktale

  Telesilla and the Gates of Argos

  Greek legend

  Durga and the Demon

  Indian myth

  Kopecho and the Two Suns

  Venezuelan legend

  Mbango and the Whirlpool

  Cameroonian folktale

  Hervor and the Cursed Sword

  Norse legend

  Visiting Baba Yaga

  Russian folktale

  Aliquipiso and the Cliffs

  Native American legend

  Tokoyo and the Skin Rope

  Japanese legend

  The Giant’s Heart

  Scottish folktale

  The stories and the sources

  Chi and the Seven-headed Dragon

  Chinese legend

  Dragons can be awkward neighbours, so when the Emperor of China saw a dragon settle into the cave at the top of the mountain behind his palace, he wasn’t pleased.

  It was the biggest, scariest dragon he’d ever seen. It had seven heads, on seven snaky necks, attached to one thick green scaly body, and each individual head had ninety-nine sharp curved yellow teeth. (I’m sure you can work out how many teeth the dragon had altogether, but the Emperor didn’t bother doing the sums. He just knew it was far too many teeth.)

  “I can’t have a dragon living above my palace!” he whined. “If it comes out of that cave, it might fly down here, frighten my party guests and set fire to my palace. It might even eat me!”

  He summoned his wise men and his wise women, and he asked them, “How do we get rid of that dragon?”

  The wise men and wise women frowned. “It’s not easy to get rid of a dragon, oh great Emperor, but we could make sure it doesn’t leave its cave, then it wouldn’t threaten your palace.”

  “How would we do that?” demanded the Emperor.

  “If we feed the dragon its favourite food at the mouth of the cave, then it won’t need to leave the cave.”

  “Great idea,” said the Emperor. “What is its favourite food?”

  The wise men and wise women looked a bit shifty and embarrassed, so the Emperor stamped his feet until they admitted that the long green seven-headed dragon’s favourite food was:

  Little girls.

  “Little girls?” said the Emperor. “Little girls? But I can’t feed little girls to the dragon! I don’t want to feed my own daughters to it, and I don’t want to feed the daughters of my cooks or soldiers or gardeners or civil servants to it either, because then they wouldn’t like me and they wouldn’t work for me.”

  The wise men and wise women said, “There are lots of farmers, fishermen and merchants outside your palace who have daughters. You could feed their little girls to the dragon to keep it safely in the cave.”

  So the Emperor demanded a silk bag filled with the names of all the families in China who didn’t work in his palace, and every Friday morning he picked out a name. Then a messenger on a fast horse rode to that family and announced in a loud shouty voice:

  “By order of the Emperor, you must feed one of your little girls to the seven-headed dragon. But because the Emperor is kind and merciful, you may choose which of your daughters to give to the dragon.”

  So each week, a family would take a little girl up the mountain. They would all walk up a steep winding path to the very top, where they would sit the little girl outside the cave, then bang a big brass gong put there by the Emperor’s servants. The booommmmm of the gong told the dragon that his tea was ready. Then the family would go away.

  Leaving the little girl on the mountain to be eaten.

  Over weeks and months and years, the steep path to the summit got wider, trodden down by the many feet which had climbed up and the fewer feet which had walked slowly and sadly back down.

  But it worked! It worked perfectly, from the Emperor’s point of view, because the dragon stayed in the cave and didn’t bother him at all.

  Then one Friday, the name he pulled out of the bag was Li, a rice farmer. So the messenger rode to Li’s rice farm and said in a bored voice:

  “By order of the Emperor, you must feed one of your little girls to the seven-headed dragon. But because the Emperor is kind and merciful, you may choose which of your daughters to give to the dragon.”

  Li looked at his three lovely daughters, with tears in his eyes.

  His youngest daughter, whose name was Chi, thought this was a dreadful thing to ask any father to do, to choose one of his children to feed to a dragon.

  So, to save her father from making such a terrible choice and to save her big sisters from the dragon, Chi said, “I will go. I will go and meet the dragon. But I would like to ask three favours of you, Father. I’d like to take the sword that hangs over the fireplace, I’d like you to give me seven barrels of your best sticky rice and I’d like to go up the mountain on my own.”

  The next morning, Chi left the farm with a long sword in her belt, pulling behind her a cart loaded with seven barrels of sticky rice.

  As she walked up the mountain on her own, she could smell the rice. Her father had cooked the sticky rice before he put it in the barrels, so as she pulled the cart, she was surrounded by the warm sweet toasty smell of cooked rice. She knew the rice in the barrels was gluey, gloopy and glutinous.

  When she got to the top of the mountain, she placed the seven barrels of rice in a line at the mouth of the cave, hid herself and the cart behind the big gong, then banged the gong to tell the dragon his tea was ready.

  The dragon’s heads came out of the cave.

  Seven huge heads appeared out of the darkness, with ninety-nine sharp teeth in each head. Seven long necks followed, weaving and winding around each other, as the heavy body squatted in the cave.

  Seven heads on seven necks, hunting for a meal.

  Each head had to pass over a barrel of rice as it came out of the cave. And each head smelt the rice, the warm toasty sweet-scented sticky rice.

  The dragon’s favourite food was little girl. However it had eaten nothing but little girls for years now. The dragon breathed in the fragrance of the rice and thought, “That smells good. I could have rice for starter and little girl for main course.”

  So the seven heads dived… one, two, three, four, five, six, seven… into the seven barrels of rice and started to eat.

  As soon as all seven heads were in the seven barrels, Chi grasped the hilt of the sword and ran at the dragon.

  The dragon heard her coming and the dragon attacked with its first three heads.

  But the first, second and third heads were so deep in the barrels of sticky rice that they couldn’t get out. They were stuck in the barrels.

  So Chi ran up to the first three heads and CHOP CHOP CHOP she cut them off.

  The next three heads attacked.

  The fourth, fifth and sixth heads hadn’t gone so deep into the rice, because they had started eating after the first three heads, so they managed to pull themselves out of the barrels of sticky rice and started chasing Chi around the mountain top.

  But those three heads had eaten lots of rice, so when they tried to bite her with their ninety-nine teeth each, there was so much sticky rice on their teeth and gums that they couldn’t open their mouths. Their jaws were stuck together.

  Chi realised they couldn’t bite her, so she whirled round and CHOP CHOP CHOP she cut off those three heads too.

  But the seventh head had go
ne into the rice last, and by the time it had snaked into the seventh barrel, the dragon’s belly was almost full from the rice eaten by the other six heads.

  The seventh head hadn’t gone very deep, so it pulled out of the barrel clean and fast. And the seventh head hadn’t eaten very much, so its teeth weren’t stuck together.

  When the seventh head started to chase Chi, the seventh head opened its mouth wide and Chi saw the ninety-nine long yellow teeth.

  So Chi ran away.

  As she crouched behind the gong, she thought, “I had planned to fight a dragon with all its heads and teeth stuck in rice. I hadn’t planned to fight a dragon with ninety-nine teeth snapping at me!” And she looked at the path down the mountain.

  Then she thought, “Hold on, I’ve just fought a seven-headed dragon. This is only a one-headed dragon!”

  She leapt out from behind the gong. She jumped onto a barrel of rice. She waited until the dragon’s head snaked towards her.

  And she sliced its head off.

  Then Chi kicked the barrels down the mountain, to roll down the slope and thud into the back wall of the palace, and she kicked the dragon’s heads down the mountain, to bounce down the slope and squelch into the back wall of the palace.

  Because she thought that since the Emperor had happily fed little girls to the dragon for so long, he should clear up the mess.

  Inanna and the Box of Monsters

  Sumerian myth

  Inanna was the Sumerian goddess of love, so she was glamorous and popular, but not as powerful as the rest of her family. She had often wondered how she could gain more power and influence.

  Her uncle, Enki, was the god of the sea and the god of wisdom, so he had all the world’s skills and knowledge hoarded in his palace, far out to sea.

  Inanna decided to pay her favourite uncle a visit.

  She polished her axe and her sword, she put on her most flattering robe and richest jewels, and she left her home city of Uruk with her sidekick Ninshibur. Ninshibur was a queen and a warrior, but she had chosen to serve as Inanna’s chamberlain.

  The two young women left the inland city of Uruk for the nearest harbour, where Inanna kept the boat of heaven, her beautiful white crescent-shaped boat. The boat of heaven was lit by two round oil lamps, one hanging from the front so Inanna and Ninshibur could see where they were going, the other hanging from the back so they could see where they had been.

  Inanna and Ninshibur jumped into the boat of heaven, and they rowed across the wide water to Enki’s sea-washed palace.

  Well, I say they rowed, but Inanna was a goddess, so she just sat in the back of the boat and trailed her fingers in the water, while Ninshibur did all the hard work with the oars.

  Eventually they arrived at Enki’s palace. The god of wisdom and of the sea rarely had visitors because he lived so far from land, and he was delighted to see Inanna. He ordered his chamberlain, Isimud, to prepare a feast. Isimud opened up the feasting hall, which was filled with carved wooden boxes, and laid the long table with barley cakes, butter, honey and beer.

  Enki sat at one end with Isimud standing behind him. Inanna sat at the other end with Ninshibur standing behind her.

  And they feasted.

  Inanna was the perfect guest. When Enki told jokes she laughed, when he sang songs she joined in with the chorus, when he told stories she gasped in all the right places.

  Then it was her turn and Inanna started to sing. She sang a long gentle quiet song.

  Enki’s face grew soft and his eyes started to droop. He said to her, in between verses, “Thank you so much for coming to visit me… I’m so happy to see you at my table… what can I give you to say thank you for visiting?”

  Inanna kept singing, her voice smooth and low, and Enki looked round his feasting hall. He saw the carved wooden boxes, holding all his knowledge, skills and ideas.

  Inanna kept singing her persuasively beautiful song. The god of wisdom staggered over to the boxes and started throwing open the lids. Inside the boxes, he saw crafts like woodworking and metalworking, he saw ideas like kingship and heroism.

  “Here’s a gift to say thanks for visiting your lonely old uncle,” he said, as he gave the craft of the coppersmith to Inanna. But Inanna didn’t stop singing, she just smiled sweetly and passed the gift to Ninshibur behind her, who slipped out of the hall and hid the gift in the boat of heaven.

  Enki kept opening boxes and kept giving Inanna gifts as she sang. He gave her crowns and swords; coloured clothes and black clothes; the loud music of instruments and the sad music of lamentation; the art of hairdressing and the craft of the scribe; the idea of shepherds’ huts and sheepfolds; good judgement and good counsel; forthright speech and fancy speech and deceitful speech.

  Isimud tried to stop Enki, but Enki ordered him to sit down and be quiet.

  As Inanna sang, the god of wisdom opened every box he could see. He smiled at Inanna and gave her every gift he could find. And Ninshibur stowed the gifts in the boat of heaven.

  Finally, Inanna changed to an even slower, softer song, and Enki fell gently asleep at the table.

  Inanna and Ninshibur ran to the boat of heaven. They leapt in and they started to row away from the palace towards Uruk.

  Well, I say they rowed, but Inanna was a goddess, so she just sat at the back of the boat and let her fingers dangle in the water, while Ninshibur did all the hard work with the oars.

  Before they were even half-way home, Enki woke up. He rubbed his eyes, he shook his head and he looked around his hall.

  He saw the empty boxes.

  Enki yelled at Isimud, “Where is my wisdom? Where is everything? All the crafts and knowledge and ideas?”

  “You gave everything away, my lord. To your niece Inanna.”

  “I gave it all away? Go and get it back!”

  So Isimud leapt into the sea god’s fastest boat and he chased after the boat of heaven. When he caught up, he bowed to Inanna and said politely, “This is a little awkward, my lady, but my lord would like his gifts back. He didn’t really mean to give them to you. So please return them.”

  Inanna smiled. “The god of wisdom wants his gifts back? Because he didn’t mean to give them to me? That must mean the god of wisdom made a mistake. Not very wise, is he? Perhaps these crafts, ideas and knowledge are safer with me. So no, he can’t have them back.”

  Ninshibur rowed on, away from Isimud.

  Isimud rushed back to Enki. “She’s not going to return your gifts, no matter how politely I ask.”

  Enki smiled. “Then we will just have to take them back.” He reached into a shadowy corner and dragged out a box which he hadn’t noticed the night before.

  “This,” he said, “is the box of monsters.”

  He lifted the lid carefully, stuck his hand inside and hauled out a wild-haired enkum.

  He said to the creature of the water, “Bring everything back to me!” and threw the enkum into the sea.

  The enkum swam as fast as the waves after the boat of heaven.

  The wild-haired enkum was blue, like the sea on a sunny day, and covered in long hair all over his body, on his head, his arms, his hands, his fingers, his belly, his knees, his feet. His hair was wiry and curly, and wound round anything near the enkum. It even wound round the enkum’s own body, the hairs of his head twisting and twining and growing into his ears and up his nostrils.

  When he reached the boat of heaven, his hair coiled round the oars so Ninshibur couldn’t row. Inanna laughed. “I’ll deal with this.” She picked up her axe and her sword, and she hacked at the enkum’s hair with her axe and slashed at his belly with her sword.

  But the axe bounced off his hair and the sword couldn’t pierce his skin.

  Inanna looked at her hands, dripping wet from trailing in the sea. She yelled to Ninshibur, “My hands have touched Enki’s sea, so my hands have no power against his monsters. You will have to fight the enkum yourself, Ninshibur, because your hands have not touched the sea.”

  Ninshib
ur looked at the wild-haired enkum behind the boat, and she looked at the lamps fore and aft. She seized the nearest lamp and threw it at the enkum.

  The lamp hit him square in the middle of his forehead. The lamp smashed open, burning oil splattered all over the enkum and his hair caught fire. The flames rushed up each spiral hair and covered his body in a blaze of light.

  The fire travelled along his hair, into his ears, up his nostrils and right inside his head. The enkum was burning inside and out, and he slowly sank, sizzling, under the waves.

  Ninshibur started to row towards land.

  But Enki opened the box of monsters again, stuck his hand inside and hauled out a kugulal.

  He said to the creature of the air, “Bring back everything,” and threw the kugulal upwards.

  The kugulal flew as fast as the wind after the boat of heaven.

  The kugulal was a huge bird, with a massive deep breast, because the kugulal’s weapon was not her beak nor her talons, but her voice. The kugulal had one huge lung in her chest, which gave so much power and volume to her call that she could shatter buildings and drive people mad.

  The kugulal flew over the boat of heaven, shrieking and squealing. Inanna and Ninshibur had to cover their ears because the piercing noise was unbearable. As Ninshibur crouched down, trying to get away from the bird’s screams, she could see the boat begin to shake apart under her feet.

  She pulled her fingers out of her ears, and with her own body quivering and jerking in the waves of sound, she ran her nails between the boards of the boat to scrape up some of the bitumen which made it waterproof. Then she stuck the bitumen in her ears, to block out the noise so she could move and think.

  Ninshibur grabbed Inanna’s sword, stood up tall, and drove the sword straight above her head, right into the breast of the kugulal. The blade ripped open the bird’s lung and suddenly the only noise the kugulal could make was a sad whistle as the air leaked out of her chest.