Jack – Part II

I’m trying out a little game I thought up. The game is to retell a fairy tale or children’s story while omitting one of the major characters.

This is Jack and the Beanstalk, without the beanstalk (Part 2). Part 1. Part 3. Part 4.

Jack the Bandit

Hired muscle is welcome in almost any bandit gang, and this one proved no exception. Jack found he had a previously undiscovered talent for thuggery; it didn’t take much thinking, it won him respect, and it provided an outlet for all the frustration he’d felt in the other parts of his life.

It’s possible that Jack might have spent the rest of his life as a bandit thug, winding up as a drunk, and eventually as a dead drunk, in a ditch behind a tavern somewhere. It’s possible, and in fact quite likely, except that one day… Jack found a sword.

He didn’t *mean* to find a sword. He only meant to unload all the bundles from the travellers’ baggage cart. He certainly didn’t expect one of the bundles to speak to him.

“Pick me up.” said the bundle.
“What?” said Jack. He looked down at the baggage.
“Are you stupid or something?” snapped the bundle. “Pick me up. You’re going to need me in just a little bit.”

Very slowly, Jack picked up the bundle. It was long and thin; someone had wrapped a blanket around something, and tied it up with a little piece of twine.

“Very good.” said the bundle said in condescending tones. “Now unwrap me, and be quick about it. I can’t help you if I’m all bundled up like this.”

He reached for the twine. It seemed to come apart of its own accord; the blanket slid away to reveal a sword.

“Was it you talking to me?” asked Jack. Swords didn’t usually talk to him, but then again, neither did bundles.

“Thunk.”

Jack was confused. What kind of an answer was “Thunk”? However, he didn’t have time to think about it; he was distracted by the arrow that had buried itself in the wagon beside him.

“Maybe you should put your head down.” said the sword. Jack put his head down.

Perhaps the greatest problem that any bandit faces is this: The more you want to steal something, the more someone else wants to keep it. A magic sword certainly qualifies as something worth taking, and the guards, springing from ambush, certainly thought it worth keeping.

But the guards had a problem: Jack was holding the sword. And although Jack was a moron quite out of his depth, the sword was a magic weapon and was perfectly at home in the situation.

For Jack, the next few moments were a blur. In fairness, the next few moments were a blur for the guards, too. And for the bandits.

At the feast that night, all the talk was of how he had dehorsed the captain of the guard, charged and scattered the bowmen, and turned catastrophe to triumph. The adulation caught him unawares, but he was greatly pleased at all the attention he was receiving.

The bandit leader had not made it back, but the bandits hardly cared. They had a new leader – a better one – one who they were sure would carry them to heights which, in their giddy greed, they could scarcely dream of. They all went to bed that night with visions of glory coursing through their drunken thoughts.

That was how Jack became the Bandit Leader.

Indeed, Jack himself could not dream of the heights to which he would attain. He didn’t have to. He had a sword, and it did all the dreaming (and the executing) for him. As the months and years passed, its visions came to be.

With every caravan captured, every village plundered and every township terrorized, yet another stone was laid in the foundation of his legacy.

Jack’s name came to be on the tongue of every thief and robber; he was despised by every magistrate and hated by every honest man. All feared him. Bad men of every kind flocked to him, drawn by visions of power and wealth, until he was no longer a bandit leader or even a bandit chief, but a Bandit King. His underlings had underlings who had underlings who had servants who had thugs who had thumb-breakers who had stone-throwing little boys who aspired some day to be underlings.

His gangs controlled villages and held entire towns in terror. A river of stolen gold flowed through the country and drained into the sea of his treasury. No army could capture him; no ambitious lieutenant could unseat him. Through all of it, the sword was at his side.

And the man himself?

None of the bandits dared speak of it, but each and every one of them saw it – Jack was changing. He was growing taller; his shoulders broader. He’d always been unusually big and strong – a hulking lad, but this… this growth was beyond that of any other man. Every day he wielded the sword, he grew in strength and power. Men saw his massive frame, and shuddered.

There was a gnawing inside of him. When he walked among his men, his presence brought no friendship, only fear. Once he’d been a close part of a small band. Now, leading a hundred times as many, he was alone.

In his dreams, he was haunted. He knew, but could never say aloud, what he had become. It tortured him. It never stopped.

One night, things came to a head.

“What’s the matter with you?” asked the sword one night. “You almost let that that one get past me.”

Jack looked down at the man he had just killed.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”
He stooped and wiped the sword clean on the corpse’s jerkin. It was made of the finest quality leather – soft and absorbent. He shook his head. The more ambitious the lieutenant, the better they dressed. By now he could spot challengers just by their foolish fashion sense.

“I know what a death wish looks like.” said the sword. “I’ve granted more than my share of them. You came close tonight.”

“I don’t want to die,” said Jack, “but there’s nothing worth living for.”

“I’m not sure of that.” said the sword. “I think I know what you need.”

“Look around you.” said Jack. “I have everything on earth. If there’s something I want… I just take it. There is nothing, Nothing! that I want that I don’t have. How could you possibly name something I lack?”

“What I’m thinking of doesn’t exist on Earth.” said the sword. “There is a castle,” it continued, “that floats in the sky. Within it lies the most marvellous treasure ever known.”

“Treasure, I have.” said Jack.

“No, no treasure like this.” replied the sword. “There is gold, to be sure, but more than that, there is a goose that lays eggs of gold. More than the goose, there is a harp. The harp speaks truth, and plays music more beautiful than any human ear has ever heard.”

“Well,” said Jack, “what can I lose?” With the toe of his boot, he prodded the body of his one-time friend.

“Another day, another duel.”

“It won’t be simple.” said the sword. “A giant lives in the castle. You will have to bring many men to defeat him.”

“Men, I have.” said Jack, “This castle…. you said it is in the sky?”

“It is,” said the sword, “but there is a way to reach it. You will need a ship to carry you and your men there. As you may guess, it cannot be an ordinary ship. However, there is one man who can build it for you. He is the greatest builder in the world, and can build a ship of any material you choose to name. If you ask him to build a ship of clouds, it will bear you to the castle.”

When Jack sought out the the master shipbuilder and told him of his wish, the shipwright just shook his head. “You don’t want such a ship.” said the builder. “Nothing good ever came of a ship like that.”
“Can you make it?” asked Jack.
“I’ll tell you what,” said the builder, “Let me build you a ship of diamond. It will be without compare; no noble’s mansion or King’s palace will ever boast such splendour as this ship.”

But Jack would not listen to him; he said that he wanted a ship of clouds and no other.

“Let me build you a ship of iron,” suggested the builder. “It will be impregnable; no ball or shot will breach its hull. In such a ship you could conquer all the seas.”

But Jack still would not listen and demanded once more the ship of clouds.

“Let me build you a ship of fish-scales,” offered the builder. “It will cut the water as though it were air; this ship will be faster than any known to man; it will sail the world seven times in the time another vessel sails a league.”

Still Jack stood firm, and when the builder saw that Jack would not be swayed, he hung his head sadly.

“Very well,” he said. “I will build the ship. But it will cost you everything you have. Come back in three months, and it shall be ready for you.”

While the builder worked on the ship, Jack made his preparations. He gathered all his gold and mustered all his men. He stock-piled weapons and supplies.

When three months had passed, Jack came to the dock with all his men, his wealth and his weapons. The ship was there, and so was the builder.

“You said it would cost me everything I have.” said Jack. “Here it is.”
He waved his hand to his assembled men. They hauled forth wagon after wagon; each one was filled with coin, bullion and precious stones.

The builder seemed unmoved by the mound of treasure.
“Take the ship.” he said. “But I think the price you’ve paid me is not the price that matters.”

Jack did not know what to say to that, so he quickly shouted to his men to load up the ship.

That was how Jack, the Bandit King, traveled to the Giant’s country.