Chapter Fourteen

Jack remained against the door as snatches of song drifted down the passageway to his right.

The spacious entrance area had a collection of wide-backed chairs gathered at the far end by the double windows. A quick glance to his left revealed a short flight of steps. He guessed the kitchen had to be at the other end of the passageway from the succulent smells wafting towards him, and the sound of pots being moved about.

Forcing himself to move, he stole to the steps and climbed a couple before standing on his toes. He could make out four rooms, which he assumed to be bedrooms.

He stepped back down and noticed steps leading to a doorway on the other side of the stairs. His shaking limbs and pounding heart had him rooted to the spot before he, once again, made himself move.

Ducking through the doorway, he found himself in a short passageway, decorated with plants and wall hangings, which led to a room. Sweat prickled his skin as he crossed the passageway on trembling legs. He pushed open the already slightly ajar door, and his breath escaped noisily; the room was empty.

Taking care not to shut the door fully, he looked around the room, which appeared to be a study. A pair of wide armed, upholstered chairs sat in the middle between the door and the fireplace. A large desk and chair faced the window, with another chair in the corner. Against the far wall, opposite the window, stood a bookcase, stretching from floor to ceiling and from one end of the wall to the other, filled with books of varying size, many with exquisitely tooled spines.

His gaze swept over the books, but he instantly dismissed trying to pick one. Crossing to the desk, he ignored the usual accoutrements found on a writing desk, his attention fully on a brass-handled curved dagger in a sheath inlaid with red and green enamel. A fan-shaped decoration topped the polished handle.

The weightiness of the dagger caught Jack by surprise. Withdrawing it from the sheath, he marvelled at the workmanship; a thin enamel patterning ran down the outer edge of the blade. He guessed the dagger must be purely ornamental for the tip was blunt.

Even as he decided to take the dagger, he heard approaching footsteps and the sound of singing getting closer. His breath caught, his gaze darting this way and that, desperate to find somewhere to hide. Only then did he notice another bookcase alongside the door. The bottom shelves were hidden by doors.

Hurriedly replacing the dagger, he pulled the doors open, but none had space for him to hide. Until he got to the furthest one, in the corner, which had just enough space for him to squeeze in. Pulling the door to, but not shutting it tightly, he hoped being in the shadowy corner meant the female wouldn’t notice the slightly open bookcase door.

Peering through the narrow gap, Jack’s vision was blocked by the door to the room as it swung open. He couldn’t see the female, but he could hear her moving around the room, humming. Believing she’d left the room, he wondered how long he should wait before stepping from his hiding place. But he could hear her walking back and forth, occasionally coming back to the room, and he suspected the door had been left open.

He could still hear her singing. Despite his hatred of tall-folk, even he couldn’t deny the mellifluousness of her voice.

The horse in the paddock whinnied and there was a distant answering call.

She stopped singing. After a few minutes, Jack heard her outside. When she spoke, he guessed she must be close by the window of the room.

Whatever she said, he didn’t understand. It struck him then that, of course, they would converse in their own language. He scrunched up his face, annoyed, for he wanted to know what they were saying.

Jack assumed the rich, deep male voice that answered belonged to her husband.

They spoke a little more, then nothing.

Beads of sweat covering him, Jack heard the female back in the house. Ignoring his softly growling stomach, he couldn’t bring himself to move. He had no idea when the best time would be for him to escape. Not knowing their routine, terrified of being caught, he remained where he was.

A loud voice startled Jack awake. He just managed to stop himself crying out and leaping from his hiding place. Holding his breath, he wrapped his arms around his knees, certain the giant was about to discover him.

The voice that had woken Jack belonged to the male tall-folk; he said something, and the female replied. They exchanged more words, which ended in gentle laughter.

Having gotten over his initial fright, Jack’s curiosity began to get the better of him. Very slowly, he pushed the door open slightly and peered over the top.

Standing at the desk, the male tall-folk had his back to Jack. Tall and well-built, his hair was more grey than black. He placed a tankard on the desk and proceeded to roll up the sleeves of his loose tunic.

Hunkering down again, Jack clamped his lips together, trying to control his breathing, convinced the tall-male would soon hear him. His eyes stretched wide as he realised night had fallen. He’d never find his way to the beanstalk in the dark. But he couldn’t remain here. Surely, it would only be a matter of time before one or the other of them found him.

Jack fought to calm himself. He didn’t have to stay in the house. Once the couple had gone to sleep, he’d be able to leave. If the door was locked, he’d open a window. He could hide just past the treeline near the path, and once it got light enough, he’d make his escape.

Chancing another look, Jack noticed a cloth-covered object on the desk that hadn’t been there before.

The male removed the cloth, revealing a small harp, then sat on the chair. Carved out of a dark wood, it gleamed in the lamplight. When the male repositioned it, Jack could see the carving on the pillar was that of a woman.

Settling in his chair, he leaned forward, plucked a string, and said something.

The carved woman-figure opened her eyes.

So shocked was Jack, he almost fell out of the cupboard.

She opened her mouth and began to sing.

Her voice… Jack had never heard anything like it. Tears filled his eyes. Surely no mortal creature could sing as sweetly.

When the song finished, Jack almost called out for her to sing again. But he needn’t have worried.

The male plucked another string, and she began another song. This time, he sang with her. From beyond the room, the female joined them.

After the third song, she walked in. It seemed to Jack as if she had something in her arms.

They spoke, then she leaned towards her husband.

When she moved aside, Jack could see what she’d been holding. A cat, larger than any he’d ever seen, with long fur, a rich reddish-brown. But its eyes caused Jack’s heart to skip a beat. They seemed almost human and appeared to be focussed on Jack. It tilted its head slightly and started to lean forward when the male began stroking it between the ears. It’s eyes half-closed, it looked up at him with an expression akin to adoration.

Jack sat unmoving, terrified the cat might smell him and come to investigate. Yet, he also wondered at the serious way the giant spoke to it, in the same manner one would to a person.

To Jack’s overwhelming relief, the couple soon left the room with the cat. Counting to fifty, satisfied they weren’t returning, he crept out of his hiding place. Grimacing as he straightened up, his bones and muscles complaining, he took a faltering step forward and peered into the gloomy corridor. All was dark and quiet, and he hoped they had gone to bed.

Feeling his way to the desk in the darkened room, he cursed softly when he realised the harp wasn’t there. He’d hoped to take that as his prize. His fingers brushed the curved dagger, and he slipped it into his trouser pocket. Making his way to the window, he pushed it open and proceeded to climb out.

A growling meow and a bellow stopped him.

“Stop. Intruder.”

Crying out, not daring to turn, Jack scrabbled out the window. Another cry leapt from him as something tore through his trousers, raking his leg. Falling onto the soft dirt, he fought to get his feet back under him. Not daring to check his leg, he took off at a running limp towards what he hoped to be the path, for he could barely see in the dark.

“I knew I smelled something different.” The male’s voice chased after him. “Do not return, human, for I will recognise your smell.”

Having stumbled down the path a little way, Jack forced himself to stop, unable to see the path ahead of him. He had no choice but to wait until it got lighter. Something warm and wet trickled down his leg and he realised he must be bleeding. He sat against a tree, hugging himself as it had gotten much colder. The breeze moaning through the trees and eyes glimmering from tree hollows stole any chance of claiming even a few moments rest.