The Fearsome Beast

ONE

There was once a village in a valley, ringed by mountains on three sides and a great dark cave on the other. Nobody had ever ventured inside this cave, for it was well known by all that a huge and fearsome beast resided therein.

Nevertheless it was a common sport among the village children to throw pebbles in at the mouth in hopes of striking the beast. This tradition continued with each new generation of children, despite the fears of many a mother, because the fearsome beast never did stir and some even began to speculate that perhaps it had finally died and rid them all of its terrible presence.

One evening as the villagers were gathering around the crickle-crackle fire, a roaring was heard from the sky and the earth and the mountains but most of all from the great dark cave. The villagers knew this must be the sound of the fearsome beast, raised from dormancy at long last by a need to feed upon the villagers.

While much of the tribe fled to the relative safety of the mountain-side, the Village Chief knew it was her responsibility to establish a dialogue with the beast and hopefully meet its demands without unnecessary bloodshed. Walking up to the mouth of the great dark cave, she called in the almost-forgotten tongue of her ancestors: ‘O, great beast, why do you stir?’

And the beast replied, in a voice which curdled the milk in the cows’ udders: ‘Because my home is full of stones!’

‘Stones?’

‘Yes,’ repeated the beast. ‘Stones thrown by your children for centuries, depriving me of living space.’

‘O, great beast, we will remove the stones for you, and ensure our children never act so inconsiderately again.’

‘Let it be done,’ agreed the beast, and was heard no more.



TWO

Naturally the job of venturing into the fearsome beast’s domain to remove centuries of rubble was not in great demand, and volunteers were only found with the promise of prime cuts from every slaughtered animal for the next three lunar cycles.

Although it was much feared amongst the removal party that they would find themselves eye to eye with the beast, they saw no sign of it. Nevertheless they were only too pleased to complete the week’s work and return to their other duties.

The Village Chief, feeling that she ought to ensure the beast’s temper had been satisfied, took it upon herself to once again stand at the mouth of the cave and call out: ‘O, great beast, is our business complete?’

‘Not quite,’ replied the great beast, shaking the leaves from the trees with its growl. ‘I wish to talk with you below the earth.’

‘Then I will certainly come,’ replied the Chief, descending underground without a glance to her advisors in the valley, who were silently waving their hands in warning of a trap.

The great dark cave lived up to its name and nothing could be seen within, but the Chief could hear the laboured breathing of the beast and smell its putrid breath. ‘O, great beast, what do you say?’

‘I wish to make another deal,’ explained the beast, whose voice down here was loud and booming enough to deafen the unwary. ‘I understand that your village places great value on metal.’

‘That is true,’ said the Chief, ‘because we are under constant threat of invasion by rival villages. Our spot in the mountains is much desired, and we need metal to forge our weapons.’

‘I have a great supply of metal in the bowels of my cave. The heat of my breath and the tear of my claws can quickly make weapons of it.’

‘What do you ask in return for this service, great beast?’

‘Only that I am left alone. No member of your village must ever disturb my peace again.’

‘Very well.’

‘Upon every New Moon I shall rise to the surface and leave a supply of weapons at the mouth of my cave. Your people will retrieve these as quickly and quietly as possible, and expect nothing more of me until next New Moon. In return all I request is my solitude.’

‘But great beast, what do you gain from this agreement?’

‘Although your people have disturbed me, they have not yet attacked me. Another tribe would probably not do me the same courtesy.’



THREE

So the deal was made, and several more centuries passed. Nobody ever heard the beast in its great dark cave, but every New Moon it left weapons as promised. These weapons were far stronger than anything humans could forge, ensuring no enemy could over-run the village, which quickly grew into a town and later a city.

With this expansion came the need for greater leadership and a parliament was established in which two main parties debated the issues of the day, many of which related to the fearsome beast.

The Freedom Party adopted the stance that any beast which would make deals with humans must be fearful of them. It had obviously grown old and feeble, striking a deal only to protect itself from the villagers’s wrath. Enslaving the beast would enable many more weapons to be produced.

By contrast, the Wisdom Party insisted the fearsome beast could not be trusted, and that the deal was lulling the city into a false sense of security. The city should continue the deal but be prepared to take arms against the fearsome beast when it inevitably attacked.

These two parties could never agree and so the issue remained hotly contested, eventually escalating into a civil war. Blissfully unaware of this, the fearsome beast honoured the deal until there was nobody left alive to claim the monthly weapons bounty.