The Tale of the Duchess’s Challenge
Once upon a time, etc., etc., brokenhearted man, identical duplicates, windmills, snowstorm, castle that looked like a big toad…and there we are.
“My brothers shall not go with you,” the duchess avouched. “But I will make you this offer instead—if one of you can beat me in a footrace, you shall leave with as great a reward as the strongest among you can carry. If you fail, however, I’ll cut off your heads.”
“We agree to your terms!” Jack affirmed, for he had already conceived of yet another ridiculous plan.
It was decided that the first to bring water back from a distant well would be declared the winner. A crowd gathered to watch the race. Jack slapped Harry on the back and announced, “You’re up.”
“Harry…that’s Detachable Leg, right?” It had been over a week since I’d traveled with the huntsmen, and I’d started to lose track.
“That’s the one.”
“Got it. Please, go on.”
The duchess picked up a pitcher, and Harry fastened his leg on and grabbed one as well. They commenced the race at the very same moment, but a mere eyeblink later, Harry could no longer be seen. He ran so fast that to the crowd, it seemed as if the wind had rushed past them. The duchess was only a little way along when he made it to the well, filled up his pitcher, and started his return journey.
He’d run very far by then, and when he was halfway back, he was overcome with exhaustion. Feeling assured of his victory, he put down his pitcher, took off his leg, and stretched out for a nap. But he was fearful he might oversleep and lose the race, so he decided to make himself an uncomfortable pillow out of a horse’s skull that was lying closeby.
My forehead wrinkled. “A horse’s skull.”
“It’s what he used.”
“He rested his head on a convenient…horse’s skull.”
“This is the part of the story you find unbelievable?”
“I’m familiar with bloodthirsty nobles and death races. Horse-skull pillows are weird.”
Meanwhile, the duchess, who was a speedy woman herself—easily as fast as the fastest of ordinary people—was rushing back from the well. When she noticed her opponent lying there asleep, she cackled, overturned his pitcher, and ranon.
“Soon their heads will decorate my wall,” she chortled. “Six identical heads at one go—what a coup! I will be the envy of all the other head-collecting duchesses.”
All would have been lost had Clem not positioned himself at the top of the castle’s tallest tower for the best view of the race. With his keen eyesight, he’d seen everything that hadpassed. Taking careful aim with his bow, he shot the horse skull out from under Harry’s noggin without so much as severing a single one of the runner’s hairs. Harry woke with a start.
“Oh, my goodness!” Harry yelped, realizing his water had been spilled. “I must hurry, or I shall lose both the race and my head!”
Quick as a wink, he whisked on his leg, sprinted to the well, refilled the pitcher, and made it to the finish line the moment before the duchess stepped across.
“I’m glad I made an effort at the end there!” he trumpeted as the crowd cheered him. “What I was doing in the beginning could hardly be called running at all.”
The duchess stamped her feet in rage over her loss and began plotting to renege on her promise. “How wonderful that you have defeated me,” she grated out through clenched teeth. “We must celebrate your victory. Come with me, so you may eat and drink your fill!”
She brought the six of them to a room that had an iron floor, and iron doors, and windows set with iron bars. In the middle of a room was an iron table groaning under the weight of iron platters full of delicious food. “Go on in. Have as much as you like,” the duchess encouraged them.
While the six men were tucking into their meal—
“You went into a room with an iron floor and bars across the windows? That didn’t make you suspicious?”
“Did you miss the part about the delicious food?”
“Is that all it takes for you to traipse right into an obvious death trap?”
“I am highly motivated by delicious food.”
While the six men were tucking into their meal, the duchess shut and locked the doors, then stomped downstairs to the kitchen to see her cook.
“Those wretched men tricked me!” she fulminated. “Light as great a fire as you can beneath the iron floor. Soon they shall see I never, ever lose a bet.”
