Aesop's Fables Read online

  Carlo Gébler and Gavin Weston

  PROLOGUE

  The People and Their Pouches

  ‘It’s time to make the first people,’ Prometheus announced to the gods, ‘and fill the earth with them.’

  ‘These creations had better be good,’ said Zeus. ‘I don’t want the planet overrun by idiots.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Prometheus. ‘They’ll be great.’

  Prometheus went out onto the slopes of Mount Olympus and dug down till he found the special dense red clay he needed. He built a kiln. He made charcoal. With pine twigs he fashioned human frames; half were wide-hipped and female, and half were narrow-hipped and male.

  Next, he wet the clay and daubed layer upon layer onto the pine frames to make people with legs and feet, fingers and toes, hands and noses. He fired his kiln, he baked his figures. Once they were cooked, he breathed into their mouths and their substance became flesh. Their eyes opened and they stood up.

  Just then, Prometheus heard footsteps. He turned. It was Zeus with a bundle of carrying-pouches: leather made, open at the top, with straps.

  ‘What’s with the pouches?’ asked Prometheus.

  ‘These,’ said the great god as he threw them down, ‘are a little something for your people. You’re going to love them.’

  ‘Really?’ thought Prometheus. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Okay, people,’ said Zeus. ‘Ladies first.’

  The woman closest stepped forward. Zeus took two pouches and hung one down her back and the other down her front.

  ‘All the mistakes made by other people will go in the front pouch,’ Zeus explained. ‘You’ll want them there, of course, where you can keep an eye on them. And all your own mistakes will go in the pouch at the back. Well, you won’t want to be looking at your own mistakes all the time, will you? Next …’

  The pouches handed out and the people dispatched, the two gods, finally, were alone.

  ‘Wouldn’t it have been better for people to have their own mistakes in front where they can see them and the mistakes of others behind?’

  ‘No,’ said the great god, ‘it’s much better they focus on what’s wrong with everyone else and never see what’s wrong with themselves, obviously. This way they’ll be arguing non-stop, which will be hugely entertaining, plus, because they’ll be fighting all the time, they’ll never come together to challenge our right to rule. Never. I’m telling you, these pouches will be the saving of us gods.’

  ‘The gorged wolf does more harm than the hungry one,’ thought Prometheus. ‘This has to be the worst idea ever.’ He said nothing of course.

  Meddling is the privilege of the powerful.

  1

  CAPRICE, ARROGANCE AND THE EXERCISE OF ARBITRARY POWER

  1.

  The Good and the Bad Things

  The things on earth that did people good were followed everywhere by the things that did them bad, and everyone thought they were the same. But they weren’t: they were different. And for the things that did good, being mistaken for the things that did bad was hateful. They wanted the confusion to stop, so they flew to Olympus to see what Zeus could suggest.

  ‘Oh well,’ said the great god, once they’d explained the problem, ‘this is easy. From today, you’ll live on Mount Olympus with me, while the things that do bad will live on earth. You’ll never be confused with them again.’

  And the great god was right: the things that did people good, because they were such rare and exotic visitors (it was a long way to the earth and it was a journey they rarely made), never again were confused with the things that did people bad.

  Unfortunately, there was a downside: Zeus’s scheme also guaranteed that for people life was one long round of misery, since they shared the planet only with the things that did them bad. Zeus didn’t notice this, of course, but even if he had, he wouldn’t have cared.

  The crooked furrow is the work of the great bull.

  2.

  The Hawk and the Nightingale

  The nightingale sat in the oak tree and sang her plangent, heart-troubling song.

  A hawk passed overhead. First he heard, then he saw her. The hawk was hungry. ‘I shall have this one,’ he thought.

  He swooped down and seized the little songbird in his sharp talons. He carried her to the ground and threw her down on her back. His plan – to kill and eat her.

  Pinned down and looking up at the hawk, the nightingale said, ‘I’m only a morsel. You’ll still be hungry after you’ve eaten me. Wouldn’t you be better to find a bigger, proper meal?’

  ‘Ah ha!’ said the hawk. ‘Here we see most thoughts are wishes. Let you go in order to chase what I don’t have? No way.’

  He broke the little bird’s neck with a hard blow from his heavy beak, split her up the front and tore out the first soft, red, bloody morsel ...

  Once he finished eating, the hawk wiped the blood from his beak using the corpse’s downy stomach feathers. Then, feeling full and clean and dry, he stretched his wings and rose slowly into the sky to look for his next meal.

  Only fools fling away a sardine in the hope of a tuna.

  3.

  The Cock and the Cat

  The cat pounced and floored the cock, pinning him to the earth.

  ‘You can’t eat me,’ said the bird, looking back at the cat’s mouth, its wiry whiskers, its sharp, nasty teeth. ‘Leave me alone. I’ve never harmed you.’

  ‘Maybe you haven’t hurt me directly,’ said the cat, ‘but you’re still an affront. Look at the racket you make every morning, ruining everyone’s sleep. No, you have to go.’

  ‘But I’m supposed to crow like that,’ said the cock, ‘and get everyone up. That’s my job.’

  ‘All right then,’ said the cat. ‘What about the way you breed with your sisters and your mother? That’s disgusting and absolutely sickening. No, you have to go.’

  ‘But that’s my job too,’ said the cock. ‘If I don’t mate with them, then the hens don’t produce eggs and that’s what my master wants – eggs. I have to do it.’

  ‘Listen,’ said the cat, ‘say whatever you want, I’m not going without my dinner. Not happening. An empty belly knows no law, you know.’

  And with that she bit off his head and then she ate him.

  He who does evil never lacks for an excuse.

  4.

  The Disappointed Fishermen

  On the shore a group of fishermen flung their dragnet into the sea and then began to haul it out again.

  It was hard work, for their net was heavier today than it had ever been at any time during all the years they’d worked together.

  ‘I’m telling you,’ said one of the younger, more excitable members of the team, ‘I’ve got a good feeling about this. I’d say we’ve got a catch here that’s going to make us all very rich.’

  All the other fishermen agreed with him except the oldest. ‘Since you don’t know what we’ve actually caught,’ he said, ‘don’t assume anything.’

  In the event, the old fisherman was right, for when they finally got the net up onto the shore, they found that all they had were rocks – masses and masses of them.

  ‘Oh no,’ said the excitable one. ‘There I was thinking we’d a bumper catch and look what it turns out we have. Well, to hell with the sea, I say, and to hell with the god who rules the sea as well. I’m done with fishing. I’m giving it up. Are you all with me?’

  ‘You bet,’ and, ‘Yes, I am,’ shouted the others with the exception, again, of the oldest.

  ‘Hang on, everyone,’ he said. ‘You thought you’d a great catch, then it turned out you’d only caught stones, and now you want to give everything up? Are you mad? You just lost the run of yourselves, and that doesn’t justify turning your back on the life you’ve made. That’s ridiculous.’

  Nobody said anything but the old fisherman felt his co-workers were moving his way.

  ‘Of course,’ he continued, ‘nobody likes feeling how you’re feeling: first the
elation because of what you think you have, then the let-down when you realise what you’ve actually got. But these feelings, they’re easy to get rid of, you know.’

  He picked up a pebble and showed it to everyone.

  ‘See this?’ he said. ‘These are your feelings.’

  He threw the pebble into the sea.

  ‘And now they’re gone, just like that. Bitter regrets because of your own stupidity, just throw them away. With today there is always tomorrow, you know.’

  ‘Yes,’ his listeners murmured, one after the other, ‘good words, very good words. We should remember those words.’

  So they remembered them and later they quoted them to other fishermen and soon every fisherman was saying, ‘With today there is always tomorrow,’ and throwing a pebble into the sea at the same time to make the point really clear.

  Happiness and misery are not fated but self-sought.

  5.

  The Wood-Cutter and the Fox

  Pursued by huntsmen, the fox bolted into the wood-cutter’s yard. He found the wood-cutter himself standing there.

  ‘Friend,’ gasped the fox. ‘There are huntsmen on my tail. I beg you, hide me .’

  ‘This tree is hollow inside,’ said the wood-cutter. He waved at a short, thick trunk. ‘Get you inside. They’ll never find you in there.’

  ‘You’re kindness incarnate,’ said the fox, a wordy fellow, as he wriggled in through the hole in the side, ‘and my gratitude shall be eternal.’

  Once inside, the fox looked back through the hole he’d got in by. He saw the huntsmen who’d pursued him traipse into the yard and walk up to the wood-cutter. They carried bows and arrows.

  ‘Did a fox just run through here by any chance?’ the chief huntsman asked the wood-cutter.

  ‘A fox!’ said the wood-cutter. ‘What, here in my yard?’ He pointed at the log inside which the fox was hiding and rolled his eyes. The fox saw this and crouched lower.

  ‘Yes, a fox,’ replied the huntsman blandly. ‘We were on his tail and we thought we saw him run in here.’

  ‘A fox,’ said the wood-cutter, pretending to draw an imaginary arrow from an imaginary quiver and then firing his imaginary arrow at the hollow tree where the fox was hiding. ‘No, I haven’t seen a fox.’

  The fox saw everything and understood the wood-cutter’s meaning. Fortunately, the huntsman didn’t understand. He just thought the wood-cutter was a bit strange.

  ‘Oh well, not to worry,’ he said. ‘Mr Fox has given us the slip again. Never mind, we’ll get him another day.’

  He and the other hunters sloped off, and as soon as the yard was empty the fox clambered out of the hollow log and began to slink off in the opposite direction to the huntsmen.

  ‘Hey,’ the wood-cutter shouted after him. ‘Haven’t you forgotten something?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said the fox.

  ‘Yes, you have. You haven’t said thank you.’

  ‘There is one word,’ said the fox, ‘which may serve as a rule of practice for all one’s life – reciprocity. Had you really tried to hide me, thanks would be due. But you tried to give me away. That’s why I owe you nothing.’

  The fox vanished.

  ‘Ungrateful wretch,’ the wood-cutter shouted, but the fox was too far on to hear.

  The blessing of the evil genii are really curses.

  The Frogs Who Demanded a King

  6.

  The Frogs Who Demanded a King

  The frogs, having no king and living in anarchy, sent a delegate to Zeus.

  ‘Please, great god,’ he said, ‘appoint a king to rule over us.’ The delegate hopped away and Zeus was left alone, fuming. ‘Don’t they understand that well-being and tranquillity are found in the moderation of their own desires?’ thought the great god. ‘No, of course they don’t. So then they come to me and I have to sort their problem out. Lazy, good-for-nothing frogs …’

  He went out onto the slopes of Olympus and selected a tree stump.

  ‘This’ll teach them,’ he said. ‘There you are, frogs,’ Zeus shouted down.

  He hurled the stump towards the pond where they lived. It landed with a terrifying splash. The frogs were so frightened by the noise they all hid under the banks.

  ‘There’s a king for you,’ they heard Zeus shouting. ‘Enjoy …’

  Time passed. The frogs forgot their terror, crept from their hiding places and swam up to their new king floating in the middle of their pond.

  ‘What kind of king is this?’ said one.

  ‘A very big king,’ said a second.

  ‘And a very silent king,’ said a third.

  More time passed. The new king still hadn’t said a word. Some of the bolder frogs decided to hop up onto him and get a better look.

  They clambered on to the stump but still nothing was said.

  ‘This isn’t a proper king,’ said one frog finally. ‘What kind of king allows his subjects to sit on his head? No, no, he won’t do. Zeus will have to do better than this.’

  They sent their delegate back to the great god.

  ‘Zeus,’ he said, ‘that king you sent us does absolutely nothing except bob about in our pond. Please, send us a proper king who’ll do what a proper king does and who won’t let us sit on his head.’

  ‘You want a proper king?’ said Zeus. ‘All right, I’ll give you a proper king if that’s what you want.’

  And he dispatched a water-serpent who ate them all up.

  The deepest hole is the one you dug.

  7.

  Aphrodite and the Lovesick House-Ferret

  Before cats were common, people used ferrets to kill any rats or mice that came into their houses. The ferrets were long, wriggly, furry creatures with pointy noses and they were very good at this kind of work.

  Now, in those distant times, it happened that a female house-ferret fell in love with a young man in her city who had lovely dark skin, shiny blue-black hair and a beautiful singing voice.

  The house-ferret went to the goddess Aphrodite.

  ‘I love him with all my heart,’ said the ferret to the goddess, ‘but he will never look at me, let alone love me – not as I am now, a mere ferret. However, if I was a girl, I’m sure he’d love me, and I know I’d love him back.’

  The goddess found herself pitying this ferret. ‘All right, I’ll make you a woman,’ she said and she turned the ferret into a woman with soft brown skin and black eyes.

  When the young man saw the girl in the street of their city the next day he was smitten. She was so beautiful. He spoke to her. Her voice was so lovely, so smooth, so stirring. He decided on the spot they must marry. He proposed and she accepted, of course.

  A priest married the pair, watched by an invisible Aphrodite.

  ‘Her body has changed,’ Aphrodite said to herself, ‘but has her personality?’

  The couple retired to the nuptial chamber and the goddess, determined to answer her own question, slipped in after them. She found them in the bed, naked under the purple sheets, consecrating their union.

  Aphrodite conjured up a mouse and set it going. The little grey thing scampered across the bedroom’s stone floor.

  The bride, although in the midst of love-making, smelled its mouse scent and heard its tiny feet scratching as it ran – both irresistible to her.

  ‘Mouse!’ she shouted joyously.

  She pushed her new husband off her, flung herself onto the floor and scampered after it, snapping her teeth. The mouse got under the bed. She was about to follow when the goddess materialised and put her foot on the bride’s leg to stop her moving.

  ‘I see you now for what you really are,’ said the goddess to the naked bride. ‘You might look female but inside you’ve a ferret’s heart and I don’t want this lovely young man wasting his life as your partner. You won’t make him happy and he won’t make you happy either.’

  Aphrodite clicked her fingers and the new bride turned back into a ferret. She dashed under the bed and re-emerged a moment l
ater with the mouse in her mouth.

  ‘You won’t want to thank me now,’ said Aphrodite to the groom, ‘but later you will.’

  The goddess vanished and the ferret slipped away too.

  You can change costume but not character.

  8.

  The Little Gudgeon, the Dolphins and the Whales

  The dolphins and the whales were brawling on the sea’s surface and in the depths their battling could be heard.

  A little gudgeon swam up and poked his head out of the water. In every direction he saw dolphins and whales twisting, roiling, bleeding and biting, and he saw the sea was red with blood too.

  ‘You’ll have to make peace sooner or later,’ the little gudgeon shouted in his tiny, piping voice at the fighting creatures, ‘so why not do so now before one of you is killed?’

  A blood-smeared dolphin, with bite marks up and down his back, heard the gudgeon and turned to him. ‘I’d rather die than take advice from a minnow like you,’ he said, ‘and I’m sure all the other great fish up here will be of the same opinion. So stop interfering and get back down to the depths where you belong before I snap you in two …’

  By sunset, dead whales and dolphins were floating everywhere and crowds of squawking gulls came to peck out their eyes. Oh that the great had listened to the small gudgeon.