Little Tom and the Giant Denbras
Here is one of the oldest tales told in Cornwall. They were also called "foolish tales" there. And it was loved to be told by an old cheerful tinsmith from Lelant.In ancient times, when Cornwall was still full of giants, not far from Mount's Bay, there lived a fine lad in a village called Little Tom.
He was a fine lad, indeed, but he didn't much like to work. He worked when he felt like it, but he didn't want to take up a steady job.
True, Tom wasn't very tall—we mean by the standards of those ancient times when, as they say, all the men in Cornwall were taller than one another—about eight feet tall, give or take.
But he had broad shoulders, a strong back, and arms and legs as if made of iron.
His old mother often told him to find a real job and earn at least enough to feed himself. Because, you see, he always ate enough for two.
And so, one morning, to please his mother, or perhaps because he was courting a beauty from Crolas at the time, Little Tom set off for Market Jew to look for work. You understand, he couldn't propose to the girl if he wasn't earning anything himself. First, Tom went to a man named Honney (short for Hannibal)—he was a master tinsmith and also ran an inn where anyone could stop by and have a mug of good ale with him.
"Do you need a strong, young, and willing worker?" Tom asked him.
"I'm very sorry," replied Honney, "but I don't have any steady work for you right now. But listen! I need to send a cart of beer barrels to St. Ives, and you could do me a good service, and I'll pay you handsomely for it. What do you say, do we have a deal?"
They struck a deal right away. Tom brought out a team of four oxen, and the owner himself helped Tom load the beer barrels onto the cart, even adding an extra barrel for Tom, so he wouldn't get bored on the road and could share with any good travelers he might meet.
And with a shout of "Gee-up!" to the oxen, Tom set off from the yard.
He rode and rode, and suddenly—stop! Right in the middle of the road, a tall stone wall had sprung up, with wide, sturdy gates locked tight. No way to pass!
"Ah, those wretched giants! This must be their doing!" Tom was furious. "Who ever heard of building a wall on a public road! It must be that giant Denbras! The giant among giants, the strongest of the strong! Well, I'm no pushover either. We'll see who comes out on top!"
And Tom put all his strength into pushing the stone gates and, with one mighty shove, flung them open.
"Gee-up, let's go!" Tom shouted to the oxen. "Gee-up!" And the cart with the beer creaked and rolled over the stone slabs of the courtyard straight toward the giant's castle.
Now, you should know that by that time, the giant Denbras had begun to age and had grown a bit deaf. He would never have heard the creaking of the cart if it weren't for his little dog: it started barking so loudly that it could wake the dead.
Denbras sat up in bed, stretched, rubbed his eyes, and then went out into the yard. At first, he didn't see Tom or his cart because it never occurred to him to look right under his feet. And while he was looking around, Tom had a good chance to examine the giant.
Old Denbras was at least fifteen feet tall and, of course, broad in the shoulders, but a bit portly. That was due to his gluttony and laziness, and by old age, he had developed a bit of a belly. The giant's hair stuck out like tufts of dry heather, and his teeth were worn down almost to the gums—all because he ate sheep whole, wool and bones included!
But Little Tom wasn't the least bit frightened, even though this was his first encounter with Denbras.
"Hello!" roared Denbras when he finally spotted Tom. "Who are you, you puny runt? How dare you come here with your creaky cart? Ah, is that beer? Did you bring it for me? I wasn't expecting that!"
"You can have a sip," said Tom, "but this beer isn't for you. It's for St. Ives. And I'm passing through your yard because it's on the public road!"
"Ah, you cheeky little pup!" Denbras was furious. "Get out of here while you're still in one piece, or I'll break some sticks and thrash you!"
"Cock-a-doodle-doo! Aren't you crowing a bit early, old rooster?" Tom shot back.
At that, the giant turned as dark as a thundercloud with rage and, without another word, grabbed a massive elm tree, twenty feet tall, and yanked it right out of the ground, roots and all.
But while he was stripping the trunk of small branches and twigs to make a proper smooth club, Tom unloaded all the beer barrels from the cart, took off one wheel—and he had a fine shield; he removed a large oak axle—and that became a sturdy, smooth club. The giant was still busy cleaning his "stick," but Tom was already waiting for him, ready.
"Come on, hurry up," Tom urged Denbras. "I'm waiting for you! Here's my shield, and here's my sword!" And he brandished the wheel and the oak axle from the cart.
Finally, the opponents met.
But the giant turned out to be quite clumsy, and he swung his club wildly, without aiming, from which Tom concluded that he was also a bit nearsighted. Tom, on the other hand, was much more agile. He wielded his club so skillfully that the poor giant was soon out of breath.
Tom could have wounded Denbras with the sharp end of the oak axle long ago, but every time he felt sorry for the old giant. He simply deflected the blows of the giant's twenty-foot club with his wheel. Poor Denbras kept missing, and sometimes, when he swung too hard, he'd fall flat on the ground.
But Tom nobly offered him a hand to help him up and even brought him a barrel of ale to restore his strength.
However, seeing that the sun was setting, Tom decided to give the old giant a little poke to make him move faster. And he thought he gave Denbras a gentle jab with his spear.
But—oh, woe!—Little Tom didn't realize his own strength and made the thrust too sharply. The oak axle pierced the giant clean through, and he toppled to the ground like a felled tree.
Tom was in despair. He knelt beside the giant and tried to comfort him with words.
"Don't lose heart, old friend!" Tom said. "You'll recover soon. It was an accident! Did I mean to hurt you? Who would have thought your skin was so tender!"
But the giant only groaned in response. Tom carefully pulled the oak axle out of the wound and plugged the hole tightly with chunks of turf he cut right there. Old Denbras felt a bit better. Then Tom ran to the cart, broke the bottom off one of the beer barrels, and brought it to the giant's mouth like a mug.
"Drink, dear friend, drink!" he urged the giant. Finally, Denbras spoke.
"Nothing can help me now, lad!" he whispered faintly. "It's over! The end!.. But I died in an honest fight, didn't I?"
"You did," Tom answered, nearly in tears.
"And you're a fine lad! A true Cornishman. You fought honorably, and for that, I love you. It was a glorious and honest battle... My strength is leaving me. Bend closer, lad, I'll tell you my last wish..."
And old Denbras told Tom that, since he had no relatives, he was making Tom his heir and ordering him to take all the treasures he had hidden in the cave beneath the castle.
"Now help me up to the top of the hill," he asked Tom.
They struggled up the hill, and the giant sat down on his favorite stone bed, leaning his back against a wide, flat rock.
"Bury me with honor!" he told Tom. "Here, where I'm sitting now. According to the laws of our ancient land. Here are the stones you'll use to surround me. I've long prepared a large quoit. Bury me with honor and be kind to my dog!"
"I'll do everything, old friend, just don't die!"
But the giant shook his head and breathed his last.
Tom surrounded Denbras with large stones on all sides, folded his hands on his knees—in short, did everything with honor. Then he went down to the castle yard, put the wheel and oak axle back in place, which didn't take him long, led the oxen and cart back onto the road, locked the castle gates tightly, and set off for St. Ives. He delivered the beer as instructed and returned the next day to Market Jew by a different road.
It was a holiday—the eve of St. John's Day—and bonfires were burning on all the hills.
In Market Jew, people were dancing in the streets to the sound of bagpipes and drums. Honney, the innkeeper, was celebrating with everyone. He was very pleased that Tom had returned with the cart and his oxen in good health.
"Well done!" he said to Tom when he had eaten and drunk after the journey. "Stay and work for me for a year, and I'll pay you a good wage."
"I can't," Tom replied, "though I couldn't find a better place."
"Then why do you say 'no'?" Honney was surprised. "You were just asking me for work yesterday."
But Tom didn't want to tell him about his encounter with the giant Denbras, so he said:
"You see, during this time, my grandfather, who lived in the mountains, passed away and left me his land and money. I need to go there quickly and bury the old man with honor."
Under this pretext, Tom left the hospitable innkeeper and hurried to his beloved in Crolas. He told her everything without hiding anything; they got married and lived happily ever after in the giant's castle.
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