When Apples Grew Noses and White Horses Flew Read online

  When Apples Grew Noses

  and White Horses Flew

  TALES OF TI-JEAN

  Jan Andrews

  Illustrations by

  Dušan Petričić

  Groundwood Books / House of Anansi Press

  Toronto Berkeley

  Copyright © 2011 by Jan Andrews

  Illustrations copyright © 2011 by Dušan Petričić

  Published in Canada and the USA in 2011 by Groundwood Books

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Distribution of this electronic edition via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal. Please do not participate in electronic piracy of copyrighted material; purchase only authorized electronic editions. We appreciate your support of the author’s rights.

  This edition published in 2011 by

  Groundwood Books / House of Anansi Press Inc.

  110 Spadina Avenue, Suite 801

  Toronto, ON, M5V 2K4

  Tel. 416-363-4343

  Fax 416-363-1017

  or c/o Publishers Group West

  1700 Fourth Street, Berkeley, CA 94710

  www.groundwoodbooks.com

  LIBRARY AND ARCHIVES CANADA CATALOGUING IN PUBLICATIONAndrews, Jan

  When apples grew noses and white horses flew : tales of Ti-Jean / Jan Andrews ; illustrations by Dušan Petričić.

  ISBN 978-0-88899-952-8

  1. Ti-Jean (Legendary character) — Juvenile fiction. 2. Children’s

  stories, Canadian (English). I. Petričić, Dušan II. Title. III. Title:

  Tales of Ti-Jean.

  PS8551.N37W54 2011 jC813’.54 C2010-905903-4

  Cover illustration by Dušan Petričić

  The illustrations are in black pencil and Photoshop.

  Design by Michael Solomon

  We acknowledge for their financial support of our publishing program the Canada Council for the Arts, the Ontario Arts Council, and the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund (CBF).

  To Ellis Lynn, who has inspired in so many

  children a love of the old tales.

  J.A.

  For my grandson Uroš, who just learned to walk.

  D.P.

  A Word About Ti-Jean

  As soon as you start going from one of these stories to another, you’ll realize Ti-Jean is a hero unlike most others. He turns up in different times and places. He gets married at the end of one tale. He’s on a quest for a bride at the beginning of the next. His mother is dead. No, she isn’t. It’s his father. He’s wise, he’s foolish. The only thing he isn’t ever is rich.

  So, you’ll be asking, who is he? The answer is he’s part of a long, long tradition (a lot like Jack in English fairy tales). He changes because we change and really he’s all about us — the difficulties we get into and the adventures we’re bound to have. Many, many people have created stories about him over the years. They’ve told those stories around fires and in logging camps, in countryside and in town. They’ve remembered those stories — perhaps not quite exactly, but what they have remembered, they’ve passed on.

  What does that say? I think it says that if you have an urge to tell a Ti-Jean story or make one up, you should do it, but you should also be careful to share that story with someone else.

  JAN ANDREWS

  Ti-Jean and the Princess

  of Tomboso

  Cric, crac,

  Parli, parlons, parlo.

  If you won’t listen,

  Out you go.

  L ÉTAIT UNE FOIS... Which is to say, There was once...

  There was once a farmer. That farmer had come to the New World from France in a ship with great white sails. He was just like everyone else who had chosen to journey here. He was searching for a better life.

  He lived on a narrow strip of land running down to a river. All of the farms in that part of the country were narrow strips. All of them ran down to rivers so everyone could have a proper share of water and an easier way of getting about.

  The work of the farm was hard. It did not exactly bring the farmer the riches he had hoped for, but he was content enough. He had three sons, and whenever they were worried about what the future might bring, he always said, “When I came from the Old Country I brought gifts that I have saved for you. When I die, you will have them. When you have the gifts, you’ll have nothing to worry about.”

  Time passed and the farmer grew old. He grew sick and took to his bed. He called his sons to him.

  “Go into the barn,” he told them. “Far at the back, deep under the hay, you’ll find a chest. That chest contains three objects, one for each of you. I’ll give you the key now, but if you care about me, you’ll wait until I am dead to use it.”

  The sons did wait. They nursed their father and tended to him. They made sure he had a fine funeral with all of the neighbors to pray for his soul.

  At last, however, the funeral was over.

  “I believe we can look in the chest now,” the oldest son announced.

  They went into the barn, all three of them together. They dug into the hay at the back. Sure enough, the chest was there as their father had told them it would be.

  The oldest brother put the key in the lock and turned it. The second lifted the lid. The third just watched and waited. His name was Ti-Jean. He wasn’t as quick off the mark as the other two. They didn’t think much of his chances in the world.

  Inside the chest were three objects, just as their father had said. One was a purse, one was a bugle, one was a belt. The objects were not quite the gifts the brothers had been expecting, but when the oldest brother saw his name on the purse, he picked it up.

  On the side of the purse was writing.

  Every time I open wide, a hundred gold coins are inside.

  The oldest brother opened the purse. He could hardly believe his eyes. There were the gold coins all ready to be counted. He opened the purse again. There were more coins.

  The brothers knew the money was going to be useful. It was going to be very useful indeed.

  The second brother saw his name on the bugle. That had writing on it, too.

  Blow one end, the troops appear. Blow the other, the field is clear.

  The second brother blew on the bugle. He blew on the narrow end, the mouthpiece.

  Outside the barn there was the sound of marching feet and officers shouting orders. The second brother went to the door to look.

  “I’ve never seen so many soldiers in my life,” he cried.

  His brothers were quite relieved when he blew on the wide end of the bugle and the soldiers disappeared.

  Now, of course, the brothers wanted to know about the belt.

  Ti-Jean saw his name on it. He picked it up. He looked at the back.

  “It says, Put me on and tell me where. In a minute you’ll be there,” he read.

  “Where are you going to go?” his brothers asked.

  “I want to see the Princess of Tomboso,” Ti-Jean replied.

  “She’s just in a story,” his brothers insisted.

  “She isn’t,” said Ti-Jean. “I want to go to the Princess of Tomboso.”

  With that, he was in the Princess of Tomboso’s room. She was sitting
on her throne eating an apple. She was very pretty and very surprised to see him.

  “Who are you? Why have you come here?” she asked.

  “My name is Ti-Jean. I’ve come for a visit.”

  The princess looked at him more carefully. She noticed he was not as richly dressed as everyone else who approached her.

  “My servants should never have let you enter the palace,” she exclaimed.

  “Your servants could not stop me,” Ti-Jean replied. “I came directly here to where you are.”

  “Such a thing is not possible.”

  “It is,” said Ti-Jean. “I have a magic belt.”

  “Show me,” she ordered.

  “With pleasure.”

  Ti-Jean showed her the belt. He demonstrated how it worked by having it carry him into a closet and out.

  The princess was very interested. She wanted to look more closely.

  “Might I touch it?” she asked.

  “I would be honored.”

  “Could I try on the belt, perhaps?”

  “You are most welcome,” Ti-Jean said.

  The princess put on the belt at once. Ti-Jean watched and waited.

  The princess ordered the belt to take her to her father’s throne room.

  The next thing Ti-Jean knew, he was facing the palace guards. They beat him until he was black and blue all over. They marched him through the palace door and left him in a ditch.

  Ti-Jean did not want to go home. He did not want to tell his brothers what had happened, but he did not know what else to do, so he set out.

  The way was long and perilous. By the time he arrived, his brothers were living much more comfortably, thanks to his oldest brother’s purse and the gold coins.

  His brothers welcomed him and teased him. They called him a dunderhead and life went on.

  Perhaps that would have been the end of it, but Ti-Jean wanted his belt back. He wanted it very much. As well, he kept remembering how pretty the Princess of Tomboso had looked.

  Perhaps she did not really mean to steal the belt from me. Perhaps it was really her father’s fault, he thought.

  He racked his brains and racked his brains until at last he came up with a plan. He went to his oldest brother.

  “I was wondering if I could borrow the purse from you,” he said.

  “The purse? Why would I lend you the purse?”

  “Because it’s the only way I can get my belt back. If I have the purse, I can buy the belt.”

  The oldest brother was very doubtful, but Ti-Jean begged and pleaded.

  “You must promise you won’t let the princess hold the purse,” his brother said finally.

  “I promise,” Ti-Jean answered.

  “You must promise you won’t even let her touch it.”

  “I promise! I promise!”

  The oldest brother was still reluctant, but he agreed.

  Ti-Jean set out. He had the purse so he did not have to walk much. Mostly he could afford to ride. He was better dressed than he had been but he still looked like a farmer. He could pay the princess’s servants to let him into the palace, though.

  This time he came into her room through the door. Once more she was sitting on her throne. Once more she was eating an apple. She was still wearing the belt.

  The princess was not pleased to see him. She was not pleased at all.

  “I don’t want you in my room,” she told him.

  “I would go in an instant, if you would give me back my belt,” Ti-Jean said.

  “It’s mine. I’m not giving it to anyone,” the princess answered.

  “Then perhaps I could buy it.”

  “You wouldn’t have enough money.”

  “I could fill this room with gold coins again and again.”

  “How could you possibly do that?”

  All this while, Ti-Jean had kept the purse in his pocket. Now he took it out. He told the princess how it worked. He produced one hundred gold coins and then another hundred.

  The princess looked at him and smiled.

  “I would like so much to touch this wonderful purse,” she said.

  “I don’t think you can,” said Ti-Jean. “I don’t think my brother would like it.”

  The princess smiled some more. Ti-Jean had never seen anyone so lovely. He forgot his promise. He forgot everything. He let her touch the purse.

  “Could I hold it?” she asked him.

  He let her.

  “Could I try it for myself?” she demanded.

  Ti-Jean was a little unsure, but only a little.

  “Of course you may try it, but then you must give it back,” he said.

  “What else would I do?” the princess cried.

  She tried the purse once. She tried it twice. Ti-Jean watched and waited.

  “I want to go to my father’s throne room now,” the princess told the belt.

  She took the purse with her. Of course she did.

  Ti-Jean found himself facing the palace guards again. This time they didn’t just beat him and march him through the door. They threw him out the window. He was so sore that for three days and three nights he could hardly move.

  How could he go back to his brothers? How could he admit that the purse was gone? His family was going to be poor again.

  Strangely enough, he already had another plan.

  “If I just had the bugle,” he told his second brother.

  “The bugle! Why would I give you the bugle so you can lose that, too?”

  “Because with the bugle I will have an army. I can make the princess do whatever I want. I can get the purse. I can get the belt. We will have everything back again.”

  His brothers did not like the idea, but they could see no other way.

  “You must promise you won’t let the princess hold the bugle,” his second brother said finally.

  “I promise,” Ti-Jean answered.

  “You won’t even let her touch it. You won’t go near where she can reach it.”

  “I promise! I promise! I’m going to stand outside the palace gates. I’m going to wait for her.”

  At last, the second brother agreed.

  Ti-Jean went back to Tomboso. He stood outside the palace gates. He waited until the Princess of Tomboso came riding forth. She still looked very pretty. She was eating another apple.

  Ti-Jean blew on the bugle. The army appeared at once. Ti-Jean commanded the soldiers to point their guns toward the palace walls.

  The princess was very frightened, especially when she saw Ti-Jean.

  “What is the cause of this?” she demanded.

  “I am the cause,” Ti-Jean said. “I have come for my purse and my belt and if I do not get them I will order my troops to fire.”

  “But how could you have an army?” the princess asked.

  Ti-Jean was more than happy to explain. He demonstrated how he could send his soldiers away and summon them back to him.

  “The instructions are written on the bugle. Blow one end, the troops appear, blow the other, the field is clear,” he said.

  The princess rode a little closer.

  “Show me once more,” she begged.

  Ti-Jean showed her. The princess came closer still.

  “I know that I am in your power,” she cried out.

  “You are!” said Ti-Jean.

  He went to stand beside her. She snatched the bugle from his grasp.

  “I believe I must blow on the wide end first,” she said.

  She sent his troops away.

  Ti-Jean had nothing. The princess summoned another army — an army of her own. She ordered the soldiers to march over Ti-Jean until he was flattened. He lay where they left him. He lay unmoving. He lay
for seven nights and seven days.

  This time he knew he could not go home to his brothers. He crawled away on hands and knees. He crept under hedges and through ditches. He dragged himself through marshes until at last he came to an orchard.

  Beneath the trees, apples lay on the ground. By then, Ti-Jean was very hungry.

  I’ll eat an apple before I die, he thought.

  The apples were good so he ate several.

  All of a sudden his head seemed so heavy he could hardly hold it up. Something was pulling at it. It kept falling forward.

  He ate another apple. The pulling grew stronger. That was because his nose was longer than it had been. His nose was very long indeed.

  Death is the only answer to my woes, he decided.

  Once more he lay on the ground. He lay there for quite a while.

  By then he noticed there were plum trees growing a little farther off.

  Why not a plum before I die, he thought.

  The plums were good, too. As he ate them, he realized his head was getting lighter.

  He reached up. His nose was shorter. He kept eating plums until his nose was back to its normal size.

  He was going to go on his way, but it occurred to him that he had met someone who seemed to be quite fond of apples. He gathered up some apples to put in one pocket. He gathered up some plums to put in another.

  He headed back to the Princess of Tomboso’s palace. He did not go to the front door. He went to the servants’ entrance. He told the cook that these were special apples and that she should send them up to the princess immediately. She should tell the princess the apples must be eaten quickly or they would lose their flavor.

  The cook put the apples in a fancy basket. She sent them to the princess’s room.

  The princess was pleased. She started eating the apples at once. She ate far more than Ti-Jean had eaten. Her nose grew so long that it touched the ground, even when she was standing up.

  The king was distraught. He summoned the royal doctors. None of them could find a cure. Doctors came from all the surrounding lands. No one had seen an illness like it. No one could help the princess.