The Trial of Jack Spriggins

A cough escaped the goblin’s lips as he rose, both hands pressing against the table before him. He was average by goblin standards, standing no more than three feet tall. His gray skin was mottled with yellowed and ruddy undertones, lending it a sickly cast. He wore a ragged, ill-fitting two-piece suit in dark, earth-toned colors, the fabric frayed at the cuffs and seams. His fingers curled slightly against the wood, each nail ending in a faint but deliberate point.

“Your Grace.” the goblin said, his voice a guttural baritone as his gaze lifted to the fairy seated behind the bench. Behind the bench sat Queen Elphame. The goblin smiled then, slow and measured, razor-edged teeth showing just enough to be noticed.

The Queen appeared ageless, her beauty restrained and severe rather than radiant. Her skin was pale, almost stone-bright in low light, unmarred by ornament or warmth. Dark ash-toned hair falls straight and unadorned, framing a face carved with calm precision. Her eyes are deep and colorless at first glance, until one lingers long enough to feel them assessing weight, intent, and truth with pitiless clarity. She wears robes of muted greens and frost-gray hues, woven from materials that seem grown rather than stitched

“We are here today because the defendant not only stole from Blunderbore but murdered the poor giant when he attempted to confront the thief.”

He gestured toward the defendant’s table, where Jack Spriggins sat beside his mother. She sat with arms crossed, her expression unreadable. Jack, once the penniless son of a widow, now wore the smirk of a man untouched by consequence. Gone was the ragged poor boy; in his place sat a young man dressed in the finest three-piece suit money could buy—tailored for a lord, not an impoverished boy. He lounged in his seat, posture relaxed, eyes drifting downward to admire his perfectly filed nails, as if the goblin’s words were hardly worth his attention.

“We all know the story,” the goblin continued. “Jack Spriggins, the poor boy who foolishly traded his family’s last cow for a handful of beans. Beans, which, according to his account, turned out to be magical.”

A soft, dismissive cough followed. “He claims the wealth that followed was simply found. Abandoned, no less, in a castle in the sky.”

The goblin’s eyes slid back to Jack. “A story convenient in its simplicity. Convenient too, in that the only supposed witness, Blunderbore, is dead. Killed, we are told, in a tragic fall when the beanstalk collapsed.”

He stepped away from the table, moving to the center of the court. His gaze lifted once more to the bench.

“However, there was a witness to these crimes.”

Jack’s head snapped up, confusion flashing across his face as he looked to his mother. The realization came too late. He had no counsel. His mother met his gaze with a look of open scorn.

“Blunderbore was not alone,” the goblin said. “His wife, Rose, witnessed both the second and third thefts. She also witnessed her husband’s murder. She has since identified every stolen item now in the defendant’s possession.”

The goblin inclined his head slightly.

“As such, the prosecution calls Rose to the stand.”

A giantess appeared on the witness stand as if conjured from thin air. She wore a long blue dress that draped over her towering frame. Her blond hair fell in a smooth curtain to the middle of her back, and her green eyes narrowed the moment they settled on Jack.

“Rose, could you please tell the court your side of the story?” the goblin asked.

She nodded once. “My husband and I were simple farmers in the Cloud Lands. We owned little and worked hard to provide food for the others who lived there.” Her hands folded together, knuckles tight. “Then one day, the tip of a beanstalk broke through the clouds. It rose several feet higher than my husband. None of us had ever seen such a thing.”

Her gaze lingered on Jack, and her voice faltered. The goblin cleared his throat, gently but firmly, and she drew a breath.

“We knew of the lands far below,” she continued. “We always had. But never once had there been a way between our worlds. I thought the beanstalk strange, but harmless, and thought little of it.”

Her jaw tightened. “At least, that was until my husband came home and said he smelled the blood of an Englishman on our land.”

A murmur rippled through the court.

“I did not understand what he meant at the time,” she said. “But after that night, some of our gold was gone. Vanished.” Her eyes flicked back to Jack. “Then he returned.”

Her voice hardened. “I was in the barn when the little Englishman came again. I saw him take our goose. The golden one. I watched him carry it away like it belonged to him.” Her hands clenched. “When I ran to fetch my husband, the thief was already gone.”

“The final time,” she said quietly, “my husband and I were listening to our harp while I prepared lunch. Then the music stopped.”

Her throat tightened. “I ran to find my husband and saw him chasing the Englishman toward the beanstalk, a knife in his hand. The thief was already climbing down. My husband followed before I could stop him.” She swallowed hard. “Then the beanstalk began to fall. I heard the crash below.”

Her composure finally broke. She wept openly, tears striking the courtroom floor like heavy raindrops.

“The Court Guards came the next day,” she continued through her sobs. “They told me they had found my husband’s body. He had been crushed beneath the fallen beanstalk.”

Silence filled the room.

After several long moments, the goblin spoke. “Can you identify the Englishman you saw?”

She lifted her hand and pointed without hesitation.

“That one,” she said, her finger steady as it settled on Jack.

Jack scoffed and pushed himself to his feet, his voice rising as he spoke. “Your Grace, I have never seen this woman in my life. And besides, it is well known how I came by what I own. She may lay claim all she wishes, but the fact of the matter is that her testimony is inadmissible.”

A low chuckle escaped the goblin. He lifted one hand, and a folded document appeared between his fingers. “While that would be convenient,” he said mildly, “I submit into the record the open investigation report filed by the Court Guards.”

He turned slightly, angling the paper toward the bench. “The report details each theft by date and item, all recorded well before any rumors of Jack’s newfound wealth spread through the lands.”

Jack stared at the goblin, his jaw slack. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. No words followed.

Beside him, his mother released a long, exasperated sigh. She pressed her palm to her face and slowly shook her head.

The goblin set the document down on the bench, then lifted his hand again. A second parchment appeared.

“I also present documented evidence that the Inspector assigned to the fallen beanstalk concluded it was deliberately cut, rather than collapsing under its own weight.”

Jack sank back into his seat, eyes fixed on Queen Elphame.

Queen Elphame reviewed the documents in silence before returning them to the goblin.

“I have heard enough,” Queen Elphame said at last, her gaze settling on Jack. “As the sovereign ruler of these lands, I have reached my conclusion.”

She steepled her fingers. “I find Jack Spriggins guilty of murder and theft. Jack must return the stolen items. All possessions gained after the thefts are hereby remanded to Rose.” Her eyes did not leave Jack. “As for your fate, it shall be determined by ....”

The judge gave a deliberate pause.

“Rose.”

Jack gulped. His mother rose and struck him upside the head, muttering, “You lazy, lazy boy.”

Rose smiled. Her sharp teeth caught the light.

“I have always wondered,” she said, “what the blood of an Englishman tastes like.”