The Merchant

Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, there was a vast and grand city that prized itself for riches and wealth. Large ships that came from all over the world, filled to the brim with treasures, would arrive at the city's docks every day. On every street corner there would be peddlers and sellers of anything you could think of, fine clothes, shining jewels, magical items and even exotic animals that no one had ever seen before. In the centre of the city lay the biggest market in the kingdom, where thousands of traders would sell their wares, hoping to become rich enough to have their very own trading house.

The largest and oldest trading house, House Flint, had built a shop in the middle of the market with doors that opened on every side and stood twenty floors tall. For one hundred years, the shop had been passed down from grandfather to father to son until one day it was finally time for the oldest son, Oliver, to take their turn as head of the house.

Oliver had always dreamed of being the most successful trader in all the land. He was tall and strong and handsome and all the girls in the city would giggle and blush when he went by. On the day of his eighteenth birthday, Oliver’s father came to him.

“Oliver, today is the day you prove yourself worthy of taking on the family business”

Oliver was surprised.

“But father, I am already worthy! I am the son of the largest trading house in the kingdom!”

Oliver’s father shook his head.

“You must leave the city and make your fortune. Take everything I have taught you and come back a successful trader. Only then will you have proved yourself worthy enough”

Oliver was not pleased with this idea, it was his birthright after all, why should he have to prove himself?

“But father, I work in the shop every day! I am strong and carry boxes up and down twenty floors. I am handsome, I only have to smile, and all the customers swoon and empty their coin pouches. Is that not proof enough?

Oliver’s father brought out a small pouch of coins and put them on the table, along with a walking stick and a small backpack.

“Strength and beauty are not enough to make it in this world. You must be cunning, witty and smart. Hear my words my son, you must be able to take any situation and turn it to your advantage. To be the best trader in the land, you must be clever! Take this pouch of coins, this walking stick and backpack and make your fortune!”

Oliver thought this was a waste of time and did nothing but stand in the way of his dreams of leading the most famous trading house.

“Very well Father, I will complete this quest with ease! I will return in one year as the wealthiest merchant you have ever met!”

And with that, Oliver set off on his quest that very day. He took all that his father had given him: the coin pouch, the walking stick and the backpack but had left the most important thing far behind him, his father's words.

Oliver left the grand city and made his way through the winding woods. The overgrown paths tried to snare his feet, and the long branches of trees swiped at his head. It was quiet in the woods compared to the hubbub of the city and without the long straight roads and street names of the city, Oliver soon realised that he was lost. As he started wondering whether he would be lost in the woods forever, a traveller appeared. They wore a long black cloak with a heavy hood that covered their face. Their long, tangled grey hair fell out of the hood and the staff they carried made a heavy thunk with each step.

“Hey there, traveller!” Oliver said with relief.

“Well met, young man, well met!” The voice of the stranger was gravelly yet soft, like that of an old woman and sure enough. she pulled back her hood to reveal a wise, wrinkled face.

“I’m glad I came across you, crone, it seems I am lost in these woods! I wonder if you could tell me the way out?”

The old woman paused, seeing Oliver’s walking stick, backpack and small pouch that dangled from his belt.

“Of course, there is a small village not far from here. But first, tell me of how you came to be lost, what brings you to these woods?”

“I am on a journey,” Oliver said bitterly. “To prove to my father what I already am, the greatest trader in the kingdom!”

The old woman chuckled and said “Is that so? Well, it just so happens that I have something to trade. Allow me to be your first customer!”

“What do you have to trade?”

The old woman rummaged around in her pack and brought out a pouch and emptied it into her palm. Six green beans sat in her hand, and she held them up for Oliver to see.

“These are magical beans. They will make quick work of your journey. The magic in these beans have the power to transform you into a wealthy man! Assuming you know how to use them correctly, of course”

Oliver quickly took a single bean and looked at it closely. With his experience of working in his father’s shop, he could tell that these beans were truly magical as the old woman said. Oliver thought how tremendous it would be to return to his father earlier than expected, and wealthier than anyone would have thought possible.

“You tell the truth, crone, I'd be happy to trade. What’s your price?” Oliver thought of the small sum in his pouch and was convinced it would not be enough for such a prize.

“I’ll take everything in that coin purse, whatever the sum, that would surely be enough.” The old woman put the beans back in her pouch and tied it tight. “A pouch for a pouch, that seems fair”

Oliver tried not to let his excitement show. What a steal!

“Deal!” He exclaimed. “A fair trade indeed!” And with that, Oliver and the old woman traded pouches. He felt the beans through the fabric and started dreaming of his fortune.

“The way out is an hour along this path. You will come to a small village that I'm sure will put you up for the night.” The old woman pointed back the way she had come.

Oliver thanked the old woman and set off with long strides, eager to get to the village. He held the pouch of beans in his hands and imagined all sorts of fantastical things.

The old woman called out to him, “Wait, young man, are you sure you know how to use the beans? You must plant one in the ground at sunset and wait until sunrise!”

“Yes, yes!” called Oliver. “Plant them in the ground, sunset and sunrise!”

“But that is not all! You must use your cunning, wits and smarts from whatever the beans grow to make your fortune! Hear my words, young man, you must be clever!”

But Oliver was too busy thinking of his future to listen. He thought of how wonderful it would be to return to the grand city a man, with a backpack full of gold, and sure to meet his father’s approval.

True to the old woman’s word, Oliver reached the village. Before asking around for a bed for the night, he went to the centre of town and waited until sunset to plant one of the magic beans. He barely slept a wink that night, eager to see what morning would bring. He woke up just before sunrise to wait for the moment when the bean would grow.

As the sun rose and touched the spot where Oliver had planted the bean, a trickle of water began to spring from the ground. Oliver sat and waited for something more to happen. Over the course of the morning, the steady trickle turned into a stream that rose into the air. Oliver stood up and cursed the old woman who had sold him the beans.

“What am I supposed to do with water?” he cried “This won’t help me at all!”

The stream turned into a jet of water that shot up to the clouds and began flooding the centre of the little village.

“What have you done?” shouted one of the villagers.

“You’re destroying our town!” another yelled.

“It’s not my fault!” Oliver told the people. “I thought it would help me, not just spout water everywhere! It's useless!”

The villagers all started shouting at Oliver and shaking their fists. He tried to protest, but the villagers surrounded him, pushing and pulling him this way and that. In all the shouting and pushing and pulling, Oliver found himself thrown out of the village and his walking stick was nowhere to be seen. He dusted himself off, cursing his luck and set off once more, finding a road leading away from the village.

After travelling for some time, Oliver came upon a small town. Determined to try again, he waited till sunset and planted a bean near the edge of town, this time camping right next to it and sleeping under the stars. When he awoke, he found himself under the shade of a grand tree. Giant fruits of all kinds of shapes and colours dangled from every branch. Oliver plucked one and bit into it. It was fresh and juicy and the best thing he had ever tasted. He spent the morning plucking every last one and made his way into town to sell the fruits.

The townspeople were amazed at the exotic fruits and soon Oliver had sold out and filled his backpack with gold. Happy that his luck had changed for the better, Oliver made his way back to the tree, hoping that more of the exotic fruits had grown. To his dismay, he found that the tree had withered. Its branches drooped and the bark had turned an ashy grey,

“Blech! That tastes horrible!”

“It’s turned black!”

“Why does it smell so awful?”

Oliver could hear voices shouting from the town and soon a hoard of townspeople could be seen headed towards the merchant. They held their spoiled fruits out and demanded their money back.

“It’s nothing to do with me!” Oliver cried. “Someone must have poisoned the tree!”

But the townspeople were not satisfied. They surrounded Oliver and wrestled his backpack off, each person taking the money back that they had spent on the fruits. He tried to fight them off, but once again found himself thrown onto the road outside of town.

With no money, no walking stick and no backpack, Oliver sadly started trudging along the road.

“Why have I been cursed?” Oliver said to himself. “I am the greatest trader in all the land, and I will not let these accursed beans defeat me!”

Oliver gathered his strength and made his way to the next town, sure that this time, he would succeed. As soon as the sun started to set, he planted the third bean a mile or so away from the town's gates and fell asleep under a copse of trees. When he awoke this time, a dark figure appeared wearing a long cloak and holding a thick staff. It was the old woman who sold him the beans! He leapt up and shook the remaining 3 beans at her.

“You sold me cursed beans! Since I got them, I have had nothing but bad luck! I could never make my fortune with these!”

The old woman shook her head at Oliver.

“You were given everything you needed young man. With those three beans, you could have been richer than kings!”

“How?” Oliver exclaimed. “The first bean sprouted nothing but water. The second bean grew a withered tree and spoiled fruit. What was I supposed to do?”

“The villagers turned the water into a fountain that supplies everyone with clean, fresh water.” The old woman replied. “The townspeople watered and nourished the tree back to health where it sprouted new fruit. They took the fruit sparingly and the tree stayed healthy.”

Oliver thought about what the old woman said. Could these things be true? Were the beans not cursed? Was he the reason everything had failed? The old woman pointed to the pouch of beans that Oliver had shook at her.

“If you give me the beans that are left, I have the power to grant you anything you desire. I can bestow you with riches and you can go back to your father a wealthy man. All you have to do is trade me the beans back.”

The old woman clicked her fingers and a chest full of gold appeared, along with the walking stick, his backpack and the small pouch of gold his father had given him at the start of his journey.

“It would be as if none of this had ever happened. You can acquire everything you desire and take your rightful place as the greatest trader in all the land.”

Oliver stood and thought for a while. In front of him was everything he ever wanted, so why wasn’t he snapping it up? He thought of the walking stick his father had gifted him and how he lost it at the village. He thought of his backpack and how it was taken from him by the townspeople. He thought of how the people had turned what the beans had grown into their advantage, and how he had failed. Oliver made up his mind and held the pouch of beans in his palm.

“I will not take your trade, crone. I will go to the market and do what a merchant should do, trade.”

The old woman smiled and with another click of her fingers, the gold and all of Oliver’s possessions vanished.

“Very well, young man, I hope the remaining beans bring you the fortune you seek.”

And with that, the old woman clicked her fingers for the final time and disappeared. Oliver took a deep breath and walked the mile to the town's market with only three beans left. He tried all the tricks of his trade to sell the beans with no luck until he came upon a young boy leading an old cow with milky white eyes.

“You there boy, you strike me as a clever lad. I have an opportunity of a lifetime for you, if you wish to trade?” Oliver switched on as much charm as he could muster and shook out the three beans. The young boy’s curiosity got the better of him and he wandered closer to peer at the beans.

“They’re just beans!” the boy said.

“These are no normal beans, lad, these are magical beans. They can grant you anything you desire.”

“Anything I desire? But how? What’s the catch?”

“I knew you were a smart lad!” Oliver chuckled, “These beans are powerful magic indeed, but hear my words lad, you must use your cunning, wit and smarts to achieve your fortune; otherwise, they will be useless”

The boy had been at the market without much luck. No one wanted to buy old milky, and he didn’t want to return to Mother empty-handed. He set his jaw and nodded at the merchant.

“Deal!” The boy said.

“Deal!” said Oliver. The boy handed over Milky’s lead and Oliver handed the pouch to the boy. They went their separate ways, the boy running home to mother and Oliver strolling deeper into the market. Oliver whistled, happy to be back to his roots, relying on his cunning, wit and smarts, to trade his way up to be the greatest merchant in all the land.