Michael Larrabeiti - The Golden Goat

Pacorro took the goat's lovely head in his arms. "Princess," he said, "leave this horrible place. Better to be a shepherdess in the sun than live a thousand years alone. Come away and you will sleep under me stars and listen to the sheep bells at dawn."

The goat shook her head. "How could I leave my father's treasure? The Caliph might return tomorrow."

"Princess," said Pacorro, "your father will never return. He and his sorcerer are dead."

The goat wandered a step from Pacorro and gazed steadily over all her possessions. "I know," she said, "but the Caliph was not the man to let death defeat him. Besides, how could I leave? I am used to the feel of silk, the sight of gold and the glint of rubies. If I went with you I would become a woman again but I would lose the power of opening the cave. I could never live as you live—poor, dirty, a barefoot shepherd."

Pacorro was angered. "Living as we live is better man living as you live," he cried.

"And dying as you die," said the goat softly, "and how is that?"

"Dying a shepherd is better than living a goat," sobbed Pacorro and the tears ran down his face.

The goat came close to Pacorro and put her soft mouth into the place where his neck met his shoulder. "Your tears are kind." she said, "and you are right, I will come with you but you must help. It will not be easy for me."

"Yes," said Pacorro and he brushed away his tears with the back of his hand. He put an arm round the goat's neck and he half-led, half-dragged her, to the doorway of the cavern and the goat spoke the word and the rock wall opened and Pacorro saw the pale starlight outside. The goat trembled and the shepherd boy held her tightly but, as they were about to cross the threshold, Pacorro thought of all the wealth he was leaving behind and he thought once more of his father and how one pearl only would shelter him from the cold nights of his advancing age. So Pacorro, hoping that the goat would not see him, squeezed the toes of his right foot around a small ruby that lay in his path, meaning to hobble with it into the outside air.

But the goat knew at once what he had done, feeling it in his touch, and she reared from his embrace. "Oh, do not take that ruby," she cried, "my father would search for it in the very moment of his return."

Pacorro allowed the ruby to drop to the floor and went towards the goat, his arms outstretched but the goat retreated, back into the cavern,

"I cannot go," she said, "I cannot betray my father."

"It is not your father that keeps you here," said Pacorro, "it is the treasure," and he leapt forward, seized the goat by the head and by the horns and he dragged her, stiff-legged, through the doorway.

Suddenly Pacorro fell backwards and rolled into a thicket of briar and bramble; he pulled himself free with bloody hands. The goat had disappeared from his grasp and there in its place stood the slender form of the Princess Suhar, regal and beautiful. Her long dark hair was black and where it was darkest it was blue, like the midnight sky, but her face was sombre and sad with centuries of waiting.

The gown she wore was the colour of sapphires and it was patterned over with the finest diamonds from the Caliph's store, each diamond purer than the last and carrying in its heart a flickering candle flame. Across the princess's forehead glittered the Caliph's coronet of gold with the seven points.

The princess looked about her. She raised her hands and looked closely at them, moving her fingers. She stared at her feet, she touched her face, her arms, her hair, and then she screamed.

"No," she cried, a dreadful moaning in her voice. "How strange I feel, how horrible this shape, this cannot be beautiful. How long would I live in this body? I would grow old like you, die like you, unable to run, forever, sure-footed across the hills." And with these words she stepped back over the threshold of the cave and as the Princess Suhar disappeared the Golden Goat wheeled on its four fine feet in the doorway and spoke the word and the rock door of the cavern began to rumble and roll forward.

Pacorro, his blood still wet on his hands, leapt into the entrance and grabbed the goat's horns and fought with her. But the goat was decided now and she lowered her head and shook it hard and the shepherd boy was flung from the cave and his breath was knocked from him. The door rolled on and shut fast.

In a little while Pacorro recovered and crawled to the door and stood before it. He felt carefully with his hands but no opening could he find. It was dark again. The golden splendour had vanished with the goat and her treasure, only cold dawn light shone above the cleft now and that too weak to reach the ground.

Pacorro began to grope his way along the gully, his eyes uncertain after the sights they had seen. He felt before him and in those first doubtful steps his foot struck something which rang out with an ancient sound as it moved against a stone.

Pacorro knelt and his wounded hands searched in the dust until he touched the thing. He could not see what it was and so he raised it above his head and held it against the stars. It was round and smooth with seven points, it was the golden coronet, fallen from the goat's head during her last struggle with the shepherd boy. Pacorro smiled to himself in the darkness; the dream of his father would come true after all; as much pasture as he wanted now.

As the boy smiled there came a terrible sobbing from the depths of the hillside; the great door began to open and there came the sound of that voice which no man could resist.

"And what will the Caliph say?" it called. "What will the Caliph say when he finds his crown stolen by a shepherd? Return it to me and you may choose what else you will from this treasure . . ."

The great door of rock opened completely now and Pacorro saw the Golden Goat again, shining brighter than the brightness of the treasure behind her. And as the light grew stronger the goat stepped across the threshold once more and took the form of the Princess Suhar, holding out her arms and speaking in tones of great sadness.

"Will you leave me here like this for ever, without my father's crown? Return it to me, shepherd boy, and I will teach you the secret word that opens this cave and you and your father will be as rich as Abd-al-Rhaman once was."

Still clasping the coronet Pacorro raised his hands to his head and tried to close his ears but the voice of the princess was like the voice of reason itself and the light from the cavern burned into his eyes and blinded him and he moved towards the door and felt soft lips whispering to him of wealth and power beyond belief and gentle hands led him back into the cavern to choose what he would and slowly the great rock door closed behind him.

And three days later Pacorro’s father found his son lying on his back in a gully whose rocky walk almost touched overhead, a gully made impenetrable by growths of sturdy thorn, strong and matted. The old shepherd cut his way to his son's side and knelt beside him but Pacorro did not recognise his father and the man wept. The boy's mind had gone. He said nothing and stared at the sky out of unseeing golden eyes.

The End