The White Horse of Zennor. Michael Morpurgo
Also by Michael Morpurgo
Arthur: High King of Britain
Escape from Shangri-La
Friend or Foe
From Hereabout Hill
The Ghost of Grania O’Malley
Kensuke’s Kingdom
King of the Cloud Forests
Little Foxes
Long Way Home
Mr Nobody’s Eyes
My Friend Walter
The Nine Lives of Montezuma
The Sandman and the Turtles
The Sleeping Sword
Twist of Gold
Waiting for Anya
War Horse
The War of Jenkins’ Ear
Why the Whales Came
For younger readers
Animal Tales
Conker
Mairi’s Mermaid
The Marble Crusher
On Angel Wings
The Best Christmas Present in the World
MICHAEL MORPURGO
First published in Great Britain in 1982
by Kaye & Ward Ltd
This edition published 2011
by Egmont UK Limited
239 Kensington High Street, London W8 6SA
Text copyright © 1982 Michael Morpurgo
Cover photography © Shutterstock
The moral rights of the author have been asserted
ISBN 978 1 4052 5675 9
eBook ISBN 978 1 7803 1062 6
1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2
www.egmont.co.uk www.michaelmorpurgo.org
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library
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INTRODUCTION
ONE OF THE LAST PLACES YOU COME TO before Cornwall disappears into the Atlantic Ocean is the tiny churchtown of Zennor. Since the beginning of time, strange and mysterious things have happened here. There are stories from the past of mermaids and spriggans and knockers and witches. The stories in this book however do not come from the past. They have all happened in my lifetime.
The ‘Eagle’s Nest’ of the title is the great outcrop of rock that dominates the fields and farmsteads below. From here you can see the coastline all the way from St Ives to Pendeen Lighthouse. You can see the churchtown of Zennor itself below the high moor, and you can feel that here anything is possible, perhaps even probable.
Before you begin ‘The Giant’s Necklace’ I would ask you to read the stories in the order in which you find them. You will understand why when you have finished the book.
M. M. Zennor 1982
CONTENTS
THE GIANT’S NECKLACE
So, a mining story to start with. For many years I used to go every summer to Zennor. I read Cornish legends, researched the often tragic history of tin mining in Penrith, wandered the wild moors above Zennor Churchtown. I wrote a book of five short stories called The White Horse of Zennor. This is the first.
The necklace stretched from one end of the kitchen table to the other, around the sugar bowl at the far end and back again, stopping only a few inches short of the toaster. The discovery on the beach of a length of abandoned fishing line draped with seaweed had first suggested the idea to Cherry; and every day of the holiday since then had been spent in one single-minded pursuit, the creation of a necklace of glistening pink cowrie shells. She had sworn to herself and to everyone else that the necklace would not be complete until it reached the toaster; and when Cherry vowed she would do something, she invariably did it.
Cherry was the youngest in a family of older brothers, four of them, who had teased her relentlessly since the day she was born, eleven years before. She referred to them as ‘the four mistakes’, for it was a family joke that each son had been an attempt to produce a daughter. To their huge delight Cherry reacted passionately to any slight or insult whether intended or not. Their particular targets were her size, which was diminutive compared with theirs, and her dark flashing eyes that could wither with one scornful look, her ‘zapping’ look, they called it. Although the teasing was interminable it was rarely hurtful, nor was it intended to be, for her brothers adored her; and she knew it.
Cherry was poring over her necklace, still in her dressing gown. Breakfast had just been cleared away and she was alone with her mother. She fingered the shells lightly, turning them gently until the entire necklace lay flat with the rounded pink of the shells all uppermost. Then she bent down and breathed on each of