Twelve Turtles and Seven Doors

Stories for Another Day

There was a turtle-master named Gregory who had twelve turtles. He took good care of them, and even trained them to walk in a straight line behind him, in order from largest to smallest. After a lot of practice, they could also make a neat circle with Gregory in the middle. The youngest, Pipi, had a very nice singing voice, and sometimes the others would sing along with him, in a kind of wobbly chorus.

They spent most of their days grazing in grassy fields, or else walking in a straight line behind Gregory on their way to new fields. One day, when they were walking happily down the road on their way to a new grassy field, Gregory happened to glance over his shoulder, and he noticed that Pipi was missing. He looked around everywhere but little Pipi had disappeared.

He quickly found a safe grassy patch for the other turtles, and instructed the biggest turtle, Jojo, not to let them stray. Then he set out to look for the one that was lost.

He searched high and low, but mostly low since Pipi was a turtle after all, and quite a small one. Who knows if he would ever have found him if he hadn’t heard a far-off voice singing in a frightened, quavery way.

He followed the sound to a clearing, and as soon as he got there, Gregory knew it wasn’t going to be a simple matter of putting Pipi in his pocket and carrying him back to the others. For the clearing was bounded by seven doors, and in the centre of them sat a beautiful woman, holding Pipi in her lap.

She had long, fair hair, long enough for her to sit on, and she was wearing a clinging green dress under a green silken cloak. “Welcome!” she said, with a smile that turned up the corners of her mouth like a cricket’s legs. “I am Liana, lady of this place.”

Gregory bowed nicely, and asked for his turtle back.

Liana smiled so that the corners of her mouth deepened even more sharply. “Turtle or no turtle, ” she said, “you cannot leave here except through one of those doors. All but one lead to certain death, and even that one, if you should be clever enough to choose the right door, is a perilous passageway fraught with danger. Only the most courageous attempt it, for they risk death by a thousand cuts.”

Gregory said, “I beg your pardon, my lady, but I prefer to leave by the way I came in.”

The lady’s mouth shut like a trap. “That is no longer an option, either for you or your shelly friends. Look behind you,” she said.

Gregory looked behind him. He saw with dismay that not only had the way into the clearing disappeared, but that Jojo and the other ten turtles, in a nice straight line, had followed him in.

He took a deep breath. There was nothing he could do but try and find the right door to go through. He looked at the seven high wooden doors that surrounded him. “Is what you said true?” he asked.

Liana stood up, tipping Pipi off her lap, and stalked up to Gregory. “No,” she said. “In actual fact, you are almost sure to die, no matter which door you choose.”

“And the thousand cuts?” Gregory asked.

“That part is true,” she said airily, “but a man may survive even a thousand cuts. Or he may die of one.”

“Which door is the safest?” Gregory asked.

“Do you think I’m going to tell you?” she laughed. “But you have twelve turtles and there are only seven doors. If seven of them try one door each, you will still have six turtles left, if all goes well. And you will know which doors not to choose.”

“That is not an option,” Gregory said firmly. It was unthinkable that he would send even one of the turtles into certain death, not even Dodo who was very old and almost blind and whose shell was so thick she could probably survive even ten thousand cuts. He gathered the turtles around him in a neat circle and said some encouraging things, and told them to keep away from the doors at all cost.

Liana smiled her crooked smile at him. “Did I mention,” she said, “that within an hour my seven brothers will arrive with their seven flashing swords, and make mincemeat of anyone they find here? And they are particularly fond of turtle soup.”

The turtles all gave horrified little squeaks at that.

“Is that true?” Gregory demanded.

“It may be,” Liana purred. She curled her hair around her fingers, smiling, and waited to see what Gregory would do.

At that moment, the sun, which had been hidden among the clouds until now, suddenly shone its beams into the clearing, and Jojo, who was really quite smart for a turtle, nudged Gregory two steps forward. Suddenly Gregory could see the sun shining on the doors, and he realised that six of them were not doors at all, but mirrors.

“Why, there is only one door!” he exclaimed.

Liana’s smile dissolved. “One is enough!” she said. “Remember the thousand cuts.”

“A man may survive even a thousand cuts,” Gregory said bravely. He strode forward to the door, and turned the handle.

The door shattered into a thousand pieces, each as sharp as glass. Most of them fell harmlessly to the ground, but a dozen of them struck Gregory on the face and the body, and one long, sharp piece stabbed him deep in the heart. He fell to the ground, bleeding.

The turtles rushed to his side, as quickly as turtles can rush. Each of them gripped a piece of the door in their mouth and plucked it out of Gregory’s body. Jojo grasped the largest splinter, which had struck Gregory’s heart, and pulled with all his might, until it came out. It was so large and sharp that it cut both corners of his mouth, which is why turtles even today have broad mouths and a pointed top lip.

Liana took a small pot of ointment out of her dress and spread some on Gregory’s wounds, and some on Jojo’s mouth, and bandaged them up with strips of her petticoat.

“Aren’t your brothers coming?” Gregory gasped. Liana was pulling some of the bandages very tight.

“Not today,” she said coolly. “It seems you won’t die after all.”

Gregory felt his chest, where the splinter of wood had stabbed his heart. “Not even of this?” he said.

Liana said, “These wounds of love never heal completely, but once you are saved by love, you don’t need to be afraid of dying.” She wrapped the splinter that had pierced his heart in her silk handkerchief and put it away carefully in her pocket. “Now, go,” she said, “and take your reptilian friends with you.”

“Will you come with us?” Gregory asked, but he really meant would she come with him. “I have it on good authority,” he said, “that a herd of deadly Argentinian fire ants is about to descend on this place, any minute now.”

“Is that true?” Liana asked suspiciously.

“It may be,” Gregory said.

She smiled. “I expect we will meet again, but I have some things to do first.” She kissed Pipi and patted Jojo, and walked through the open doorway, and was soon out of sight.

And what those things were, and whether they ever met again, is a story for another day.