An old snake who had grown tired of the hunt decided to use a little cunning to obtain his dinner. Instead of chasing his prey one by one, he planned to lure them to his side and gobble them up with a minimum of effort. He would have himself a feast, he said.

So the snake went to a pond where a large colony of frogs lived and stretched out on the ground where his prey could see him. He remained in that spot all day, only moving to let out loud and lengthy sighs of dejection.

At first, the frogs kept their distance, but the snake’s presence unsettled them and its strange behaviour piqued their curiosity. Eventually, the frog king sent a delegation to interrogate the snake. Why hadn’t it moved, they asked. Was it unwell? Was it dying?

“Worse than that,” the snake answered. “I have been cursed. Humiliated. A once sublime and deadly hunter destined for servitude. That’s me. Death would be a blessing to me now.”

Barely able to conceal their delight at its misery, the frogs begged the snake to tell them more. The snake smiled and began a story of misfortune in which he was pursuing a nice plump newt and was just about to strike when a young boy had stepped between them.

The young boy suffered the fatal bite. “And as if this weren’t bad enough,” the snake continued. “The dying boy was the beloved son of a holy man. When the holy man discovered I was responsible for this crime, he cursed me. Cursed rather than killed, as he wanted me to suffer.”

The snake let out another piteous sigh, and then fell silent, as if brooding on its terrible fate. The frogs waited for it to speak again. “But what was this curse? You must tell us!” they demanded. “How could it be worse than death?”

“It hurts me just to think about it, but I will tell you,” the snake replied. “I am to become a beast of burden to those who were my prey and must depend on them for food, receiving only what they choose to offer. Thus, I find I am at your mercy. I am to be your slave, or die.”

The delegation hurried to the king with news of the snake’s proposition. “We must seize this opportunity,” he declared, but his chief advisor tried to dissuade him. “What if it’s a trick?” she counselled. “We should wait and see what it does. Snakes are not to be trusted.”

“You lack courage,” the king countered. “Courage and vision. I shall make it my mount immediately,” And so, with his entourage twitching behind him, the king went out to the snake, hopped onto its back, and squeezing its scaly sides with his heels, he waved goodbye.

The king’s advisors looked on in terror as the snake sped away through the long grass. They gasped as it twisted around bushes and trees, while the king whooped and giggled. But the catastrophe they feared did not occur and the snake brought its new master safely home.

The king dismounted, giddy and triumphant. “Where is your trick now?” he asked. His advisors reminded him of the price they’d have to pay, but the king had an answer: “If the snake may eat only what we offer,” he whispered. “We shall offer him nothing.”

Then, swelling his throat like a balloon, the king declared his regal wishes. “Let this triumph be proclaimed far and wide,” he said. “Let all frogkind be called to gather and witness this our moment of ascendency. It will keep you and your progeny in power for an age,” he added.

The counsellors did as the king asked. News of the snake’s subjugation was spread throughout the land and when the king prepared to ride again the next day a great crowd of ordinary frogs, and toads, greeted him croaking with excitement and wonder.

But this time, when the king mounted the snake and squeezed its scaly sides with his heels, the snake would not budge. “Move, damn you!” the king. “I am tired and weak,” the snake replied. “I have not eaten in days. I fear I am not strong enough to carry you.”

The king looked out at the expectant throng. He could not disappoint them. “Take me for a ride now and you may eat your fill afterwards,” he said. “And what may I eat?” “The ordinary folk,” said the king. “Eat the ordinary folk. We will arrange it for you.”

The snake was indeed very hungry but strong enough to perform tricks for king and onlookers alike. When they returned, the jubilant crowd surged around them and, as they lifted the king from his mount, and he turned to remind the snake to wait, the snake saw its moment had come.

The snake had its feast, swallowing frog after frog until it could swallow no more, while the frogs’ day of triumph came to be remembered instead as an ignominious defeat, though some still maintain their kind will ride the snake again.

© Richard Parkin, 2022