At the Back of the North Wind:A Modern Version of George MacDonald’s Classic

The Hayloft

I am going to tell you about a boy who went to the back of the North Wind. The boy lived in a low room over a coach house. One wall of the room was built only of thin boards, and the boards were so old you could stick a pocketknife right through them into the north wind on the other side. When you pulled the knife out again, the wind would race in after it like a cat after a mouse. Still, the room was not usually very cold unless the north wind was blowing hard. I’m not sure, though, whether I can really call it a room at all, since it was just a loft where they kept hay and straw and oats for the horses. When little Diamond—but wait! I have to tell you that his father, who was a coachman, had named him after his favorite horse, and that his mother hadn’t minded—when little Diamond lay in bed, he could hear the horses under him munching away in the dark, or moving sleepily in their dreams. Diamond’s father had built him a bed in the hayloft, because they didn’t have any room in their little apartment over the coach house. Diamond’s father put old Diamond in the stall under the bed, because he was a quiet horse and slept lying down. But even though he was a reasonable horse, when young Diamond woke up in the middle of the night and felt his bed shaking in the north wind, he could not help wondering whether, if the wind blew the house down and he fell into the manger below, old Diamond might eat him before he recognized him. And even though old Diamond was very quiet all night, when he woke up and got to his feet he felt like an earthquake, and then young Diamond knew what time it was, or at least what was to be done next, which was to go to sleep again as fast as he could.

There was hay at little Diamond’s feet and hay at his head, piled up to the roof. Sometimes he had to follow a twisting little path through the hay to get to his bed at all. The amount of hay was, of course, always changing. Sometimes, as he lay in bed, he could see the whole open loft, with the little windows in the roof for the stars to look in; sometimes a sweet-smelling yellow wall was all he could see.

At night sometimes, instead of getting into bed, he would stretch out on the hay and lie there thinking how cold it was outside in the wind, and how warm it was in his bed, and how he could get into bed whenever he wanted—only not yet; he would get a little colder first. And as he got colder, his bed would get warmer, until finally he would scramble out of the hay, shoot like an arrow into his bed, cover himself up, and snuggle down, thinking what a happy boy he was.

Now, as I have already said, the wall behind Diamond’s bed was soft and crumbly in many places, even though the boards had been covered in tar on the outside. After he lay down one night, little Diamond discovered that one of these soft places had worn away, and a knot had fallen out of one of the boards, so that the cold wind blew in on him. He jumped out of bed again, got a little handful of hay, twisted it up, folded it in the middle, and stuck it into the hole in the wall like a cork. But the wind began to blow loudly and angrily, and, as Diamond was falling asleep, his cork blew out and hit him on the nose, just hard enough to wake him up, and he heard the wind whistling shrilly through the hole. He looked for his hay-cork, found it, pushed it in harder, and was just dropping off to sleep again, when, pop! with an angry whistle behind it, the cork hit him again, this time on the cheek. He got up again, made a new plug of hay, and corked the hole firmly. But he had hardly lain down again before—pop! it hit him on the forehead. He gave up, pulled the blankets over his head, and was soon asleep.

The next day was very stormy, but Diamond had forgotten all about the hole. He was busy making a cave beside his mother’s fireplace, using a broken chair, a three-legged stool, and a blanket. But his mother found the hole and glued some brown paper over it, so that when Diamond had snuggled down the next night he didn’t have any reason to think about it. After a moment, though, he lifted his head and listened. He thought he heard someone talking to him. The wind was blowing harder again and getting very loud. He was sure someone was talking—and very close to him, too. But he was not afraid, because he hadn’t learned how to be afraid yet, so he sat up and listened hard. At last he realized that the voice, which was gentle but sounded a little angry, seemed to come from behind the bed. He crept closer and put his ear against the wall, but he couldn’t hear anything except the wind, which sounded very loud.

As soon as he moved his head away from the wall, he heard the voice again, close to his ear. He felt around and touched the piece of paper his mother had glued over the hole. He put his ear up to the paper, and then he could hear the voice clearly. A corner of the paper was loose, and the voice came from there, as though it were a mouth in the wall.

Why did you close up my window, little boy? the voice asked.

What window? asked Diamond.

You stuffed hay into it three times last night, the voice said. I had to blow it out again three times.

This little hole? This isn’t a window; it’s a hole in my wall.

I didn’t say it was a window; I said it was my window.

But it can’t be a window, because windows are holes to see out of, Diamond objected.

Well, that’s what I made this window for.

But you are outside; you don’t need a window.

You’re wrong. You say that windows are to see out of. Well, I’m in my house, and I want windows to see out of it.

But you’ve made a window into my bed.

Well, your mother has three windows looking into my dancing room, and you have three into my attic.

But when my mother wanted my father to make a window through the wall, I heard him say that it was against the law, because it would look into Mr. Dyves’s garden.

The voice laughed. The law would have trouble catching me! it said.

But if it’s not right, you know, said Diamond, then you shouldn’t do it.

I am so tall I am above that law, said the voice.

You must have a tall house, then, said Diamond.

Yes, so tall the clouds are inside it.

Oh my! said Diamond, and thought a minute. I think, then, you can’t expect me to keep a window in my bed for you. Why don’t you make a window into Mr. Dyves’s bed?

Nobody makes a window looking into an ash pit, said the voice sadly. I like to see nice things out my windows.

But he must have a nicer bed than I have, although mine is very nice—so nice that I couldn’t wish for a better one.

It’s not the bed I care about: it’s what is in it. Just open that window.

Well, Mother says I should be accommodating, but if I do, the north wind will blow right in my face.

I am the North Wind.

O-o-oh! said Diamond, thoughtfully. Then will you promise not to blow on my face if I open your window?

I can’t promise that.

But you’ll give me a toothache. Mother has one already.

But what will happen to me without a window?

I don’t know, but it will be worse for me than for you.

No, it won’t. I promise you that you won’t be the worse for it. You will be much the better for it. Just believe what I say, and do as I tell you.

Well, I can pull the blankets over my head, said Diamond, and feeling with his sharp little fingernails, he found the loose corner of the paper and tore it off.

A long whistling spear of cold rushed in and hit his bare little chest. He scrambled under the blankets and covered himself up. There was no paper now between him and the voice, and he felt a little—not frightened exactly, I told you he had not learned that yet—but rather odd. What a strange person this North Wind must be, who lived in the huge house—called Outdoors, I suppose, thought Diamond—and made windows into people’s beds! But the voice spoke again, and he could hear it clearly, even with his head under the covers. It was a more gentle voice now, although six times as large and loud as it had been, and he thought it sounded a little like his mother’s.

What is your name, little boy? it asked.

Diamond, answered Diamond, under the blankets.

What a funny name!

It’s a very nice name, declared its owner.

I don’t know about that, said the voice.

Well, I do, retorted Diamond, a little rudely.

Do you know to whom you are speaking?

No, said Diamond. And he really didn’t, since knowing a person’s name isn’t the same as knowing a person’s real self.

Then I can’t be angry with you. You’d better look and see, though.

Diamond is a very pretty name, persisted the boy, annoyed.

Diamond is a rather useless thing, said the voice.

That’s not true. Diamond is very nice and so quiet all night! And he makes such a lot of noise in the morning, getting up on his four big legs! It’s like thunder.

You don’t seem to know what a diamond is.

Yes, I do! Diamond is a good horse, and he sleeps right under me. He is old Diamond, and I am young Diamond; or, if you like it better, Mr. North Wind, he’s big Diamond, and I’m little Diamond; and I don’t know which of us my father likes best.

He heard a beautiful laugh somewhere beside him, large but soft and musical, but he kept his head under the blankets.

I’m not Mr. North Wind, said the voice.

You told me that you were the North Wind, insisted Diamond.

I didn’t say Mr. North Wind, said the voice.

But I did, because mother told me I should be polite.

I don’t think it’s polite of you to say Mister to me.

Well, I didn’t know better. I’m very sorry.

But you should know better. You can’t say it’s polite to lie there talking with your head under the covers and never look up to see who you are talking to. I want you to come out.

I want to go to sleep, said Diamond, almost in tears; he didn’t like to be scolded, even when he deserved it.

A huge gust of wind crashed against the boards of the wall and swept the blankets off Diamond. He jumped up in terror. Leaning over him was the large, beautiful, pale face of a woman. Her dark eyes looked a little angry, but her upper lip was quivering as if she were going to cry. The strangest thing was that her black hair streamed away from her head in every direction, so that the darkness in the hayloft looked as if it were made of her hair, but as Diamond stared at her in amazement, her hair came together out of the darkness and fell down around her, so that her face looked like the moon looking out of a cloud. All that Diamond could see of her was her face and her hair, and he could see that much only by the light that came from her eyes. The wind had stopped blowing.

Will you go with me now, you little Diamond? asked the lady.

Yes, I will, Diamond answered, holding out his arms to her. But, he added, dropping them, how will I get my clothes? They’re in Mother’s room, and the door is locked.

Don’t worry about your clothes. You won’t be cold. Nobody is cold with the North Wind.

I thought everybody was, said Diamond.

That’s a mistake that most people make. They’re cold not because they are with the North Wind, but because they are without it.

If Diamond had been a little older, and thought he was a lot smarter, he would have thought the woman was joking. But since he was not older, and did not think he was smarter, he understood her well enough. He stretched out his arms again. The woman’s face moved back a little.

Follow me, Diamond, she said.

Yes, said Diamond, with only a little regret.

You’re not afraid? said the North Wind.

No, ma’am, but Mother would never let me go without shoes. She didn’t say anything about clothes, so I guess she wouldn’t mind that.

I know your mother very well, said the woman. She is a good woman. I have visited her often. I was with her when you were born and saw her laugh and cry at the same time. I love your mother, Diamond.

Then why didn’t you know my name, ma’am? Please, should I call you ma’am, ma’am?

One question at a time, dear boy. I knew your name quite well, but I wanted to hear what you would say for it. Do you remember how I blew the window open that day when the man was criticizing your name?

Yes, yes, answered Diamond, eagerly. Our window opens like a door, right over the coach house door. And the wind—you, ma’am—came in and blew the Bible out of the man’s hands, and the pages went all flutter, flutter on the floor, and my mother picked it up and gave it back to him open, and there—

—was your name in the Bible—the sixth stone in the high priest’s breastplate.

Oh!—it was a stone? said Diamond. I thought it meant a horse.

Never mind. A horse is better than a stone. So you see, I know all about you and your mother.

Yes. I will go with you.

Now for the next question: you’re not to call me ma’am. Call me my own name—respectfully, of course— just North Wind.

North Wind, you’re so beautiful, I’m ready to go with you.

You shouldn’t be ready to go with everything beautiful right away, Diamond.

But what’s beautiful can’t be bad. You’re not bad, North Wind?

No, I’m not bad. But sometimes beautiful things become bad by doing bad, and it takes some time before their badness spoils their beauty. So little boys might be wrong if they go after things just because they’re beautiful.

Well, I will go with you because you are beautiful and good, too.

But that’s another thing, Diamond: What if I looked ugly without being bad—looked ugly myself because I am making ugly things beautiful?—What then?

I don’t understand, North Wind. You tell me what then.

I’ll tell you. If you see me with my face all twisted, don’t be afraid. If you see me flapping wings like a bat’s, as big as the whole sky, don’t be afraid. If you hear me raging ten times worse than Mrs. Bill, the blacksmith’s wife—even if you see me looking in people’s windows like Mrs. Eve Dropper, the gardener’s wife—you need to believe that I am doing my work. Even if I change into a snake or a tiger, Diamond, don’t let go of me; my hand will never change in yours if you hold on tight. If you hold on, you will know who I am even if you look at me and I look like something awful instead of like the North Wind. Do you understand?

Yes, said little Diamond.

Come along, then, said North Wind, and disappeared behind the mountain of hay.

So Diamond climbed out of bed and followed her.

***

Chapter 2

The Lawn

Diamond hesitated for a moment after he had walked around the corner of the hay. He would usually have gone down the stairs, but they were on the other side of the loft and they looked very dark, since North Wind had just gone down them and they were full of her hair. Right next to him was the ladder going down into the stable, which his father always came up to get the hay for Diamond’s dinner. Through the opening in the floor, he could see the inviting glow of the stable lantern, and Diamond thought he would run down that way.

Diamond was halfway down the ladder when he realized that he wouldn’t be able to get out this way, because the stable door was locked. But just then horse Diamond put his head out of his stall onto the ladder. He recognized boy Diamond even though he was wearing his nightclothes, and wanted him to pull his ears for him. Diamond did this very gently for a minute or so, and kissed the big horse, and patted and stroked his neck, and had started to take the bits of straw and hay out of his mane, when he suddenly remembered that the Lady North Wind was waiting for him in the yard.

Good night, Diamond, he said, and ran up the ladder, across the loft, and down the stairs to the door. But when he got out into the yard, there was no lady.

It is always a terrible thing to think somebody is there and find nobody. Children especially have trouble with it and it often makes them cry, especially when they wake up alone in the night. Diamond was very disappointed to find the North Wind not there; his heart had been beating with joy. To have a lady like that for a friend—her face was so magnificent, and she had such long hair, too! It was longer than twenty Diamonds’ tails! But she was gone, and there he stood, barefoot on the stones of the paved yard.

It was a clear night, and the stars were shining—Orion was especially bright with his sparkling belt and golden sword—although the moon was only a thin crescent. There was one huge, black-and-gray cloud in the sky, with a steep side like a cliff, and the moon was against this side, as if she had fallen off the top of the cloud hill, and broken something rolling down the cliff. She didn’t look very comfortable, since she was looking down into the deep pit of the sky she was slipping into. At least that was what Diamond thought as he stood for a moment staring at her. But he was wrong: the moon was not afraid, and there was no pit, because it had no sides, and a pit without sides is not a pit at all.

Diamond had never been out so late before, and everything looked very strange to him. He felt as if he had wandered into Fairyland. If you had been outside in your nightclothes on a cold and frosty night in the face of the North Wind instead of at her back, you would have felt as strange as Diamond did. He cried just a little, he was so disappointed to lose the lady, but a little gentle crying is often good for you. As soon Diamond stopped crying, he felt brave again.

She can’t say it was my fault, anyway! said Diamond. She’s probably hiding somewhere to see what I’ll do. I’ll go look for her.

He went around the end of the stable toward the kitchen garden, but the wind struck him as soon as he was out of the shelter of the stable, sharp against his bare legs. He was still determined to look in the kitchen garden, though, and went on. When he got around the weeping ash that stood in the corner, the wind started to blow even harder, until he could hardly fight against it. And it was so cold! Then he thought about what the lady had said about people being cold because they were not with the North Wind. I don’t know why he guessed at that moment what she meant, but I have noticed that, wonderfully, people can come to understand anything. He turned his back on the wind, and walked quickly toward the yard again. Although it seemed strange, the wind blew much more gently against his calves than it had against his shins, and he started feeling almost warm.

Don’t think Diamond was cowardly for turning his back on the wind: he only did it because he thought Lady North Wind had told him to. If she had told him to keep his face to the wind, Diamond would have kept his face to it.

Diamond felt as if the wind was pushing him along. If he turned around, it became sharp and cold on his legs, so he thought the wind might really be Lady North Wind, even though he couldn’t see her, and that he’d better let her blow him wherever she wanted. So she kept blowing and he kept walking, until he found himself standing in front of a door in a wall. The door led from the yard into a little belt of shrubbery, running alongside Mr. Coleman’s house. (Mr. Coleman was his father’s employer, horse Diamond’s owner.)

Diamond opened the door, went through the shrubbery, and walked out onto the lawn, still hoping to find North Wind. The soft grass felt good under his bare feet and warm after the stones of the yard, but the lady was not there. He started to think that he must have done something wrong after all, and that she was upset with him for staying to talk to the horse instead of following her right away; certainly it hadn’t been polite.

He stood in the middle of the lawn, with the wind flapping his nightclothes like a loose sail. The stars were very shiny overhead, but they didn’t give enough light to show that the grass was green. Diamond stood alone in the strange, unreal night and began to wonder whether or not he was dreaming. He thought it was important to figure this out, since, he thought, if I’m dreaming, I’m safe in bed, and I don’t need to cry, but if I’m not dreaming, I’m out here, and maybe I’d better cry, or, at least, I’m not sure if I can help it. He decided, though, that whether or not he was dreaming it wouldn’t hurt not to