← Stories Podcast: A Bedtime Show for Kids of All Ages
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Hello. Welcome to Stories Podcast. I'm your host, Amanda Weldon. Today's story is a throwback episode. Tune in to hear one of our classic stories from the archive that you might have missed the first time around. We have Stories Podcast merch, available@storiespodcast.com shop. We're also on cameo for all of your personalized video message needs. And don't forget to follow us on Instagram Stories Podcast. If you send us a drawing of your favorite scene or character, we'll share it on our feed. Now, here's a word from our sponsors. Thanks. Enjoy the episode the Mouse Tower Once upon a time, on the verdant banks of the river Rhine, there was a castle. It belonged to the local lord, one Archbishop Haddo ii, or just Haddo for short. He was an old and greedy man who loved to dress in only the finest silks. He would eat banquets each night off of golden plates with golden forks and drink golden wine from golden goblets. And he didn't really care what anyone thought of it. Haddo's castle on the river Rhine loomed over the water like a drinking bear, but it wasn't the secret to his power. No, that honor belonged to the toll tower sitting in the center of the river. Reachable only by a careful boat ride, the tower loomed high and had a clear view for miles both upstream and down. Any boats that happened down the river had to pass under its shadow. That would have been intimidating enough for most people, but not for Haddo. The lord made sure there were always a dozen archers, arrows at the ready to perched on the tower's peak like hungry ravens. Any boat that came by would be stopped by a shout from Hans Hatto's captain of the guard. Ho there, he'd say. Can't pass by the toll tower without paying the toll. The boat captains would look at the well armored guard and then to the archers on the tower's peak, and they'd pay. If they couldn't afford to pay with money, they'd surrender some of their goods. In this way, Haddo was soon a very rich lord. But even very rich wasn't rich enough for Haddo. Hans, he said, go out and buy all the wheat that's grown this year. Take the money from our treasury. I want to own every puff of flour. I want to own every bite of bread. I want to own it all. Hans did as he was told, and soon the castle's storerooms were full to bursting and the land around was empty. The people who worked the land, whom Hado called peasants soon found that there was nothing to eat. They looked sadly at their bare cupboards and listened to their stomachs rumble. The word got out that Haddo had a castle full of wheat, and soon a crowd gathered outside the thick stone walls. Please. Please. They. They cried. We are hungry. We are starving. And you have more than you could eat in a hundred lifetimes. Haddo smiled. This had been his plan all along. Flanked by Hans and a troop of burly knights, he stood atop the castle gates to address the mob. I hear that you are hungry. He called, and they quieted to listen. I hear that your bellies are empty and grumbling. Well, grumble no more. There is plenty of food here in the castle. The crowd cheered. Parents picked up kids and set them on their shoulders. People danced in the mud. Some whooped with joy and splashed in the nearby river. But of course, haddo continued, of course nothing is for free, and I've done all the work of gatherings of each, so it's only fair I get my due. He motioned to Hans, and the guard lifted a sack that was overflowing with dark loaves of rich, nutty bread. The crowd could smell it even from far below. Hundreds of mouths began to water all at once. So who would like the first loaf? Let's start the bidding at one gold piece. The crowd went silent, so silent you could hear the sniffles of hungry kids and the growlings of empty bellies. Finally, a squat old man called back, von Gold piece for a loaf of bread? That's robbery. Address the archbishop with respect, snapped Hans, and on the tower's roof, the archers drew their bows. Sorry, said the man, holding up his hands. Beg your pardons, but we haven't got any gold. Not a one of us. We're farmers, crofters, servants, and maids. The rest of the crowd muttered their agreement. A piece of gold may as well have been a piece of rainbow for all the chance they had at getting it. We could maybe scrape together some copper. Maybe a few could melt down some family heirlooms for silver. But gold? I'm sorry, but we don't have it. Not a scrap. Well then, said Haddo, I guess you won't have my bread either. Not a scrap. He turned and walked away from the gate. The crowd called after him, hungry and desperate. But the castle walls were thick, and the knights had swords and clubs and armor, while they had nothing but old wool and empty bellies. All they could do was sit at the gates and holler. And that's what they did. Haddo retreated deep into the castle, where he had a meal of fresh bread and butter with well preserved salt mutton. He ate it with a golden fork off a golden plate and washed it down with golden wine from a golden goblet. All the while, the crowd outside cried for help. What should we do with them? Hans asked. After dinner I could have a few of the knights run them off. Maybe lose some arrows to hurry them along. Forget it. Said Haddo, waving his gleaming fork. They'll find the gold or they'll starve. They won't stop the hollering, hans said. It grates on the ears. Pah. Don't you worry. It's nothing but the squeak of mice. That night, full and happy, Haddo climbed into his giant four poster bed. It was carved of dark mahogany and draped with the finest silks and velvets, all in a deep and regal red. He could still hear the grumblings of the crowd outside the castle walls, but they didn't concern him. He yawned and stretched out in his sheets, already starting to drift off. Something tickled his toes. He tossed and turned, thinking it was a loose feather. The tickle again. Then a sharp pain on his big toe. Yow. What was that? He snapped, flipping back the blankets. There, nestled in the sheets, was a chubby little mouse. It had big eyes and whiskers and would have been adorable in other circumstances. Get out of here. He shouted, slapping at the blankets. Shoo. Shoo. The mouse scampered away and Haddo got back into bed, heaving a sigh. Now for a quick ad break. We'll be back with the rest of the story after this. If you'd like Stories Podcast and other favorite kid Podcasts ad free. Subscribe to Wondery Kids on Apple Podcasts. Meet the Sewer surfing super sleuth partners Mango and brash two Alligator secret agents who travel through the city's plumbing sewers to fight crime and solve wacky mysteries together. They're the Investigators. 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Right now, Skylight is offering our listeners $30 off their 15 inch calendars by going to myskylight.com stories go to myskylight.com stories for $30 off your 15 inch calendar. That is my S K Y-L-I G-H-T.com stories then he felt a nip on his other big toe. He leapt out of bed and pulled the covers with him. This time there wasn't one chubby mouse. There were a dozen. They looked at him with clever little eyes and squeaked, making a nest of my bed. That'll be your last mistake. He stalked over to the fireplace, meaning to grab the heavy iron shovel the servants use to scoop out ash. When he reached for it, though, another chubby mouse leapt out of the holder with a mighty squee. Hatto fell back against the bed, his hand landing in the middle of a puddle of mice. He looked with horror. There were more than a hundred now. Chubby, fuzzy little mice with dopey ears and friendly whiskers. They started to flow up his arm like a living sweater. Ah. Help. He cried, shaking the mice off and stumbling towards his door. Hans Guards. Anyone. Help. The door was wrenched open and two guards surged in ready for battle. One had a longsword, the other a heavy iron capped club. Both of their jaws fell open when they saw the bed, now nearly completely full of mice in whites and grays. Browns Haddo pushed past them and ran into the hall. Behind him, he heard frenzied squeaking, and when he chanced a look over his shoulder, his heart began to pound. There were even more mice now. They flooded past the guards and swept them off their feet. In an instant, both men were lost beneath the adorable fuzzy tide. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. Hans. Hans. Haddo cried as the mice came squeaking after him. Help me. He rounded a corner back to the dining hall and skidded to a stop. Oh. Oh, no. The room was awash in mice. They covered the floor like a whiskered carpet. They dangled from the chandeliers and swung like acrobats, squealing with delight. They were swimming in the stew pot and tumbling on the table. One particularly chubby fellow was reclined in the butter dish smeared with yellow. Hans broke free and grabbed Haddo by the front of his pajamas. They're everywhere. He cried. They found all the bread in the basement. They are endless. He held up his shield and bonked away. A tubby mouse that had swung down from the curtains a second, landed on his shoulder and pulled at the corners of his drooping mustache. Archbishop, you have to run. He swung his sword and shield, but the mice were everywhere, squeaking happily. They ran up and down his body, finding the gaps in his suit of armor and slipping inside. Hatto, you have to run. Run. He fell to the ground, laughing and rolling wildly. The mice swarmed over him, tickling him madly, and headed towards Hatto. The archbishop screamed and ran through the great hall, through the barracks and the stables, and finally to the small dock. Hid behind the castle's walls on the river's edge. The mice were right on his heels every step of the way. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. He pushed the boat into the water and leapt in, shaking a few mice free of his feet. Grabbing the oars, he rowed madly, making for the toll tower in the middle of the river. The mice didn't stop. They came swimming after him like squeaking fuzzy fish. A dozen, a hundred, an entire fleet of them. Hans was right. The things were endless. The second the prow hit the beach, he was off. Sprinting to the tower's iron door, he went through and slammed it behind him with a resounding clang. Inside, his archers sat around a low table, playing a game of dice. Mein er? One of them asked, and then they noticed Haddo's frantic breathing and torn clothes. Mein ear. What is wrong? Ze mice. The mice are everywhere. Haddo cried, running for the stairs. Grab your bows and get back on the roof. It's too dark. To shoot. Get on the roof. The archers ran to the front of the room to grab their bows and quivers. As they geared up, the iron door began to groan. What's all that? One of the archers asked, leaning close to the door. Get back to the roof. The archers were frozen in place, transfixed, as the iron door began to bend and buckle. From the keyhole, a fuzzy mouse wriggled and plopped to the floor. Monsters. Screamed Haddo. Just a mouse. Mynheer. Said the archer. Handsome little frau, isn't she? He bent down to pick it up, and then the door ripped off the wall with the scream of metal bolts pulling free from the tower stone. A pile, a tide, an endless cascade of mice poured through, flooding the room. They squeaked and squealed and peeped and popped and ran up the bows and down the arrows and over the archers until the entire room was nothing but cuddly, fuzzy mice. Squeak, squeak, squeak. Haddo flew up the stairs and found the ladder to the roof. He climbed it two rungs at a time, and pulled himself up on the stone archer's platform above. Please, no more. He was alone for a moment, but could still hear the squeaking above and below, and from all sides it came the endless squeak, squeak, squeak of the mice. They covered the river below. They coated the entire castle like a living moss, and they flowed up the sides of the tower tower as easy as spiders. No. No more. Please. Please, I beg of you. The mice boiled up from the ladder and crashed over the tower's sides. They swarmed over Haddo, and soon he was covered. He cried out for help, but there were only mice. Help. Help. They skittered up his neck, over his mouth. Maybe I'll do this. It all started to go dark. Mein Herr. Mein Ear. Haddo opened his eyes cautiously. Hans was there above him, looking concerned. Mein Ear, are you okay? You were screaming in your sleep. The archbishop sat up and looked around. He was still in his bed in his room at the castle. Had it all been a dream? Some ice? The mice? He asked, frantic. What of the mice? I can still hear their squeaking. The mice? Hans asked. That's just the crowd outside begging for food. Like you said, just the squeaking of the mice. They won't quit. Feed them, haddo said. But they don't have the gold. Forget the gold, Haddo said. Open the basement. Share out the feed. The bread, the flour, all of it. All of the food. All of it. But, mein heir, are you sure? Haddo reached up and grabbed Hans by the collar. I have never been more sure. Of anything in my life. Now go see that it is done. Hans nodded and rushed to obey. Not an hour later, the crowd fell silent as the castle gates clanged open. The guards appeared, and for a moment the hungry people worried they were being chased off. But then more guards emerged, wheeling cart after cart of bread, steaming hot in the chill winter air. They cheered then and praised Haddo's name, eating their fill and going home with bags full of flour to bake. Soon after, Haddo stopped threatening merchants, and he changed the name from the Toll Tower to the Mouse Tower. And it's still called that today. And if you ever find yourself on the River Rhine, the castle and tower are still there and open for visitors. And who knows, you may even see a mouse the End Today's story, the Mouse Tower, was an adaptation of A Legend of the Rhine written for you by Daniel Hines and performed for you by me, Amanda Weldon. If you would like to support Stories podcast, you can leave us a five star review on iTunes. Check out all of our merch available@storiespodcast.com Shop Commission a special video on Cameo, Follow us on Instagram oriespodcast or simply tell your friends about us. Thanks for listening.