Once there was a man who shunned the world, and lived in the wilderness.
He owned nothing but a flock of sheep, whose milk and wool he sold, and
so procured himself bread to eat; he also carried wooden spoons, and
sold them. He had a wife and one little girl, and after a long time
his wife had another child. The evening it was born the man went to
the nearest village to fetch a nurse, and on the way he met a monk who
begged him for a night’s lodging. This the man willingly granted, and
took him home with him. There being no one far nor near to baptize the
child, the man asked the monk to do him this service, and the child was
given the name of Janni.
In the course of time Janni’s parents died, and he and his sister were
left alone in the world; soon affairs went badly with them, so they
determined to wander away to seek their fortune. In packing up, the
sister found a knife which the monk had left for his godson, and this
she gave to her brother.
Then they went on their way, taking with them the three sheep which were
all that remained of their flocks. After wandering for three days
they met a man with three dogs who proposed that they should exchange
animals, he taking the sheep, and they the dogs. The brother and sister
were quite pleased at this arrangement, and after the exchange was made
they separated, and went their different ways.
Janni and his sister in course of time came to a great castle, in which
dwelt forty Draken, who, when they heard that Janni had come, fled forty
fathoms underground.
So Janni found the castle deserted, and abode there with his sister, and
every day went out to hunt with the weapons the Draken had left in the
castle.
One day, when he was away hunting, one of the Draken came up to get
provisions, not knowing that there was anyone in the castle. When he saw
Janni’s sister he was terrified, but she told him not to be afraid, and
by-and-by they fell in love with each other, for every time that Janni
went to hunt the sister called the Drakos up. Thus they went on making
love to each other till at length, unknown to Janni, they got married.
Then, when it was too late, the sister repented, and was afraid of
Janni’s wrath when he found it out.
One day the Drakos came to her, and said: ‘You must pretend to be ill,
and when Janni asks what ails you, and what you want, you must answer:
“Cherries,” and when he inquires where these are to be found, you must
say: “There are some in a garden a day’s journey from here.” Then your
brother will go there, and will never come back, for there dwell three
of my brothers who will look after him well.’
Then the sister did as the Drakos advised, and next day Janni set out to
fetch the cherries, taking his three dogs with him. When he came to the
garden where the cherries grew he jumped off his horse, drank some water
from the spring, which rose there, and fell directly into a deep sleep.
The Draken came round about to eat him, but the dogs flung themselves on
them and tore them in pieces, and scratched a grave in the ground with
their paws, and buried the Draken so that Janni might not see their dead
bodies. When Janni awoke, and saw his dogs all covered with blood, he
believed that they had caught, somewhere, a wild beast, and was angry
because they had left none of it for him. But he plucked the cherries,
and took them back to his sister.
When the Drakos heard that Janni had come back, he fled for fear forty
fathoms underground. And the sister ate the cherries and declared
herself well again.
The next day, when Janni was gone to hunt, the Drakos came out, and
advised the sister that she should pretend to be ill again, and when her
brother asked her what she would like, she should answer ‘Quinces,’ and
when he inquired where these were to be found, she should say: ‘In a
garden distant about two days’ journey.’ Then would Janni certainly be
destroyed, for there dwelt six brothers of the Drakos, each of whom had
two heads.
The sister did as she was advised, and next day Janni again set
off, taking his three dogs with him. When he came to the garden he
dismounted, sat down to rest a little, and fell fast asleep. First there
came three Draken round about to eat him, and when these three had been
worried by the dogs, there came three others who were worried in like
manner. Then the dogs again dug a grave and buried the dead Draken, that
their master might not see them. When Janni awoke and beheld the dogs
all covered with blood, he thought, as before, that they had killed a
wild beast, and was again angry with them for leaving him nothing. But
he took the quinces and brought them back to his sister, who, when she
had eaten them, declared herself better. The Drakos, when he heard that
Janni had come back, fled for fear forty fathoms deeper underground.
Next day, when Janni was hunting, the Drakos went to the sister and
advised that she should again pretend to be ill, and should beg for some
pears, which grew in a garden three days’ journey from the castle. From
this quest Janni would certainly never return, for there dwelt nine
brothers of the Drakos, each of whom had three heads.
The sister did as she was told, and next day Janni, taking his three
dogs with him, went to get the pears. When he came to the garden he laid
himself down to rest, and soon fell asleep.
Then first came three Draken to eat him, and when the dogs had worried
these, six others came and fought the dogs a long time. The noise of
this combat awoke Janni, and he slew the Draken, and knew at last why
the dogs were covered with blood.
After that he freed all whom the Draken held prisoners, amongst others,
a king’s daughter. Out of gratitude she would have taken him for her
husband; but he put her off, saying: ‘For the kindness that I have been
able to do to you, you shall receive in this castle all the blind and
lame who pass this way.’ The princess promised him to do so, and on his
departure gave him a ring.
So Janni plucked the pears and took them to his sister, who, when she
had eaten them, declared she felt better. When, however, the Drakos
heard that Janni had come back yet a third time safe and sound, he fled
for fright forty fathoms deeper underground; and, next day, when Janni
was away hunting, he crept out and said to the sister: ‘Now are we
indeed both lost, unless you find out from him wherein his strength
lies, and then between us we will contrive to do away with him.’
When, therefore, Janni had come back from hunting, and sat at evening
with his sister by the fire, she begged him to tell her wherein lay
his strength, and he answered: ‘It lies in my two fingers; if these are
bound together then all my strength disappears.’
‘That I will not believe,’ said the sister, ‘unless I see it for
myself.’
Then he let her tie his fingers together with a thread, and immediately
he became powerless. Then the sister called up the Drakos, who, when he
had come forth, tore out Janni’s eyes, gave them to his dogs to eat, and
threw him into a dry well.
Now it happened that some travellers, going to draw water from this
well, heard Janni groaning at the bottom. They came near, and asked him
where he was, and he begged them to draw him up from the well, for he
was a poor unfortunate man.
The travellers let a rope down and drew him up to daylight. It was not
till then that he first became aware that he was blind, and he begged
the travellers to lead him to the country of the king whose daughter he
had freed, and they would be well repaid for their trouble.
When they had brought him there he sent to beg the princess to come to
him; but she did not recognise him till he had shown her the ring she
had given him.
Then she remembered him, and took him with her into the castle.
When she learnt what had befallen him she called together all the
sorceresses in the country in order that they should tell her where the
eyes were. At last she found one who declared that she knew where they
were, and that she could restore them. This sorceress then went straight
to the castle where dwelt the sister and the Drakos, and gave something
to the dogs to eat which caused the eyes to reappear. She took them with
her and put them back in Janni’s head, so that he saw as well as before.
Then he returned to the castle of the Drakos, whom he slew as well as
his sister; and, taking his dogs with him, went back to the princess and
they were immediately married.
The Partnership of the Thief and the Liar.
There was once upon a time a thief, who, being out of a job, was
wandering by himself up and down the seashore. As he walked he passed a
man who was standing still, looking at the waves.
‘I wonder,’ said the thief, addressing the stranger, ‘if you have ever
seen a stone swimming?’
‘Most certainly I have,’ replied the other man, ‘and, what is more, I
saw the same stone jump out of the water and fly through the air.’
‘This is capital,’ replied the thief. ‘You and I must go into
partnership. We shall certainly make our fortunes. Let us start together
for the palace of the king of the neighbouring country. When we get
there, I will go into his presence alone, and will tell him the most
startling thing I can invent. Then you must follow and back up my lie.’
Having agreed to do this, they set out on their travels. After several
days’ journeying, they reached the town where the king’s palace was, and
here they parted for a few hours, while the thief sought an interview
with the king, and begged his majesty to give him a glass of beer.
‘That is impossible,’ said the king, ‘as this year there has been a
failure of all the crops, and of the hops and the vines; so we have
neither wine nor beer in the whole kingdom.’
‘How extraordinary!’ answered the thief. ‘I have just come from a
country where the crops were so fine that I saw twelve barrels of beer
made out of one branch of hops.’
‘I bet you three hundred florins that is not true,’ answered the king.
‘And I bet you three hundred florins it is true,’ replied the thief.
Then each staked his three hundred florins, and the king said he would
decide the question by sending a servant into that country to see if it
was true.
So the servant set out on horseback, and on the way he met a man, and
he asked him whence he came. And the man told him that he came from the
self-same country to which the servant was at that moment bound.
‘If that is the case,’ said the servant, ‘you can tell me how high the
hops grow in your country, and how many barrels of beer can be brewed
from one branch?’
‘I can’t tell you that,’ answered the man, ‘but I happened to be present
when the hops were being gathered in, and I saw that it took three men
with axes three days to cut down one branch.’
Then the servant thought that he might save himself a long journey; so
he gave the man ten florins, and told him he must repeat to the king
what he had just told him. And when they got back to the palace, they
came together into the king’s presence.
And the king asked him: ‘Well, is it true about the hops?’
‘Yes, sire, it is,’ answered the servant; ‘and here is a man I have
brought with me from the country to confirm the tale.’
So the king paid the thief the three hundred florins; and the partners
once more set out together in search of adventures. As they journeyed,
the thief said to his comrade: ‘I will now go to another king, and will
tell him something still more startling; and you must follow and back up
my lie, and we shall get some money out of him; just see if we don’t.’
When they reached the next kingdom, the thief presented himself to
the king, and requested him to give him a cauliflower. And the
king answered: ‘Owing to a blight among the vegetables we have no
cauliflower.’
‘That is strange,’ answered the thief. ‘I have just come from a country
where it grows so well that one head of cauliflower filled twelve
water-tubs.’
‘I don’t believe it,’ answered the king.
‘I bet you six hundred florins it is true,’ replied the thief.
‘And I bet you six hundred florins it is not true,’ answered the king.
And he sent for a servant, and ordered him to start at once for the
country whence the thief had come, to find out if his story of the
cauliflower was true. On his journey the servant met with a man.
Stopping his horse he asked him where he came from, and the man replied
that he came from the country to which the other was travelling.
‘If that is the case,’ said the servant, ‘you can tell me to what size
cauliflower grows in your country? Is it so large that one head fills
twelve water-tubs?’
‘I have not seen that,’ answered the man. ‘But I saw twelve waggons,
drawn by twelve horses, carrying one head of cauliflower to the market.’
And the servant answered: ‘Here are ten florins for you, my man, for you
have saved me a long journey. Come with me now, and tell the king what
you have just told me.’
‘All right,’ said the man, and they went together to the palace; and
when the king asked the servant if he had found out the truth about
the cauliflower, the servant replied: ‘Sire, all that you heard was
perfectly true; here is a man from the country who will tell you so.’
So the king had to pay the thief the six hundred florins. And the two
partners set out once more on their travels, with their nine hundred
florins. When they reached the country of the neighbouring king, the
thief entered the royal presence, and began conversation by asking if
his majesty knew that in an adjacent kingdom there was a town with a
church steeple on which a bird had alighted, and that the steeple was
so high, and the bird’s beak so long, that it had pecked the stars till
some of them fell out of the sky.
‘I don’t believe it,’ said the king.
‘Nevertheless I am prepared to bet twelve hundred florins that it is
true,’ answered the thief.
‘And I bet twelve hundred florins that it is a lie,’ replied the king.
And he straightway sent a servant into the neighbouring country to find
out the truth.
As he rode, the servant met a man coming in the opposite direction. So
he hailed him and asked him where he came from. And the man replied
that he came out of the very town to which the man was bound. Then the
servant asked him if the story they had heard about the bird with the
long beak was true.
‘I don’t know about that,’ answered the man, ‘as I have never seen the
bird; but I once saw twelve men shoving all their might and main with
brooms to push a monster egg into a cellar.’
‘That is capital,’ answered the servant, presenting the man with ten
florins. ‘Come and tell your tale to the king, and you will save me a
long journey.’
So, when the story was repeated to the king, there was nothing for him
to do but to pay the thief the twelve hundred florins.
Then the two partners set out again with their ill-gotten gains, which
they proceeded to divide into two equal shares; but the thief kept back
three of the florins that belonged to the liar’s half of the booty.
Shortly afterwards they each married, and settled down in homes of their
own with their wives. One day the liar discovered that he had been
done out of three florins by his partner, so he went to his house and
demanded them from him.
‘Come next Saturday, and I will give them to you,’ answered the thief.
But as he had no intention of giving the liar the money, when Saturday
morning came he stretched himself out stiff and stark upon the bed, and
told his wife she was to say he was dead. So the wife rubbed her eyes
with an onion, and when the liar appeared at the door, she met him in
tears, and told him that as her husband was dead he could not be paid
the three florins.
But the liar, who knew his partner’s tricks, instantly suspected the
truth, and said: ‘As he has not paid me, I will pay him out with three
good lashes of my riding whip.’
At these words the thief sprang to his feet, and, appearing at the door,
promised his partner that if he would return the following Saturday he
would pay him. So the liar went away satisfied with this promise.
But when Saturday morning came the thief got up early and hid himself
under a truss of hay in the hay-loft.
When the liar appeared to demand his three florins, the wife met him
with tears in her eyes, and told him that her husband was dead.
‘Where have you buried him?’ asked the liar.
‘In the hay-loft,’ answered the wife.
‘Then I will go there, and take away some hay in payment of his debt,’
said the liar. And proceeding to the hay-loft, he began to toss about
the hay with a pitchfork, prodding it into the trusses of hay, till, in
terror of his life, the thief crept out and promised his partner to pay
him the three florins on the following Saturday.
When the day came he got up at sunrise, and going down into the crypt of
a neighbouring chapel, stretched himself out quite still and stiff in an
old stone coffin. But the liar, who was quite as clever as his partner,
very soon bethought him of the crypt, and set out for the chapel,
confident that he would shortly discover the hiding-place of his friend.
He had just entered the crypt, and his eyes were not yet accustomed
to the darkness, when he heard the sound of whispering at the grated
windows. Listening intently, he overheard the plotting of a band of
robbers, who had brought their treasure to the crypt, meaning to hide
it there, while they set out on fresh adventures. All the time they were
speaking they were removing the bars from the window, and in another
minute they would all have entered the crypt, and discovered the liar.
Quick as thought he wound his mantle round him and placed himself,
standing stiff and erect, in a niche in the wall, so that in the dim
light he looked just like an old stone statue. As soon as the robbers
entered the crypt, they set about the work of dividing their treasure.
Now, there were twelve robbers, but by mistake the chief of the band
divided the gold into thirteen heaps. When he saw his mistake he said
they had not time to count it all over again, but that the thirteenth
heap should belong to whoever among them could strike off the head of
the old stone statue in the niche with one stroke. With these words he
took up an axe, and approached the niche where the liar was standing.
But, just as he had waved the axe over his head ready to strike, a voice
was heard from the stone coffin saying, in sepulchral tones: ‘Clear out
of this, or the dead will arise from their coffins, and the statues
will descend from the walls, and you will be driven out more dead than
alive.’ And with a bound the thief jumped out of his coffin and the
liar from his niche, and the robbers were so terrified that they ran
helter-skelter out of the crypt, leaving all their gold behind them, and
vowing that they would never put foot inside the haunted place again.
So the partners divided the gold between them, and carried it to their
homes; and history tells us no more about them.