The Master-Thief
One day an old man and his wife were sitting in
front of a miserable house resting a while from their work. Suddenly a splendid carriage
with four black horses came driving up, and a richly-dressed man descended from it. The
peasant stood up, went to the great man, and asked what he wanted, and in what way he
could serve him. The stranger stretched out his hand to the old man, and said, I want
nothing but to enjoy for once a country dish, cook me some potatoes, in the way you always
have them, and then I will sit down at your table and eat them with pleasure. The peasant
smiled and said, you are a count or a prince, or perhaps even a duke, noble gentlemen
often have such fancies, but you shall have your wish. The wife then went into the kitchen
and began to wash and rub the potatoes, and to make them into balls, as they are eaten by
the country-folks. Whilst she was busy with this work, the peasant said to the stranger,
come into my garden with me for a while, I have still something to do there. He had dug
some holes in the garden, and now wanted to plant trees in them. Have you no children,
asked the stranger, who could help you with your work. No, answered the peasant, I had a
son, it is true, but it is long since he went out into the world. He was a ne'er-do-well,
clever and knowing, but he would learn nothing and was full of bad tricks. At last he ran
away from me, and since then I have heard nothing of him. The old man took a young tree,
put it in a hole, drove in a post beside it, and when he had shovelled in some earth and
had trampled it firmly down, he tied the stem of the tree above, below, and in the middle,
fast to the post by a rope of straw. But tell me, said the stranger, why you don't tie
that crooked knotted tree, which is lying in the corner there, bent down almost to the
ground, to a post also that it may grow straight, as well as these. The old man smiled and
said, sir, you speak according to your knowledge, it is easy to see that you are not
familiar with gardening. That tree there is old, and mis-shapen, no one can make it
straight now. Trees must be trained while they are young. That is how it was with your
son, said the stranger, if you had trained him while he was still young, he would not have
run away. Now he too must have grown hard and mis-shapen. Truly it is a long time since he
went away, replied the old man, he must have changed. Would you know him again if he were
to come to you, asked the stranger. Hardly by his face, replied the peasant, but he has a
mark about him, a birth-mark on his shoulder, that looks like a bean. When he had said
that the stranger pulled off his coat, bared his shoulder, and showed the peasant the
bean. Good God, cried the old man, you are really my son, and love for his child stirred
in his heart. But, he added, how can you be my son, you have become a great lord and live
in wealth and luxury. How have you contrived to do that. Ah, father, answered the son, the
young tree was bound to no post and has grown crooked. Now it is too old, it will never be
straight again. How have I come by all this. I have become a thief, but do not be alarmed,
I am a master-thief. For me there are neither locks nor bolts, whatsoever I desire is
mine. Do not imagine that I steal like a common thief, I only take some of the superfluity
of the rich. Poor people are safe, I would rather give to them than take anything from
them. It is the same with anything which I can have without trouble, cunning, and
dexterity - I never touch it. Alas, my son, said the father, it still does not please me,
a thief is still a thief, I tell you it will end badly. He took him to his mother, and
when she heard that was her son, she wept for joy, but when he told her that he had become
a master-thief, two streams flowed down over her face. At length she said, even if he has
become a thief, he is still my son, and my eyes have beheld him once more. They sat down
to table, and once again he ate with his parents the wretched food which he had not eaten
for so long. The father said, if our lord, the count up there in the castle, learns who
you are, and what trade you follow, he will not take you in his arms and cradle you in
them as he did when he held you at the font, but will cause you to swing from a halter. Be
easy, father, he will do me no harm, for I understand my trade. I will go to him myself
this very day. When evening drew near, the master-thief seated himself in his carriage,
and drove to the castle. The count received him civilly, for he took him for a
distinguished man. When, however, the stranger made himself known, the count turned pale
and was quite silent for some time. At length he said, you are my godson, and on that
account mercy shall take the place of justice, and I will deal leniently with you. Since
you pride yourself on being a master-thief, I will put your art to the proof, but if you
do not stand the test, you must marry the rope-maker's daughter, and the croaking of the
raven must be your music on the occasion. Lord count, answered the master-thief, think of
three things, as difficult as you like, and if I do not perform your tasks, do with me
what you will. The count reflected for some minutes, and then said, well, then, in the
first place, you shall steal the horse I keep for my own riding, out of the stable. In the
next, you shall steal the sheet from beneath the bodies of my wife and myself when we are
asleep, without our observing it, and the wedding-ring of my wife as well. Thirdly and
lastly, you shall steal away out of the church, the parson and clerk. Mark what I am
saying, for your life depends on it. The master-thief went to the nearest town, there he
bought the clothes of an old peasant woman, and put them on. Then he stained his face
brown, and painted wrinkles on it as well, so that no one could have recognized him. Then
he filled a small cask with old hungary wine in which was mixed a powerful sleeping-drink.
He put the cask in a basket, which he took on his back, and walked with slow and tottering
steps to the count's castle. It was already dark when he arrived. He sat down on a stone
in the court-yard and began to cough, like an asthmatic old woman, and to rub his hands as
if he were cold. In front of the door of the stable some soldiers were lying round a fire,
one of them observed the woman, and called out to her, come nearer, old mother, and warm
yourself beside us. After all, you have no bed for the night, and must take one where you
can find it. The old woman tottered up to them, begged them to lift the basket from her
back, and sat down beside them at the fire. What have you got in your little cask, old
hag, asked one. A good mouthful of wine, she answered. I live by trade, for money and fair
words I am quite ready to let you have a glass. Let us have it here, then, said the
soldier, and when he had tasted one glass he said, when wine is good, I like another
glass, and had another poured out for himself, and the rest followed his example. Hallo,
comrades, cried one of them to those who were in the stable, here is an old girl who has
wine that is as old as herself, take a draught, it will warm your stomachs far better than
our fire. The old woman carried her cask into the stable. One of the soldiers had seated
himself on the saddled riding-horse, another held its bridle in his hand, a third had laid
hold of its tail. She poured out as much as they wanted until the spring ran dry. It was
not long before the bridle fell from the hand of the one, and he fell down and began to
snore, the other left hold of the tail, lay down and snored still louder. The one who was
sitting in the saddle, did remain sitting, but bent his head down almost to the horse's
neck, and slept and blew with his mouth like the bellows of a forge. The soldiers outside
had already been asleep for a long time, and were lying on the ground motionless, as if
dead. When the master-thief saw that he had succeeded, he gave the first a rope in his
hand instead of the bridle, and the other who had been holding the tail, a wisp of straw,
but what was he to do with the one who was sitting on the horse's back. He did not want to
throw him down, for he might have awakened and have uttered a cry. He had a good idea, he
unbuckled the girths of the saddle, tied a couple of ropes which were hanging to a ring on
the wall fast to the saddle, and drew the sleeping rider up into the air on it, then he
twisted the rope round the posts, and made it fast. He soon unloosed the horse from the
chain, but if he had ridden over the stony pavement of the yard they would have heard the
noise in the castle. So he wrapped the horse's hoofs in old rags, led him carefully out,
leapt upon him, and galloped off. When day broke, the master galloped to the castle on the
stolen horse. The count had just got up, and was looking out of the window. Good morning,
sir count, he cried to him, here is the horse, which I have got safely out of the stable.
Just look, how beautifully your soldiers are lying there sleeping, and if you will but go
into the stable, you will see how comfortable your watchers have made it for themselves.
The count could not help laughing. Then he said, for once you have succeeded, but things
won't go so well the second time, and I warn you that if you come before me as a thief, I
will handle you as I would a thief. When the countess went to bed that night, she closed
her hand with the wedding-ring tightly together, and the count said, all the doors are
locked and bolted, I will keep awake and wait for the thief, but if he gets in by the
window, I will shoot him. The master-thief, however, went in the dark to the gallows, cut
a poor sinner who was hanging there down from the halter, and carried him on his back to
the castle. Then he set a ladder up to the bedroom, put the dead body on his shoulders,
and began to climb up. When he had got so high that the head of the dead man showed at the
window, the count, who was watching in his bed, fired a pistol at him, and immediately the
master let the poor sinner fall down, descended the ladder, and hid himself in one corner.
The night was sufficiently lighted by the moon, for the master to see distinctly how the
count got out of the window on to the ladder, came down, carried the dead body into the
garden, and began to dig a hole in which to lay it. Now, thought the thief, the favorable
moment has come, stole nimbly out of his corner, and climbed up the ladder straight into
the countess's bedroom. Dear wife, he began in the count's voice, the thief is dead, but,
after all, he is my godson, and has been more of a scape-grace than a villain. I will not
put him to open shame, besides, I am sorry for the parents. I will bury him myself before
daybreak in the garden, that the thing may not be known. So give me the sheet, I will wrap
up the body in it, and not bury him like a dog. The countess gave him the sheet. I tell
you what, continued the thief, I have a fit of magnanimity, give me the ring too, - the
unhappy man risked his life for it, so he may take it with him into his grave. She would
not gainsay the count, and although she did it unwillingly she drew the ring from her
finger, and gave it to him. The thief made off with both these things, and reached home
safely before the count in the garden had finished his work of burying. What a long face
the count did pull when the master came next morning, and brought him the sheet and the
ring. Are you a wizard, said he, who has fetched you out of the grave in which I myself
laid you, and brought you to life again. You did not bury me, said the thief, but the poor
sinner on the gallows, and he told him exactly how everything had happened, and the count
was forced to own to him that he was a clever, crafty thief. But you have not reached the
end yet, he added, you have still to perform the third task, and if you do not succeed in
that, all is of no use. The master smiled and returned no answer. When night had fallen he
went with a long sack on his back, a bundle under his arms, and a lantern in his hand to
the village church. In the sack he had some crabs, and in the bundle short wax-candles. He
sat down in the churchyard, took out a crab, and stuck a wax-candle on his back. Then he
lighted the little light, put the crab on the ground, and let it creep about. He took a
second out of the sack, and treated it in the same way, and so on until the last was out
of the sack. Hereupon he put on a long black garment that looked like a monk's cowl, and
stuck a gray beard on his chin. When at last he was quite unrecognizable, he took the sack
in which the crabs had been, went into the church, and ascended the pulpit. The clock in
the tower was just striking twelve, when the last stroke had sounded, he cried with a loud
and piercing voice, hearken, sinful men, the end of all things has come. The last day is
at hand. Hearken. Hearken. Whosoever wishes to go to heaven with me must creep into the
sack. I am peter, who opens and shuts the gate of heaven. Behold how the dead outside
there in the chuchyard are wandering about collecting their bones. Come, come, and creep
into the sack, the world is about to be destroyed. The cry echoed through the whole
village. The parson and clerk who lived nearest to the church, heard it first, and when
they saw the lights which were moving about the churchyard, they observed that something
unusual was going on, and went into the church. They listened to the sermon for a while,
and then the clerk nudged the parson and said, it would not be amiss if we were to use the
opportunity together, and before the dawning of the last day, find an easy way of getting
to heaven. To tell the truth, answered the parson, that is what I myself have been
thinking, so if you are inclined, we will set out on our way. Yes, answered the clerk, but
you, the pastor, have the precedence, I will follow. So the parson went first, and
ascended the pulpit where the master opened his sack. The parson crept in first, and then
the clerk. The master immediately tied up the sack tightly, seized it by the middle, and
dragged it down the pulpit-steps, and whenever the heads of the two fools bumped against
the steps, he cried, we are going over the mountains. Then he drew them through the
village in the same way, and when they were passing through puddles, he cried, now we are
going through wet clouds. And when at last he was dragging them up the steps of the
castle, he cried, now we are on the steps of heaven, and will soon be in the outer court.
When he had got to the top, he pushed the sack into the pigeon-house, and when the pigeons
fluttered about, he said, hark how glad the angels are, and how they are flapping their
wings. Then he bolted the door upon them, and went away. Next morning he went to the
count, and told him that he had performed the third task also, and had carried the parson
and clerk out of the church. Where have you left them, asked the Lord. They are lying
upstairs in a sack in the pigeon-house, and imagine that they are in heaven. The count
went up himself, and convinced himself that the master had told the truth. When he had
delivered the parson and clerk from their captivity, he said, you are an arch-thief, and
have won your wager. For once you escape with a whole skin, but see that you leave my
land, for if ever you set foot on it again, you may count on your elevation to the
gallows. The arch-thief took leave of his parents, once more went forth into the wide
world, and no one has ever heard of him since.
--The End-- |
