“When three poor people come here, and each of them takes away two sackfuls of gold, I shall be delivered. I am bound to give all this gold away for nothing. Already I have outlived three generations of my kinsmen here.”
Then he bade him fetch two leather sacks from the other room and collect the gold into them, filling them up to the brim. He must keep it all for himself and must not tell any one what he had seen. The gamekeeper promised that he wouldn’t even tell his wife, Hátička, how he had got the money. So he filled the two sacks up to the brim, and the old man helped him to hoist them on to his shoulders and saw him out of the door. All the time he kept warning him to keep his mouth shut: “For what a woman knows all the world knows; that’s gospel truth, sure enough.”
So the gamekeeper left the castle, carrying those two sacks, and the man shook hands with him before he left. At the border of the forest, near a beech-tree, his wife, Háta, was standing looking for him. She ran up to him.
“Great Heavens, Florian! where have you been all this long time? I have been looking everywhere for you for three days.”
Now Florian was delighted that his wife had come to meet him, so he blurted out: “Hátička, wife, Count Bambus has given me these two sacks of gold pieces. Have a look here – see what heaps of the stuff there are!” and he let one of the sacks fall on the ground. But behold! instead of gold there were only rustling leaves in it. Then he remembered that he was not to say anything about it. He frowned, and his wife burst into tears; and they had to spend the rest of their life, until they died, in poverty just as before.
FRANCIS AND MARTIN
Once there was a father who had only one son, Francis by name. They had a farmhand called Martin. One day Martin and Francis were ploughing behind the barn. Francis’s mother brought their meal for them, and Francis said: “Well, mother, the old man must have a lot more money than he lets on to have. We are not in debt, and yet he’s always complaining that he hasn’t any money.”
“Well, my son, you see, he’s built that large building.”
Next day Francis and Martin were ploughing together again. They decided that they must get on the old man’s track to see whether he had any money, and where he hid it. Francis promised Martin that, if he could find it out, he would build a cottage for him at the back of the barn. So they agreed that Martin should stay away from church to try to find out if the farmer had any money hidden away at home.
When Sunday came, Francis went to church, but Martin kept on saying he wouldn’t go, until the farmer forced him to go. So he dressed for church and went out through the farm gate. But he came back on the other side, climbed over the fence, and hid himself in the barn. Soon after this the farmer came into the barn, carrying a basket full of coins. He dug a hole in the threshing-floor, put the money in it, and said: “Black Barabbas! preserve this money for me! Thou black bird! I put it in thy power!” Then he went and fetched a second basket and put it in the hole. But while he was gone to fetch the money, Martin slipped out of his hiding-place, took some of the money, and put it in his boots. Now, the farmer came back again with a third basket, and said once more: “Thou black bird! keep this money for me, and let nobody else have it, unless he gets it by ploughing this threshing-floor with three black goats!”
As he was saying these words, a blackbird was soaring above his head and crying out: “Master, what about the money in the boots?”
But the farmer did not understand what it meant, and so he went to look at his own boots, which were in the room. But he found no money there, so he was angry and said: “What, you devil! it’s rubbish you are talking. I’ve looked in my boots and there’s nothing there.” Then he buried the money, stamped down the threshing-floor hard again, and went out.
Martin went to the stable, and there he found Francis waiting for him to tell him what the parson’s sermon had been about that day, so that he would know what to say if the farmer asked him about it.
Soon afterwards the old man was taken ill and died. The two lads were pleased at this, for they hoped that they wouldn’t be long about getting the money. Martin got three black goats, he put them in the plough, and sent Francis to plough there. The wind began to blow violently, and the whole barn looked as though it were on fire. He was frightened and stopped ploughing, and immediately the whole barn was just as it had been before. So he went out of the barn and asked Martin to plough for him. Martin started, and, although the wind blew violently enough, he kept on ploughing until he got the money.
When Francis had the money, he began to build just as he wanted until he had spent it all. Then he gave Martin the sack.
Martin said sorrowfully: “This is the world’s gratitude.”
WITCHES AT THE CROSS
Though the witches used to be pretty lively in other places, they were fond of climbing up and down the cross that stands by the road to Malá Čermá (near Slaný). Joe Hilma heard tell of this, so he took his horse and off he rode to see. He took with him a piece of chalk which had been blessed, and made a circle with it. Then he went into the circle and waited till midnight. Then, sure enough, he saw the witches, a great swarm of them, climbing up and down the cross. They didn’t see him while this was going on, but when he rode out of the circle, off went the witches after him. He galloped home at full speed. When he rode into the yard they were close on his heels. They couldn’t go any farther, for they had no power to do it. I don’t know how it happened, but one of them flung a burning broom after him. The broom hit the door, and the door was burned. Joe had quite enough of seeing the witches.
THE WITCH AND THE HORSESHOES
Once there was a farmer’s wife – I can’t tell you which one – who was a witch. Now these folks used to have a feast every Eve of St. Philip and St. James. As soon as they began to burn the brooms she couldn’t rest: go she must. So she stripped her clothes off, and, standing under the chimney, she anointed herself with some ointment. When she had finished, she said: “Fly, but don’t touch anything.” And away she flew in the twinkling of an eye. Yes, that was just how it was.
But the farmhand was watching all this from the stables, and he watched carefully where she put the ointment. So he went in too, stripped his clothes off, and anointed himself. He said: “Fly, but don’t touch anything.” And off he flew till he came to the place where the witches were having their feast. Now, when he came there, the farmer’s wife knew him, and, to hide herself from him, she turned herself into a white horse. But he did not lose sight of the horse. He mounted it and went to the smith with it, and told him to shoe it. Next day the woman had four horseshoes on, two on her hands and two on her feet. And she had to stay like that always!
THE HAUNTED MILL
There was a haunted mill, and, dear me, what was it like! A rope-dancer came there with some monkeys. In the evening the Waternick came with a basketful of fishes. He made a fire and fried the fishes. Meanwhile the monkeys had been sitting behind the stove, but when the Nick put the fishes in the pan and was tasting whether they were done, the monkeys came from behind the stove, and one of them put its paw into the pan. The man smacked him over the paw and said: “Get away, pussy! You didn’t catch them, so don’t eat them.” And the monkey ran away.
After awhile comes another monkey and puts his paw in the pan. He smacked him too and said the same. But the rope-dancer had a bear, too, which was lying under the table all the time; and, when he heard the Waternick speak, he came from under the table, ran straight to the pan, and put his paw into it. The Waternick did the same to him as he had done to the monkeys. But the bear couldn’t stand that. He sprang upon the poor Waternick and gave him a good beating. The Waternick had to run off, leaving the fishes behind. He didn’t haunt the mill any more, and that’s how they got rid of him.