The Master-Thief
An old Man and his Wife were many years ago sitting one day before their miserable hut, resting for a while from their work. All at once a handsome carriage, drawn by four black steeds, drew up at the door, and out of it stepped a well-dressed Man. The Peasant got up and asked the seeming Lord what he wanted, and how he could serve him. The stranger, offering his hand to the Peasant, said, “I desire nothing more than to enjoy a homely repast with you. Cook some potatoes in your usual fashion, and when they are ready I will sit down at your table and eat them.”
The Peasant laughed, and replied, “You are some Count, or Prince, or perhaps some Arch-Duke; distinguished lords like you have often such fancies; but your will shall be done.”
The Peasant’s Wife thereupon went into the kitchen, and began to wash the potatoes, peel them, and make them into dumplings, as they were used to prepare them. While she thus proceeded with her work, the Peasant invited the Lord to come and look round his garden, which yet yielded a little produce. Now, in the garden he had dug holes in order to set trees.
“Have you no children to help you in your work?” asked the Stranger.
“No!” replied the Peasant; “but I once had a son, but he wandered out in the world a long while ago. He was a wild youth, and very spirited, and so, instead of learning anything, he was always up to some tricks; at last he ran away from me, and I have heard nothing of him since.”
As the Man spoke he took a young tree, and placing it in one of the holes, planted a pole beside it. Then as he filled in the soil, and pressed it down, he tied the stem at the bottom, middle, and top to the pole, with a straw band.
“But tell me,” suddenly said the Stranger, “why you do not bind the crooked, knotty stem, in yon corner, which is almost bent to the ground, likewise to a pole that it may grow straight?”
“My Lord,” replied the Peasant, with a laugh, “you talk as you know; one may easily see that you understand nothing of gardening. Yon tree is old and knotted by age, and nobody could make it straight again. Trees should be trained while they are young.” “So it is with your son,” said the Stranger; “had you trained him when he was young in right ways, he would not have run away; now, he will also grow hardened and knotted.”
“Truly, it is long since he went away,” replied the old Man, “but perhaps he is changed.”
“Would you know him again if he came back?” asked the Stranger abruptly.
“Not by his face, indeed,” replied the Peasant; “but he has a mark upon him, a mole upon his shoulder as large as a bean.”
At these words the Stranger drew off his coat, and, baring his shoulder, showed the father the mole.
“You are indeed my son,” said the old Man, and all his love returned for his child; “but yet, how can you be my son; you have become a great lord, rolling in riches and abundance; by what path have you arrived at this?”
“Alas! my Father,” replied the Son, “the young tree was bound to no pole, and grew crooked; now is it too old to become straight again. How have I gained this, you ask; I have been a Thief. But do not be frightened; I am a Master-Thief. Neither locks nor bolts avail against me; whatever I wish for is mine. Think not that I steal like a common thief; no, I only take from the abundance of the rich. The poor are safe, for I rather give to them than take from them. So also I touch not what I can obtain without craft or skill.”
“Alas! my son,” replied the old Man, “I can have no pleasure in this; a thief is a thief, whether clever or not, and I warn you comes not to any good end.” So saying he led him to his Mother, and when she heard that he was her son she wept for joy, but when she was also told that he had become a thief, two rivers, as it were, of tears flowed from her eyes. At length she said, “He is still my son, although become a Master-Thief, and mine eyes have seen him once more.”
The three then sat down to table, and he ate again with his parents the coarse fare which he had not tasted for so long. During the meal the old Peasant said to his son, “If our master the Count of the castle above there, knew who you were, and what you were doing, he would not, methinks, take you in his arms and rock you, as he once did at your christening; he would rather cause you to be hung on the gallows.”
“Do not be afraid, my dear Father, he will do nothing to me; I understand my trade too well. To-day even I will go to him.”
So when it was evening the Master-Thief got into his carriage and drove to the castle, where the Count received him with courtesy, because he took him for some noble personage. But when the stranger disclosed his real character, the Count turned pale, and sat in silence for some time. At last he said, “Since you are my godson I will forego justice for mercy, and show forbearance to you. But because you profess to be a Master-Thief, I will put your art to the proof, and if then you fail, you must keep your wedding with the hangman’s daughter, and the cawing of the rooks shall be the music to celebrate it.”
“My lord Count,” replied the Master-Thief, “think of three as difficult tasks as you can, and if I do not fulfill my pretensions do with me as you will.”
The Count considered for some minutes, and then said, “For the first task you shall steal out of its stable my favourite horse; for the second, you shall take away from my wife and me, when we are asleep, the counterpane under which we lie, without our knowledge, and also the ring off my wife’s finger. For the third and last task, you shall steal out of the church the parson and the clerk. Now mark all this well, for your neck depends upon its due performance.”
Thereupon the Master-Thief went to the nearest town and there purchased the old clothes of a country-wife and put them on. Then he dyed his face a deep brown, and fashioned wrinkles on it, so that nobody could have recognised him. Lastly, he filled a small cask with old Hungary wine, in which he mixed a powerful sleeping drug. Then, laying the cask in a basket which he carried upon his shoulder, he walked with wavering and tottering steps to the castle of the Count. It was quite dark when he arrived there, and so, sitting down upon a stone in the courtyard, he began to cough like an asthmatic old woman, and rubbed his hands together as if they were cold. Now before the door of the stables Soldiers were lying round a fire, and one of them remarking the old Woman called to her to come nearer and warm herself. The seeming old Woman trotted up to the group, and taking her basket from her head, sat down near them. “What have you got in your basket, old Woman?” cried one. “A good taste of wine,” she replied; “I maintain myself by trading with it; for some money and your fair words I will give you a glassful.” “Come along, then,” returned the Soldier; but as soon as he drank what was given him, he said, “Ah! this wine is very good, I would rather have two glasses than one!” and so he took a second glass, and then his comrades followed his example.
“Holloa, there!” exclaimed one of the Soldiers, to another inside in the stable, “Here is an old Woman with some wine so good, that it will warm your chest more than all the fire.” As he spoke she carried her cask into the stable, and saw there three Soldiers; one of whom sat on the saddled horse. Another had the bridle in his hand, and a third held on by the tail. The old Woman served out to them the wine as long as it lasted, and then its effects began to show themselves. He who held the bridle let it drop from his hand, and sinking to the ground soon began to snore; the other let go the tail and fell asleep, snoring louder than the other; and the soldier who was sitting on the horse bent his head upon its neck, and so fell asleep, and snored like the noise of a smith’s bellows. The Soldiers outside, also, had long before fallen asleep, and were lying motionless as stones round their fire. When the Master-Thief saw himself so far favoured, he gave to him who had held the bridle a rope in his hand, and to the other who had held the tail a wisp of straw; but what to do with him who still sat on the horse’s back puzzled him. He could not throw him off, for that would have awakened him, and he would have called for help, so he was obliged to adopt a stratagem. He unbuckled the saddle-girths, and knotted fast to the saddle a couple of ropes, which passed through rings in the wall. This done he drew the sleeping rider, saddle and all, up in the air, and then made the ropes secure to the posts of the stable. He next unchained the horse, but before he led him over the stone floor of the yard, he wrapped his hoofs round with old rags, so that they might not make any noise which could awaken the watchers. Then he led his prize out cautiously, and swinging himself upon its back rode off in haste.
As soon as day broke the Master-Thief returned to the castle, mounted on the stolen steed. The Count was up already, and looking out of his window.
“Good morning, sir Count,” said the Thief; “here is your horse, which I have luckily taken from its stable. Look around and see your soldiers lying in the yard fast asleep; and if you go into the stable you will find them equally well occupied there.”
The Count was forced to laugh, and said, “Well, for once you have succeeded; but this second time you will not come off so easily. And I warn you, if you meet me as a Thief, I shall treat you as a Thief.”
By-and-by night came, and the Countess went to bed, with her wedding-ring held fast in her closed hand. “All the doors are locked and bolted,” said the Count, “and I shall keep awake and watch for this Thief, that, if he makes his appearance at the window I may shoot him.”
The Master-Thief, however, went in the dark to the gallows, and, cutting down from the rope a poor criminal who had been hung there that day, carried him on his back to the castle. There he placed a ladder up to the sleeping-chamber of the Count, and, hoisting the dead man upon his shoulders, began to mount. As soon as he had got so high that the head of the dead man was on a level with the window, the Count, concealed by the curtain, pointed a pistol at it and fired. Immediately the Master-Thief pitched the corpse over, and then rapidly descending the ladder, concealed himself in a corner. The night was bright, with a clear moonshine, and the Master-Thief plainly saw the Count descend the ladder, and bear the dead man away into the garden, where he began to dig a hole in which to bury him. “Now is the lucky moment!” said the Thief to himself; and slipping from his hiding-place, he ran up the ladder, and entered the sleeping-room. “Dear wife,” he began, imitating the Count’s voice, “the Thief is dead, but he is nevertheless my godson, and more of a rogue than a criminal; I do not wish, therefore, to put his family to shame, for I pity his poor parents. I wish, therefore, before daybreak, to bury him in the garden, that the affair may be kept quiet. Give me the bed-covering, that I may wrap his body in it and bury him decently.”
The Countess gave him the counterpane readily, and as she did so, the Thief continued, “Do you know I have a fit of magnanimity; give me your ring; since this unfortunate fellow has perilled his life for it, I will bury it with him.”
The Countess did not wish to disoblige the Count, and so, drawing off her ring, though unwillingly, she handed it to him. Thereupon the Thief made off with both his prizes, and luckily reached his home before the Count had finished his grave-digging.
You may fancy what a long face the Count pulled the next morning when the Master-Thief brought him the bed-covering and the ring. “Are you a wizard?” he said to him: “who has fetched you out of the grave, in which I myself laid you, and who has brought you to life again?”
“You did not bury me,” replied the Thief, “but a poor criminal from the gallows;” and then he related circumstantially all that had occurred, so that the Count was compelled to believe that he was a clever and crafty fellow.
“But your tasks are not ended yet,” said the Count; “you have still the third to do, and if you do not manage that all your former work will be useless.”
The Master-Thief laughed, but made no answer; and when night came he went to the village-church with a long sack on his back, a bundle under his arm, and a lantern in his hand. In the sack he had some crabs, and in the bundle some short wax-lights. When he got into the church-yard he stopped and took a crab from his sack, and fixing one of his wax-lights upon its back he placed it on the ground and made it crawl about. Then he took ont a second, and a third, and so on, till he had emptied the sack. After that he put on a long black cloak, like a monk’s gown, and fastened a grey beard with wax to his chin. Then, being thus completely disguised, he took the sack in which the crabs had been, and, going into the church, proceeded up the chancel. At the same moment the steeple-clock struck twelve, and as soon as the last stroke had rung, the Master-Thief began to cry with a clear, loud voice, “Hear all you sinners! hear, hear! the end of the world is come, the eternal day is near; hear, hear! Whoever will go to Heaven with me, let him creep into this sack. I am Peter, who opens and shuts the gate of Heaven. See out there in the church-yard the dead wandering about, collecting their bones together. Come, come, come, and creep into the sack, for the world passes away.”
His words resounded through the whole village; but the Parson and Clerk, who lived close to the church, first understood what he said; and when they perceived the lights wandering about in the church-yard, they believed that something uncommon was happening, and went into the church. They listened for a while to the preacher; and at length the Clerk nudged the Parson, and said to him, “It would not be a bad plan if we made use of this opportunity before the dawning of the eternal day, to get to Heaven in an easy way.”
“Oh, certainly!” replied the Parson, “that is exactly what I think; if you desire it, we will forthwith enter on the journey.”
“Yes!” said the Clerk; “but you have the precedence, Mr. Parson; I will follow you.”
So the Parson mounted the chancel steps, and crept into the sack which the Master-Thief held open, closely followed by the Clerk. Immediately the Thief drew the neck of the sack tight, and, swinging it round, dragged it down the steps, and so often as the heads of the poor fellows in it knocked against the floor, he cried to them, “Ah, now we are going over the mountains!” When they were out of the church he dragged them in the same manner through the village, and called the puddles which the sack went into “the clouds.” By-and-by they came to the castle, and as he dragged the sack up the steps he named them as those which led to the gate of Heaven, and said he, “We shall soon be in the entrance-court now.” As soon as he got to the top, he pushed the sack into the dove-cote; and when the doves fluttered about he told the Parson and Clerk to listen to the angels fluttering their wings. Then he pushed the bolt to and went away.
The next morning the Master-Thief presented himself before the Count, and told him that he had performed the third task, and drawn the Parson and Clerk out of the church. “Where have you left them then?” asked the Count.
“They are lying in a sack in the dove-cote,” said the Thief, “and fancy themselves in Heaven.”
The Count went himself, and saw that the Thief had spoken the truth; but he freed the two poor men from their imprisonment. After he had done so, he said to the Thief, “You are indeed an arch-thief, and have won your wager. For this time you may escape with a whole skin, but take care to keep away from my provinces; for if you venture again into my power you shall be elevated on the gallows.”
The Master-Thief then took his leave; and after he had said good-bye to his parents, he went away to a distant country, and nobody has seen or heard of him since.
