Some time later the king returned to the castle and saw that the prophecy had been fulfilled and that the good-luck child was wed to his daughter.
“How did this happen?” he asked. “My letter contained an altogether different command.”
Then the queen handed him the letter and told him to read for himself what it said. The king read it and saw that his letter had been swapped with another. He asked the youth what became of the letter he had entrusted to him, why he had brought another in its place.
“I have no idea,” said the boy. “It must have been swapped with another as I slept in the forest.”
Enraged, the king replied, “You won’t get off that easy. Whoever wants to have my daughter must first fetch me three golden hairs from the Devil’s own head in Hell. Bring me what I ask and you can keep my daughter.” With this the king hoped to be rid of him forever.
But the good-luck child replied, “Gladly will I go fetch the three golden hairs. I’m not afraid of the Devil.” Whereupon he took his leave and set out on his way.
The road led him to a great city, where the gatekeeper at the city gate asked him what trade he plied and what he knew.
“I know everything,” replied the good-luck child.
“Then you can do us a favor,” said the guard, “if you could tell us why our marketplace well which used to run deep with wine now no longer even gives us water.”
“That I will find out for you,” replied the youth. “Just wait till I return.”
Then he continued on his way and came to another city, in which the gatekeeper once again asked him what trade he plied and what he knew.
“I know everything,” he said.
“Then you can do us a favor and tell us why a tree in our town which used to bear golden apples now no longer even grows leaves.”
“That I will find out for you,” the youth replied. “Just wait till I return.”
Then he continued on his way and came to a great body of water that he was obliged to cross. The ferryman asked him what trade he plied and what he knew.
“I know everything,” he replied.
“Then you can do me a favor,” said the ferryman, “and tell me why I must always ferry back and forth and never be relieved of my duty.”
“That I will find out for you,” the youth replied. “Just wait till I return.”
Once he got to the other side of the body of water he found the gateway to Hell. It was black and sooty inside and the Devil was not home, but his grandmother sat there in an easy chair.
“What do you want?” she said to him, though she didn’t look mean at all.
“I would like to have three golden hairs from the Devil’s head,” he replied, “or else I can’t keep my wife.”
“That’s asking a lot,” she said. “When the Devil gets home and finds you here, things won’t go well for you, but I have pity on you. I’ll see if I can help.” She transformed him into an ant and said, “Crawl into the pleats of my skirt. You will be safe there.”
“Right,” he said, “but there are three things I’d still like to know: Why a well that once ran deep with wine has dried up and no longer even gives water; why a tree that once bore golden apples no longer even grows leaves; and why a ferryman has to keep ferrying back and forth and is never relieved of his duty.”
“Those are difficult questions,” she replied, “but just keep still, don’t budge, and listen to what the Devil says when I pluck out the three golden hairs.”
When night fell, the Devil came home. No sooner had he returned than he noticed that the air was not clean. “Something is not right,” he said. “I smell the scent of human flesh.” Then he searched every corner, but he couldn’t find anything.
His grandmother scolded him. “I just swept the place,” she said, “and made everything nice and tidy, and you have to go and make a mess again. You’ve always got the scent of human flesh in your nose! Sit down and eat your dinner.” Once he had eaten and drunk, he felt tired, lay his head in his grandmother’s lap, and asked her to delouse him a little. It didn’t take long before he fell fast asleep, whistling and snoring. Then the old woman grabbed a golden hair, tore it out, and lay it beside her.
“Ouch!” cried the Devil. “What’s the idea?”
“I had a troubled dream,” his grandmother replied, “so I grabbed you by the hair.”
“What did you dream?” asked the devil.
“I dreamed that a marketplace well that ordinarily ran deep with wine went dry and no longer even gave water. What do you suppose is the reason?”
“If only they knew!” the Devil replied. “There is a toad under a stone in the well. If they kill it, the wine will flow again.”
His grandmother went on plucking lice until he fell asleep again and snored so loudly the windows rattled. Then she tore out a second hair.
“Hey! What’s the idea?” cried the Devil in a rage.
“Don’t take it badly,” she replied. “I did it in my dream.”
“What did you dream this time?” he asked.
“I dreamed of a fruit tree standing in a kingdom, which used to bear golden apples but now won’t even grow a leaf. What do you suppose is the reason?”
“If only they knew!” the Devil replied. “A mouse is gnawing at the roots. If they kill the mouse, the tree will bear golden apples again, but if it keeps on gnawing, the tree will wither and die. But don’t bother me any more with your dreams. If you disturb my sleep again I’ll box your ears.”
His grandmother calmed him down and went back to picking lice until he fell back asleep and snored. Then she grabbed the third golden hair and tore it out.
The Devil jumped up, hollered, and was about to strike her, but she managed to calm him down again and said, “I can’t help it if I dream bad dreams!”
“What did you dream this time?” he asked, quite curious.
“I dreamed of a ferryman who complained that he had to keep ferrying back and forth and nobody ever took his place. What do you suppose is the reason?”
“That numskull!” replied the Devil. “If somebody comes by and wants to be ferried across, he’s got to hand the other man the pole, then the other is stuck ferrying and he is free to go.”
Once the grandmother had plucked out the three golden hairs and made the old Devil answer the three questions, she left him in peace and he slept until daybreak.
As soon as the Devil had departed, the old woman plucked the ant out of a pleat in her skirt and gave the good-luck child his human form back. “Here are your three golden hairs,” she said. “You heard for yourself what the Devil said in answer to your questions.”
“Yes,” he replied, “I heard it and will remember it.”
“Happy to have been of assistance,” she said. “So now you can continue on your way.”
He thanked the old woman for her help in a pinch, left Hell behind, and was glad that everything had worked out so well. Once he came to the ferryman, it was time to pass on the promised reply. “First ferry me across,” said the good-luck child, “then I’ll tell you how you can save yourself.” And once he’d reached the far shore, he gave the ferryman the Devil’s advice: “The next time somebody comes by and asks to be ferried across, just hand him the pole.”
Then he kept on walking and came to the city with the sterile tree, where the gatekeeper had also sought a reply. He told the gatekeeper the Devil’s advice: “Kill the mouse that’s gnawing at the roots, and the tree will bear golden apples again.” The gatekeeper thanked him and as a reward gave him two donkeys loaded with gold to follow him on his way.
Finally he came to the city with the well that had run dry. Then he told the guard what the Devil had said: “There’s a toad in the well hiding under a stone. Find it and kill it and the well will once again bubble with wine.” The guard thanked him and gave him another two donkeys loaded with gold.
At last the good-luck child got home to his wife, who rejoiced to see him again and to hear that everything had
gone well. He brought the king the Devil’s three golden hairs he had asked for, and when the king saw the four donkeys loaded with gold he was glad and said, “Now that all my demands have been fulfilled you can keep my daughter. But, my dear son-in-law, do tell me where you got all that gold. It’s quite a treasure trove!”
“I crossed a river,” the good-luck child replied, “and that’s where I picked it up. The shoreline on the other side is strewn with gold instead of sand.”
“Can I get myself some too?” asked the king with greedy glee.
“As much as you want,” the lad replied. “There’s a ferryman by the river. Just ask him to carry you across, and you can fill your bags on the other side.”
The avaricious king went as fast as he could, and when he came to the river he waved to the ferryman to take him across. The ferryman came and asked him to climb in, and as soon as they reached the far shore he passed him the pole and leapt ashore. And from then on the king had to keep ferrying back and forth for his sins.
“Is he still at it?”
“What do you think? Who would have been fool enough to let him pass them the pole?”
THE BRAVE LITTLE TAILOR
One summer morning a little tailor sat contented at his table by the window, sewing up a storm. Then a peasant woman came walking down the street and called out, “Good jam for sale! Good jam for sale!”
The little tailor liked the sound of it, so he poked his wisp of a head out the window and called to her: “Up here, good woman, you can load it off on me.”
The woman lugged her heavy basket the three flights up to the tailor’s place and unpacked all her pots before him. He looked them over, picked them up, practically planted his nose in the sweet stuff, and finally said, “The jam looks delicious. Dish me out four ounces, good woman, and if it comes to a quarter pound, I don’t mind.” The woman, who had hoped to sell him a considerable amount, gave him what he asked for but went away grim-faced and grumpy. “Let this jam be blessed by God,” prayed the tailor, “and let it give me force and strength,” whereupon he proceeded to fetch a loaf of bread from the cupboard, cut himself a slice, and spread it with the jam. “It will sweeten my day,” he said, “but first let me finish sewing my jacket before I take a bite.”
So he lay the slice of bread beside him, kept on sewing, and feeling giddy with joy, sewed larger and larger stitches. Meanwhile the scent of the sweet jam wafted up the wall, where flies gathered in ever greater number, and lured below, swarms of them pounced on it. “Hey, who invited you to the table?” said the tailor and swished away his uninvited guests. But the flies, who understood no German, would not let themselves be dissuaded from dining, returning in ever greater numbers. Finally the tailor was, as they say, at his wit’s end, so he fetched a flys watter from a drawer, and muttering “Here’s your just dessert!” came down with a merciless swat. When he lifted the swatter and counted his quarry, no less than seven lay there with outstretched legs. “Well, will you get a load of that!” he said, admiring his prowess. “I’m gonna let the whole town know!” So the little tailor hastily cut himself a belt, and stitched and embroidered a logo on the leather in big letters: “Seven with one blow!” “Never mind the city!” he cheered himself on, “I’m going to let the whole world know!” And his heart beat for joy in his breast like a little lamb’s tail.
The tailor bound the belt around his waist and decided to go out into the world, for he felt that his workshop was just too small for such prowess as his. Before leaving, he looked around to see if there was anything he might take along, but all he found was an old hunk of cheese, which he thought might come in handy. Outside, in front of his door, he noticed a bird caught in a bush, and he packed it along with the cheese.
Whereupon he bravely sallied forth, and being light and nimble, he felt no fatigue. The path led him up a mountain, and when he reached the summit there sat a mighty giant taking his ease. Feeling feisty, the little tailor went right up to him, greeted him, and said, “Splendid day, isn’t it, my friend, to sit around surveying the big, wide world! I’ve just set out to try my luck. Would you like to come along?”
The giant eyed the tailor with disdain and said, “You worm! You miserable wretch!”
“That does it!” replied the little tailor, then unbuttoned his jacket and showed the giant his belt. “You can read with your own eyes what kind of stuff I’m made of.”
The giant read “Seven with one blow,” figured it meant seven men felled by the tailor, and felt a modicum of respect for the little fellow. Still, he wanted to put him to the test, and taking a stone in hand, pressed it hard until the water dripped out. “Do as I did,” said the giant, “if you’re strong enough.”
“Is that all?” said the tailor. “That’s child’s play!” He shrugged, reached in his pocket, fetched out the hunk of soft cheese, and pressed it until the whey dripped out. “Well what do you think of that!”
The giant was speechless, unable to believe his eyes. Then he picked up a stone and hurled it so high you could hardly still see it. “All right, little munchkin, match that!”
“Not bad,” said the tailor, “but the stone fell back down to earth again. I’ll hurl one that’ll never fall down.” He reached into his pocket, grabbed the bird, and tossed it into the air. Happy to have found its freedom again, the bird took flight and didn’t come back. “What do you think of that, pal!” said the tailor.
“You can throw all right,” replied the giant, “but let’s see what you can lift.” So he led the tailor to a mighty oak tree felled and lying flat on the ground. “If you’ve got the muscle, help me carry the tree out of the forest.”
“Gladly,” replied the little man. “You take the trunk on your shoulders, and I’ll carry the branches and all the leaves, that’s the most cumbersome part.”
The giant lifted the trunk onto his shoulders, but the tailor sat himself on a branch, and being unable to turn around, the giant had to carry the entire tree and the tailor on top of it. Meanwhile, in cheerful spirits, the tailor made merry in back, whistling the ditty “Three tailors rode out through the gate . . .” as if carrying the tree were a matter of child’s play. After hauling the heavy load for a while, the giant was beat and called out, “Listen, I’ve got to let the tree drop.” The tailor leapt nimbly to the ground, grabbed hold of the branches with both his hands, as though he’d been carrying it, and said to the giant, “You’re such a big fellow and can’t even hold up your own end.”
They continued on their way together, and when they passed a cherry tree, the giant gripped the top of the tree where the ripest cherries hung, bent it down, and beckoned the tailor to grab hold and eat of them. But the little tailor was much too weak to hold down the tree, and when the giant let go, the tree flew back up and catapulted the tailor head over heels into the air. As soon as he dropped down again without a scratch, the giant said, “Where’s you muscle, man? Have you not strength enough to hold down that little riding crop?”
“It’s not for lack of strength,” replied the little tailor. “Do you really think a man who felled seven with one blow couldn’t attend to such a trifle? I leapt over the tree because the hunters down there in the bushes are shooting. Do as I did, if you dare.”
The giant gave it a try, but unable to clear the top of the tree, he got caught in the branches, so that in this, too, the tailor had the upper hand.
Then the giant said, “If you’re such a brave buck, come with me to our cave and spend the night with us.” The little tailor agreed and followed him. When they reached the cave they found other giants seated by the fire, and each had a roast sheep in hand and ate of it. The little tailor looked around and thought, It’s a lot roomier here than in my workshop. The giant pointed to a bed and said the little tailor could rest his weary bones in it, but the bed was too big for the little tailor, so he didn’t lay himself down in it but crept into a corner. Come midnight, the giant thought the little tailor must be fast asleep, so he got up, took a big iron bar, a
nd struck the bed with such a heavy blow he thought for sure he had flattened that grasshopper. At the crack of dawn the giants went into the forest and completely forgot about the tailor, but all of a sudden the little man came cheerfully and defiantly walking up to them. The giants trembled, afraid he would kill them all, and ran for their lives.
The tailor continued on his way, following the tip of his nose. After walking a long while he came to the courtyard of a royal palace, and because he was tired he lay himself down in the grass and fell asleep. As he slept, people came by, looked him over from every angle, and read the slogan on his belt: “Seven with one blow.”
“Forsooth,” they said, “what does such a great warrior want among us here in peacetime? He must be a mighty fighter.” So they went and reported his presence to the king, thinking that if war should break out he would surely be an important and valuable ally to be retained at any price. The king approved of such advice, and sent one of his courtiers to the little tailor to wait for him to wake up and propose that he serve the king’s force. The emissary stood by the sleeper, waited until he stretched his limbs and batted his eyes open, whereupon he made his offer.
“That is precisely why I came,” the tailor replied. “I am ready and willing to serve the king.” So he was received with great honors and assigned a splendid apartment.
The gentlemen of the army, however, were wary of the little tailor and wished him a thousand miles away. “What will come of it?” they grumbled among themselves. “If we get into a spat with him and he lashes out, seven of us will fall with one blow. We mere mortals won’t survive it.” So they came to a decision. They all went to see the king and asked him to release them from service. “We just haven’t got it in us,” they said, “to measure up against a man who can fell seven with one blow.”