by Jane Yolen
“Now,” though the master thief, “the favorable moment has come.” He 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 scapegrace 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 thief 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 thief 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 grey 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 churchyard 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 the clerk, who lived nearest to the church, heard it first, and when they saw the lights 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 thief opened his sack. The parson crept in first, and then the clerk. The thief 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 thief 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.
PEIK
Norway
There was once on a time a man and a woman; they had a son and a daughter who were twins, and they were so like each other that you could not tell the one from the other, except by their clothes.
The boy they called Peik. He was of little use on the farm while the parents lived, for he did not care for anything else but playing tricks upon people, and he was so full of tricks and pranks that no one was left in peace for him. But when the parents died he grew worse and worse—he would not do anything; he only did his best to make an end of what there was left after them, and to quarrel with everybody. The sister worked and toiled all she could, but it was of little help, and so she told him how wrong it was that he would not do anything useful, and asked him:
“What do you think we shall live upon, when you have finished everything?”
“Oh, I’ll go and play a trick upon somebody,” said Peik.
“Yes, you are always ready and willing when you are bent upon that,” said his sister.
“Well, I’ll try my best,” said Peik.
So when he had made an end of everything, and there was nothing more in the house, he set out on his journey, and walked and walked till he came to the king’s palace.
The king was standing at the door, and when he saw the lad he said, “Where are you off to today, Peik?”
“Oh, I am off to see if I cannot play a trick upon somebody,” said Peik.
“Can’t you play a trick upon me, then?” said the king.
“No, I don’t think I can, because I have left my trickery-sticks at home,” said Peik.
“Can’t you go and fetch them?” said the king. “I should like to see if you are such a clever trickster as folks make you out to be.”
“I am not able to walk so far now,” said Peik.
“I’ll lend you a horse and saddle,” said the king.
“I don’t think I am able to ride either,” said Peik.
“We’ll lift you up,” said the king, “and I suppose you’ll be able to stick on to the horse.”
Well, Peik rubbed and scratched his head, as if he was going to pull all his hair off, but he let himself be lifted on top of the horse at last. There he sat, and swung backwards and forwards and sideways as long as the king could see him, and the king laughed till the tears came into his eyes, for he had never seen such a sorry horseman before. But as soon as Peik came into the wood behind the hill, where the king could see him no longer, he sat straight and steady as if he was nailed to the horse and started off as if he had stolen both horse and bridle, and when he came to the town he sold them both.
In the meantime the king walked up and down and waited for Peik. He longed to see him coming back with his trickery-sticks. He could not help laughing when he called to mind how pitiable Peik looked, as he sat rolling to and fro on the horse like a haybag which didn’t know which side to fall off on. But hours went and hours came, and no Peik came. So the king guessed at last th
at he had been played a trick and done out of his horse and saddle as well, although Peik did not have his trickery-sticks with him. But then things took another turn, for the king got in a rage and made up his mind to take Peik’s life.
But Peik got to know the day when he was coming, and told his sister to put the porridge pot on the fire with some water in it. But just before the king came in he took the pot off the fire and put it on the chopping block and began making the porridge on the block.
The king wondered at this, and was so taken up with the wonderful pot that he forgot what he had come there for.
“What do you want for that pot?” said he.
“I can’t spare it very well,” said Peik.
“Why can’t you spare it?” said the king. “I’ll make it worth your while to sell it.”
“Well, it saves me both money and trouble, chopping and carrying,” said Peik.
“Never mind, I’ll give you a hundred dollars for it,” said the king. “You did me out of horse and saddle the other day, and the bridle too, but I’ll let bygones be bygones if I get the pot.”
“Well, I suppose you must have it, then,” said Peik.
When the king came back to the palace he sent out invitations to a great feast, but the meat was to be boiled in the new pot, which was put in the middle of the floor.
The guests thought the king was out of his mind, and went about nudging each other and laughing at him. But he walked round the pot and cackled and chuckled to himself, saying all the time, “All right, all right! wait a bit! it will boil directly.” But there was no sign of any boiling.
So the king guessed that Peik had been playing a trick upon him again, and he set out to kill him.
When the king came to his place Peik was standing by the barn.
“Wouldn’t it boil?” he said.
“No, it would not,” said the king. “But now you shall suffer for it,” he said, and was going to get his knife ready.
“I believe you there,” said Peik, “for you did not have the block.”
“I shouldn’t wonder if you are telling a lie again,” said the king.
“It’s all for the want of the block,” said Peik. “The pot won’t boil without it.”
Well, what was he going to have for it?
It was worth three hundred dollars at least, but for his sake it should go for two, said Peik.
So the king got the block, and set off for home. He invited guests again to a feast and put the pot on the block in the middle of the room. The guests thought the king was gone sheer mad, and went about making game of him. He cackled and chuckled round the pot, saying all the time, “Wait a bit, it will boil soon—it will boil directly.” But there was no more chance of its boiling on the block than on the floor.
So the king guessed that he had been tricked by Peik that time as well. He tore his hair, and would not rest till he set out to kill him. He should not spare him this time, whether he had got anything to say for himself or not.
But Peik was prepared to receive him again. He killed a wether and took the bladder and filled it with the blood of the slaughtered animal. He then put the bladder in his sister’s bosom and told her what she should say when the king came.
“Where is Peik?” shouted the king. He was in such a rage that his voice trembled.
“He is so poorly that he is not able to move,” answered his sister, “and so he thought he would try and get some sleep.”
“You must wake him up!” said the king.
No, she dared not do it; he was so hasty.
“Well, I am still more hasty,” said the king, “and if you don’t wake him I’ll—” and with that he put his hand to his side for his knife.
No, no! she would rather wake him. But Peik turned round in his bed in a great rage, pulled out his knife, and stabbed her in the bosom. The knife hit the bladder, a stream of blood gushed out, and she fell down on the floor as if she were dead.
“What a villain you are, Peik,” said the king. “You have stabbed your own sister, and that while the king stands by and looks at it.”
“Oh, there isn’t much danger, as long as I have got breath in my nostrils,” said Peik, and took a ram’s horn, which he began blowing; and when he had blown a wedding march on it he put the horn to his sister’s nostrils and blew life into her again, and she rose up as if nothing had been the matter with her.
“Why, bless me, Peik! Can you kill people and blow life into them again?” said the king.
“Well, yes, what would become of me if I couldn’t?” said Peik. “You see, I am so hasty and I can’t help killing everyone who comes near me and annoys me.”
“I am also very hasty,” said the king, “and I must have that horn. I’ll give you a hundred dollars for it, and I’ll forgive you besides for doing me out of the horse and cheating me on the pot and block business and all the rest.”
Peik could not very well spare the horn, but for his sake he should have it, and so the king got it, and set out home as fast as he could.
He had no sooner come home before he must try the horn. He began quarreling and scolding the queen and his eldest daughter, and they scolded him again, but before they knew a word about it he pulled out his knife and stabbed them both so they fell down stone dead, and all who were in the room ran out, they were so afraid.
The king walked up and down the floor for some time and kept on saying there was no danger so long as there was breath in his nostrils, and a great deal more nonsense which had flowed out of Peik’s mouth. He then took the horn and began blowing, but although he blew all he could that day and the day after as well, he could not blow life into the bodies. They were dead, and dead they remained, both the queen and his daughter, and so he had to bury them, and to give a grand funeral in the bargain.
When this was done the king set out to settle with Peik and to take his life, but Peik had everything prepared, for he knew the king was coming, and he said to his sister, “You must change clothes with me and be off! You may take all we have with you.”
Yes, she changed clothes with him, packed up her things, and started off as fast as she could, while Peik sat all by himself in his sister’s clothes.
“Where is that Peik?” said the king, as he came in a great rage through the door.
“He’s gone away,” said he who sat in the sister’s clothes.
“Well, had he been at home now he wouldn’t have had long to live,” said the king. “It’s no use sparing the life of such a scamp.”
“He knew Your Majesty was coming to punish him for having played so many tricks upon you, and so he ran away and left me behind here both without food or money,” said Peik, trying to appear like a shy bashful maiden.
“Come along with me to the palace, and you shall get enough to live on. There is little use in sitting in the cottage here and starving,” said the king.
Yes, he would willingly do that, and so the king took him and let him learn everything, and kept him as one of his own daughters. In fact, the king felt now as if he had all his three daughters again, for Peik stitched and sewed and sang and played with them, and was in their company early and late.
Some time afterwards a prince came to the palace to woo one of the princesses.
“Yes, I have three daughters,” said the king. “You have only to say which one you will have.”
So the prince got leave to go up in their bower and get acquainted with them. In the end he liked Peik best, and threw a silk handkerchief into his lap, and so they began getting everything ready for the wedding, and shortly the prince’s relations arrived at the palace, and the wedding festivities commenced in earnest with feasting and drinking. But on the wedding day, as night was coming on, Peik dared not remain any longer, and he stole out of the palace and ran across the fields, and there was no bride to be found.
And worse remains to be told, for the two princesses were suddenly taken ill, and all the guests had to break up and take their departure just as they were in the middle o
f all the fun and feasting.
The king was both enraged and sorrowful at these misfortunes, and began to wonder what could really be the cause of them.
So he mounted his horse and rode out, for he thought it was so lonely to stay alone by himself at home. But when he came out in the fields he saw Peik sitting there on a stone, playing a jew’s-harp.
“Halloh! are you sitting there, Peik?” asked the king.
“Of course I am,” said Peik. “I can’t sit in two places at once.”
“Well, you have played such vile tricks on me time after time,” said the king, “that you will have to come with me and get your deserts.”
“Well, I suppose there’s no help for it,” said Peik, “so I may as well jump into it as creep into it.”
When they came to the palace the king gave orders to get ready a barrel, which Peik was to be put in, and when it was ready they carted it up on a high mountain, where he was to lie in the barrel for three days to think on all that he had done, before they rolled the barrel down the mountain into the sea.
On the third day a rich man came past as Peik lay in the barrel singing—
To Paradise, to Paradise I am bound,
Safe in my barrel as it turns round and round.
When the man heard this, he asked Peik what he would take to let him take his place.
“I ought to be well paid for that,” said Peik, “for there isn’t much a chance every day to go straight to Paradise.”
The man was willing to give him all he possessed, and so he knocked out the bottom of the barrel and crept into it instead of Peik.
In the evening the king came to roll the barrel down the mountain.
“A safe journey to you!” said the king; he thought it was Peik who was in it. “You’ll roll faster into the sea than if you were drawn by the swiftest reindeer, and now there will be an end both to you and your tricks.”