by Jane Yolen
Learned doctors and brave adventurers had tried to exorcise the ghost. And the next morning they had been found in the great hall of the castle, sitting lifeless before the empty fireplace.
Now one day in late October there came to the little village that nestled around the castle walls a brave and jolly tinker whose name was Esteban. And while he sat in the marketplace mending the pots and pans the good wives told him about the haunted castle. It was All Hallows’ Eve, they said, and if he would wait until nightfall he could see the strange, ghostly light flare up from the chimney. He might, if he dared go near enough, hear the thin, sad voice echo through the silent rooms.
“If I dare!” Esteban repeated scornfully.” You must know, good wives, that I—Esteban—fear nothing, neither ghost nor human. I will gladly sleep in the castle tonight, and keep this dismal spirit company.”
The good wives looked at him in amazement. Did Esteban know that if he succeeded in banishing the ghost the owner of the castle would give him a thousand gold reales?
Esteban chuckled. If that was how matters stood, he would go to the castle at nightfall and do his best to get rid of the thing that haunted it. But he was a man who liked plenty to eat and drink and a fire to keep him company. They must bring to him a load of faggots, a side of bacon, a flask of wine, a dozen fresh eggs and a frying pan. This the good wives gladly did. And as the dusk fell, Esteban loaded these things on the donkey’s back and set out for the castle. And you may be very sure that not one of the village people went very far along the way with him!
It was a dark night with a chill wind blowing and a hint of rain in the air. Esteban unsaddled his donkey and set him to graze on the short grass of the deserted courtyard. Then he carried his food and his faggots into the great hall. It was dark as pitch there. Bats beat their soft wings in his face and the air felt cold and musty. He lost no time in piling some of his faggots in one corner of the huge stone fireplace and in lighting them. As the red and golden flames leaped up the chimney Esteban rubbed his hands. Then he settled himself comfortably on the hearth.
“That is the thing to keep off both cold and fear,” he said.
Carefully slicing some bacon he laid it in the pan and set it over the flames. How good it smelled! And how cheerful the sound of its crisp sizzling!
He had just lifted his flask to take a deep drink of the good wine when down the chimney there came a voice—a thin, sad voice—and “Oh me!” it wailed, “Oh me! Oh me!”
Esteban swallowed the wine and set the flask carefully down beside him.
“Not a very cheerful greeting, my friend,” he said, as he moved the bacon on the pan so that it should be equally brown in all its parts. “But bearable to a man who is used to the braying of his donkey.”
And “Oh me!” sobbed the voice, “Oh me! Oh me!”
Esteban lifted the bacon carefully from the hot fat and laid it on a bit of brown paper to drain. Then he broke an egg into the frying pan. As he gently shook the pan so that the edges of his egg should be crisp and brown and the yolk soft, the voice came again. Only this time it was shrill and frightened.
“Look out below,” it called. “I’m falling.”
“All right,” answered Esteban, “only don’t fall into the frying pan.”
With that there was a thump, and there on the hearth lay a man’s leg! It was a good leg enough and it was clothed in the half of a pair of brown corduroy trousers.
Esteban ate his egg, a piece of bacon and drank again from the flask of wine. The wind howled around the castle and the rain beat against the windows.
Then, “Look out below,” called the voice sharply. “I’m falling!”
There was a thump, and on the hearth there lay a second leg, just like the first!
Esteban moved it away from the fire and piled on more faggots. Then he warmed the fat in the frying pan and broke into it a second egg.
And, “Look out below!” roared the voice. And now it was no longer thin, but strong and lusty. “Look out below! I’m falling!”
“Fall away,” Esteban answered cheerfully. “Only don’t spill my egg.”
There was a thump, heavier than the first two, and on the hearth there lay a trunk. It was clothed in a blue shirt and a brown corduroy coat.
Esteban was eating his third egg and the last of the cooked bacon when the voice called again, and down fell first one arm and then the other.
“Now,” thought Esteban, as he put the frying pan on the fire and began to cook more bacon. “Now there is only the head. I confess that I am rather curious to see the head.”
And, “LOOK OUT BELOW!” thundered the voice. “I’M FALLING—FALLING!”
And down the chimney there came tumbling a head!
It was a good head enough, with thick black hair, a long black beard and dark eyes that looked a little strained and anxious. Esteban’s bacon was only half cooked. Nevertheless, he removed the pan from the fire and laid it on the hearth. And it is a good thing that he did, because before his eyes the parts of the body joined together, and a living man—or his ghost—stood before him! And that was a sight that might have startled Esteban into burning his fingers with the bacon fat.
“Good evening,” said Esteban. “Will you have an egg and a bit of bacon?”
“No, I want no food,” the ghost answered. “But I will tell you this, right here and now. You are the only man, out of all those who have come to the castle, to stay here until I could get my body together again. The others died of sheer fright before I was half finished.”
“That is because they did not have sense enough to bring food and fire with them,” Esteban replied coolly. And he turned back to his frying pan.
“Wait a minute!” pleaded the ghost. “If you will help me a bit more, you will save my soul and get me into the Kingdom of Heaven. Out in the courtyard, under a cypress tree, there are buried three bags—one of copper coins, one of silver coins, and one of gold coins. I stole then from some thieves and brought them here to the castle to hide. But no sooner did I have them buried than the thieves overtook me, murdered me and cut my body into pieces. But they did not find the coins. Now you come with me and dig them up. Give the copper coins to the Church, the silver coins to the poor, and keep the gold coins for yourself. Then I will have expiated my sins and can go to the Kingdom of Heaven.”
This suited Esteban. So he went out into the courtyard with the ghost. And you should have heard how the donkey brayed when he saw them!
When they reached the cypress tree in a corner of the courtyard: “Dig,” said the ghost.
“Dig yourself,” answered Esteban.
So the ghost dug, and after a time the three bags of money appeared.
“Now will you promise to do just what I asked you to do?” asked the ghost.
“Yes, I promise,” Esteban answered.
“Then,” said the ghost, “strip my garments from me.”
This Esteban did, and instantly the ghost disappeared, leaving his clothes lying there on the short grass of the courtyard. It went straight up to Heaven and knocked on the gate. Saint Peter opened it, and when the spirit explained that he had expiated his sins, gave him a cordial welcome.
Esteban carried the coins into the great hall of the castle, fried and ate another egg and then went peacefully to sleep before the fire.
The next morning when the village people came to carry away Esteban’s body, they found him making an omelette out of the last of the fresh eggs.
“Are you alive?” they gasped.
“I am,” Esteban answered. “And the food and the faggots lasted through very nicely. Now I will go the owner of the castle and collect my thousand gold reales. The ghost has gone for good and all. You will find his clothes lying out in the courtyard.”
And before their astonished eyes he loaded the bags of coins on the donkey’s back and departed.
First he collected the thousand gold reales from the grateful lord of the castle. Then he returned to Toledo, gave the copper
coins to the cura of his church, and faithfully distributed the silver ones among the poor. And on the thousand reales and the golden coins he lived in idleness and great contentment for many years.
HOLD HIM, TABB
Afro-American
A number of wagons were traveling together one afternoon in December. It was extremely cold, and about the middle of the afternoon it began to snow. They soon came to an abandoned settlement by the roadside, and decided it would be a good place to camp out of the storm, as there were stalls for their horses and an old dwelling-house in which they themselves could stay.
When they had nearly finished unhooking their horses a man came along and said that he was the owner of the place, and that the men were welcome to stay there as long as they wanted to, but that the house was haunted, and not a single person had stayed in it alive for twenty-five years. On hearing this the men immediately moved their camp to a body of woods about one-half mile further up the road. One of them, whose name was Tabb, and who was braver than the rest, said that he was not afraid of haunts, and that he did not mean to take himself and horses into the woods to perish in the snow, but that he’d stay where he was.
So Tabb stayed in the house. He built a big fire, cooked and ate his supper, and rested well through the night without being disturbed. About daybreak he awoke and said, “What fools those other fellows are to have stayed in the woods when they might have stayed in here, and been as warm as I am!”
Just as he had finished speaking he looked up to the ceiling, and there was a large man dressed in white clothes just stretched out under the ceiling and sticking up to it. Before he could get from under the man, the man fell right down upon him, and then commenced a great tussle between Tabb and the man. They made so much noise that the men in the woods heard it and ran to see what was going on.
When they looked in at the window and saw the struggle, first Tabb was on top and then the other man. One of them cried, “Hold him, Tabb, hold him!”
“You can bet your soul I got him!” said Tabb.
Soon the man got Tabb out of the window.
“Hold him, Tabb, hold him!” one of the men shouted.
“You can bet your life I got him!” came from Tabb.
Soon the man got Tabb upon the roof of the house.
“Hold him, Tabb, hold him!” said one of the men.
“You can bet your boots I got him!” answered Tabb.
Finally the man got Tabb up off the roof into the air.
“Hold him, Tabb, hold him!” shouted one of the men.
“I got him and he got me, too!” said Tabb.
The man, who was a ghost, carried Tabb straight up into the air until they were both out of sight. Nothing was ever seen of him again.
DRINKING COMPANIONS
China
A fisherman named Hsü made his home outside the north gate of Tzu, a township in present-day Shantung. Every night he took along some wine to the riverside to drink while he fished. And each time, he poured a little offering on the ground “so that the spirits of those who have drowned in the river may have some wine too.” When other fishermen had caught nothing, Hsü usually went home with a basketful.
One evening as Hsü was tippling by himself, a young man approached him and paced back and forth. Hsü offered him a drink and grandly shared his winejar. It was a disappointing night, however, for he failed to catch a single fish. “Let me go downstream and drive them up for you,” said the young man, who rose and departed in a manner that seemed to be airborne. He returned shortly and said, “A number of fish will be arriving.” And indeed, Hsü could hear a chorus of splashing as the approaching fish struck at insects. He took up his net and got several, each a foot long.
Delighted, Hsü thanked the young man and started home. Then he turned to offer his benefactor some fish, but the young man dedined, saying, “I have often enjoyed your delicious brew. For my trifling assistance it’s not worth speaking of reciprocity. In fact, if you wouldn’t refuse my company, I’d like to make a custom of it.”
“We have spent only an evening together,” answered Hsü. “What do you mean by ‘often enjoyed?’ But it would be a pleasure if you kept visiting me, though I’m afraid I don’t have anything to repay your kindness.” Then he asked the young man his name.
“I am a Wang,” was the reply, “but have no given name. You could call me ‘Liu-lang,’ or ‘Sixth-born,’ when we meet.” And thus they parted.
Next day Hsü sold his fish and bought more wine. In the evening the young man was already there when Hsü arrived at the riverbank, so they had the pleasure of drinking together again. And again after several rounds the young man suddenly whisked away to drive the fish for Hsü.
Things went on agreeably like this for half a year when out of the blue Liu-lang announced to Hsü, “Ever since I had the honor of your acquaintance, we have been closer than closest kin. But the day of parting has come.” His voice was filled with sadness.
Hsü was surprised and asked why. The young man started to speak and then stopped several times until he said at last, “Close as we are, the reason may shock you. But now that we are to part, there’s no harm in telling you the plain truth: I’m a ghost, one with a weakness for wine. I died by drowning when I was drunk, and I have been here several years. The reason you always caught more fish than anyone else is that I was secretly driving them toward you in thanks for your libations. But tomorrow my term of karma ends, and a replacement for me will be coming. I’m to be reborn into another life on earth. This evening is all that remains for us to share, and it is hard not to feel sad.”
Hsü was frightened at first, but they had been close friends for so long that his fear abated. He sighed deeply over the news, poured a drink, and said, “Liu-lang, drink this up and don’t despair. If our ways must part, that’s reason enough for regret; but if your karmic lot is fulfilled and your term of suffering relieved, that’s cause for congratulation, not sorrow.” And together they shared a deep swig of wine. “Who will replace you?” asked Hsü.
“You’ll see from the riverbank. At high noon a woman will drown as she crosses the river. That will be the one!” As the roosters in the hamlet called forth the dawn, the two drinkers parted, shedding tears.
The next day Hsü watched expectantly from the edge of the river. A woman came carrying a baby in her arms. As she reached the river, she fell. She tossed the child to shore, then began crying and flailing her hands and feet. She surfaced and sank several times until she pulled herself out, streaming water. Then she rested a little while, took her child in her arms, and left.
When the woman was sinking, Hsü could not bear it and wished he could rush to her rescue. He held back only because he remembered that she was to replace Liu-lang. But when the woman got herself out he began to doubt what Liu-lang had told him.
At dusk Hsü went fishing in the usual spot. Again his friend came and said to him, “Now we are together again and need not speak of parting for the time being.” When Hsü asked why, Liu-lang replied, “The woman had already taken my place, but I had pity for the child in her arms. Two should not be lost for one, and so I spared them. When I will be replaced is not known, and so it seems that the brotherhood between us shall continue.”
Hsü sighed with deep feeling. “Such a humane heart should be seen by the Highest of Heaven.” And so they had the pleasure of each other’s company as before.
Several days later, however, Liu-lang came to say goodbye again. Hsü thought he had found another replacement, but Liu-lang said, “No, my compassionate thought for the drowning woman actually reached to Heaven, and I have been rewarded with a position as local deity in Wu township of Chauyüan county. I assume office tomorrow. Please remember our friendship and visit me; don’t worry about the length or difficulty of the journey.”
“What a comfort to have someone as upright as you for a deity,” said Hsü, offering his congratulations. “But no road connects men and gods. Even if the distance did not daunt me, h
ow could I manage to go?”
“Simply go; don’t think about it,” replied the young man. After repeating the invitation, he left.
Hsü went home to put his things in order and set out at once, though his wife mocked him. “You’re going hundreds of miles? Even if this place exists, I don’t think you can hold a conversation with a clay idol!” she sneered. Hsü paid no attention. He started off and eventually arrived in Chauyüan county, where he learned that there really was a Wu township. On his way there he stopped at a hostel and asked for directions to the temple. The host said with an air of pleasant surprise, “By any chance is our guest’s surname Hsü?”
“Yes, how did you know?”
The host left abruptly without making a reply. Presently a mixed throng approached and circled Hsü like a wall; men carried their babies, women peeped around their doors. The crowd announced to an amazed Hsü, “Several nights ago we had a dream in which our deity said that a friend named Hsü would be coming and that we should help him out with his traveling expenses. We have been respectfully awaiting you.” Marveling at this reception, Hsü went to sacrifice at the temple.
“Since we parted,” he prayed, “my thoughts have dwelled on you night and day. I have come far to keep our agreement, and I am both favored and deeply moved by the sign you gave the local people. But I am embarrassed to have come without a fitting gift. All I brought was a flask of wine. If it is acceptable, let us drink as we used to on the riverbank.” His prayer done, Hsü burned paper money. Shortly he saw a wind arise behind the shrine. The smoke swirled around for a time and then disappeared.