So for a third time Simpleton demanded his bride, but the king sought yet another pretext to refuse, demanding a ship that could sail on land and water. “As soon as you come sailing up in such a vessel,” he said, “I’ll give you my daughter’s hand in marriage.”
So Simpleton went straight back to the forest. Seated at the selfsame spot he found the little gray man, who said, “For you I drank and ate, and I’ll get you the vessel too – all because you were merciful to me.” Then he gave him the ship that could sail on land and water, and as soon as the king saw Simpleton sailing up to the castle he could no longer refuse him his daughter. The wedding was celebrated, and after the king’s death Simpleton inherited the kingdom and lived a long life with his wife.
THE OWL
Several centuries ago, when people weren’t half as canny and shrewd as they are today, a curious occurrence came to pass in a small town. One of those great big owls called Shuhus flew into town from the neighboring woods one night, took refuge in the barn of a respected burgher, and fearing the other birds, who, upon seeing it, gave off an awful squall, didn’t dare come out again. When the farmhand entered the barn the following morning to gather hay, he took such a terrible fright at the sight of the owl seated in the corner that he ran away and reported to his master that a monster the likes of which he had never seen was seated in the barn, its great eyes rotating in its head, liable to gobble you up in a single bite.
“I know your kind,” said the master. “You’re brave enough to hunt down a blackbird in the field, but spot a dead chicken and you’ll first find a stick to poke it before drawing near. Let me go see for myself what kind of monster it is,” the master added, courageously entering the barn and looking around. But when he saw the strange and terrible creature with his own eyes, he took no less a fright than his farmhand. Howling a string of words to himself, he trundled out of the barn, ran to his neighbors, and begged them to stand by him to face the unknown and terrible creature, lest the entire town risk its wrath were it to break out of his barn where it sat.
A great hubbub arose in the streets. The burghers came armed with pikes, pitchforks, scythes, and axes, as though they meant to make war on the enemy. They were joined by all the councilmen, led by the mayor. Once they’d gathered in the marketplace, they set out for the barn and surrounded it on all sides, whereupon one of the bravest of the lot stepped forward and entered the barn with his sharpened pike raised. But he promptly came running back out again, pale as death and unable to utter a word. Two others dared enter, but they fared no better.
Finally a big strong man stepped forward, famous hereabouts for his feats of bravery in war, and said, “It won’t do any good just to ogle the beast, we need a plan. But I can see that you’ve all gone yellow and not one of you dares bite the fox by its tail.” He had them bring him a suit of armor, a sword, and a spear, and readied himself to do battle. Everyone marveled at his pluck but feared for his life. The two doors were flung open and all present caught site of the owl that had in the meantime perched on a big crossbeam in the middle of the barn. The brave man had a ladder brought in, and as he set it in place and prepared to climb, everyone told him to hold firm, as did Saint George when he tilted with the dragon. Once he’d climbed to the top and the owl saw the man draw near, befuddled by the mob below and the cry of the crowd, and not knowing how to get out, it rotated its eyes, ruffled its feathers, spread its wings, snapped its beak, and let out its stentorian “Shuhu, Shuhu.”
“Heave to, heave to!” the crowd outside cried to the brave hero.
“Anyone standing where I’m standing,” he replied, “wouldn’t cry: Heave to!” He raised a foot to climb another rung, then started to tremble, and half faint with fear, posted a hasty retreat.
Now there was no one left to face the danger. “By just snapping and breathing upon him,” they said, “the monster poisoned the strongest man among us, sending him to his grave. Should we too lay our lives on the line?” They put their heads together to try to figure out what to do to save the city.
For the longest time it seemed like there was no way out, until finally the mayor came up with a plan. “In my opinion,” he said, “we pool our resources to buy this barn, including everything in it, grain, straw, and hay, from the owner, and then we burn it all to the ground, the terrible creature along with it, so that nobody need risk his life. There’s no time to lose, we dare spare no expense.” Everyone agreed. So the barn was set on fire from all four corners and the poor owl went down along with it. If you don’t believe me, just go there and ask for yourself.