So the following morning, the boy went to the king and said, “By your leave, sire, I’d like to stand guard three nights in the cursed castle.”
The king looked him over, and because he liked his face, he said, “You can ask for three things, but they must be lifeless things, to take with you into the castle.”
To which the boy replied, “Then I ask for a fire, a lathe, and a carver’s bench with a carving knife.”
The king had everything the boy asked for taken to the castle by day. At twilight, the young man went in, lit himself a bright fire in an empty room, placed the lathe beside him, and sat down on the carver’s bench. “If only I knew fear,” he said aloud, “but I won’t learn it here either.”
At midnight he wanted to stoke his fire – but as he blew on it, there came a cry from the corner of the room: “Hell’s bells, we’re trembling with cold!”
“You fools,” cried the boy, “what are you crying about? If you’re cold you can sit by my fire and warm yourselves.”
No sooner had he said it than a pair of big black cats bounded out of the dark with a mighty leap and sat themselves down beside him, eyeing him with their fiery eyes. After a little while, once they had warmed themselves, they said, “Well, friend, what do you say we play a game of cards?”
“Why not?” the boy replied. “But first show me your paws.” So the cats extended their claws. “My,” he said, “what long nails you have! Permit me to pare them for you.” Whereupon he grabbed them by their necks, lifted them onto the lathe, and screwed down their paws. “I caught you red-handed,” he said, “and it made me lose my appetite for cards!” Then he killed them and tossed them out into the moat.
But no sooner had he laid those two to rest and prepared to plunk himself back down beside his fire than black cats and black dogs came flying out from all directions, ever more and more of them, so that he couldn’t ward them off – they whooped and howled something awful, stamped on his fire, pulling it apart, and tried to put it out. He looked on patiently for a while, but when things got out of hand he grabbed his carving knife and cried, “Get lost, you miserable lot!” and lunged at them. Some leapt aside, others he managed to kill and hurled their bodies out into the moat.
Upon his return he blew on the glowing embers, started his fire up again, and warmed himself. And as he sat there, his eyes wouldn’t stay open, and he had a hankering for sleep. So he looked around and saw a big bed in the corner. “That’s a sight for sore eyes,” he said and lay himself down. But no sooner did he shut his eyes than the bed set itself in motion and hightailed it all over the castle. “Let’s go then,” he said, “full speed ahead.” Then the bed rolled off as if it were drawn by six horses, through doorways and over steps, up and down – clippety-clop! – and all of a sudden it turned itself upside down, so that it was stacked like a mountain upon him. But he pried loose blankets and pillows, crawled out, and said, “Go fly off where you like, I’m tired,” then lay himself down beside the fire and slept until daybreak.
The next morning the king came by, and when he saw the boy lying there on the ground he thought the evil spirits had done him in and he was dead. So he said, “Such a shame, he was a lovely person!”
The boy heard it, sat himself upright, and said, “Not so fast!”
Now the king was stunned, but happy to see him stir, and asked him how things had gone.
“Very well, thank you,” the lad replied. “That’s one night down and two to go.” And when he went back to the innkeeper, the man could not believe his eyes.
“I never thought I’d see you again alive and kicking,” he said. “Did you learn what fear is?”
“No,” said the boy, “it’s all for naught – if only somebody could set me straight!”
On the second night he returned to the old castle, sat himself down by the fire, and returned to muttering his old complaint: “If only I knew fear!” Come midnight a racket started up in the room, first softly, then louder and louder, then it was still again, and finally one half of a man came howling down the chimney and fell before him. “Hey there,” the boy cried, “there’s half of you missing.” Then the awful racket started up again, the raving and roaring, and the other half of the man fell down. “Wait,” said the boy, “let me first stoke the fire a little.” No sooner had he done so than the two halves came together, and a ghastly man took his seat on the bench. “That wasn’t the deal,” said the boy, “the bench is mine.” The man wanted to chase him away, but the boy would have none of it, gave him a mighty shove, and sat himself back down in his place. Then more men came tumbling down the chimney, one after the other; they gathered together nine bones and two skulls and started playing ninepins. The boy got a hankering to join in, and he said, “Can I play too?”