The Tailor and the Tsar
There once lived a king, greedy and cruel.One day, he ordered all the tailors, weavers, and embroiderers to be summoned to the palace and said to them:
"Listen, craftsmen! What keeps us warm on cold winter nights? A blanket. What shields us from the heat? A blanket. To put it simply: a person without a blanket is like a horse without a saddle. So, here’s the deal: whoever sews a blanket that fits my royal stature exactly will be rewarded with the hand of my daughter, Princess Rachia Fire-Eyed, and half the kingdom as a dowry. But whoever brings a blanket that is too long or too short will become my slave. We have spoken, people, and our royal word is worth more than gold, stronger than diamond."
The weavers, tailors, and embroiderers set to work. Some quilted blankets with cotton and down, soft and warm like the wool of a mountain goat; others wove blankets from shimmering silk threads, light as a cloud; still others, stretching velvet on embroidery frames, stitched the finest patterns in gold and silver. They adorned the blankets with bright tassels, trimmed them with fur, and lined them with brocade. But none of them could please the king.
If they brought him a long blanket, he would deliberately cover himself with it sideways and grumble:
"Look, your skimpy blanket doesn’t even cover my feet!"
If the blanket was short, he would curl up into a ball and shout throughout the palace:
"Fool, you’ve sewn a blanket for a giant! Can’t you see I’m drowning in its folds?"
And no one dared to contradict the king.
Thousands of unfortunate souls, cursing their fate, became slaves to the greedy king.
Chained and shackled, they worked day and night deep in mountain caves, never seeing the sun or knowing rest.
Word of the king’s atrocities reached a certain tailor. This tailor was old, poor, and lame. He walked with a cane and never dreamed of Princess Rachia Fire-Eyed. But the old tailor had a kind heart. He said to his wife:
"I swear by my papakha, I will either die or save these unfortunate souls. Come what may!"
From scraps of cotton, he sewed a blanket exactly to the king’s size, took a handful of chortan—dried curd—for the journey, and set off for the palace, leaning on his gnarled cane.
In the mountains, where clouds roam and eternal snow glistens on the peaks, the royal castle loomed like an eagle’s nest, surrounded by crenellated walls, fortified with battlements, and adorned with stone carvings of a vishap—a dragon with its fearsome jaws agape.
The tailor boldly approached the iron-bound gates and asked to be announced to the king.
The king’s servants glanced at the patchwork blanket and mocked the tailor:
"What are you hoping for, you lame fool! The king won’t even look at your rags!"
"I’m counting on a faithful helper I’ve had for many years," replied the tailor with a smile.
The servants didn’t understand his words, but remembering the king’s strict order, they led the tailor into the royal chambers.
The king looked at the tailor and frowned, for the tailor was old, thin, and lame. Such a worker could not bring much profit. But the king did not want to break his royal word in front of the servants and said:
"Ha! The donkey boasted of becoming a horse, but his ears got in the way? The most skilled craftsmen couldn’t sew a blanket to my size, and this beggar in rags hopes to please me?..."
"If there were no donkey, the horse would have to carry the firewood," replied the tailor. "Try on my blanket, O King, and may I lose my papakha if it doesn’t fit you exactly."
"Cover me with this rag that this wretch dares to call a blanket," ordered the king.
The king’s servants draped the blanket over him, and it covered him from head to toe.
But in an instant, the king flipped the blanket sideways, and everyone saw that the king’s feet in their crimson velvet slippers stuck out.
"Put a dog collar on this madman and chain him in the middle of the courtyard," said the king. "Let him scare the bats with his barking at night..."
Hearing the king’s words, the servants laughed at the poor tailor.
"A wise man laughs last," said the tailor and struck the king’s feet with his gnarled cane.
The king howled like a buffalo and tucked his feet under the blanket, while the servants stood frozen, mouths agape, stunned by the tailor’s audacity.
"Execute the insolent man at once!" shouted the king.
"O King," the tailor stopped him, "the blanket fits you perfectly, and I’ve heard that your royal word is worth more than gold, stronger than diamond."
A cry of anger caught in the king’s throat; he remembered the old saying: *He who deceives today will not be trusted tomorrow.* Trembling with powerless rage, the king replied:
"You’re right, tailor. My word is worth more than gold, stronger than diamond. I will give you half the kingdom and Princess Rachia, but only if you swear to never speak of striking the king."
"O King!" replied the tailor. "I have no need for a kingdom, and I am not worthy even to look upon Rachia Fire-Eyed. Release the unfortunate slaves from the mountain caves, and I will leave, bowing low to you."
A fox caught in a trap will gnaw off its own paw. Along with the tailor, the king had to release all the slaves, and even wish them well on their journey.
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