How the Priest Deceived Taras Once, and Taras Deceived Him Twice

Once upon a time, there lived a very poor peasant, and he had a wife, but they had no children. They became so destitute that they couldn’t even afford to buy bread.

“Ah, wife,” said the peasant, “let’s take our last cow to the market, sell it, and buy some bread.”

The peasant went to town to sell the cow, and on his way, he met a priest and his clergy coming from the town.

“Hello, Taras!”
“Hello, Father!”
“Where are you going, Taras, with that goat?”
“Father, this is a cow!”
“No, my dear, this is a goat. Even the deacon will tell you so.”
“Yes, it’s a goat!” said the deacon.

The peasant was baffled, and the priest persuaded him:
“Brother Taras, sell me this goat. Here’s three rubles for it!”

The peasant had no choice, so he sold his cow to the priest for three rubles. He returned home and said to his wife:
“How foolish you are! You gave me a goat on a leash instead of a cow.”

His wife scolded him:
“Have you lost your mind? All the goats are at home, but the cow is gone.”
“Well, wife, what can we do? I sold the cow to the priest. We’ll figure it out later.”

Sunday came again. Taras went to town, knowing that the priest and his clergy would surely stop at the tavern for lunch. He conspired with the tavern keeper:
“I’ll eat and drink for ten kopecks, but you say it cost a hundred rubles.”

The clergy and the priest sat in the next room, talking among themselves:
“What a man our Taras is! He spent a hundred rubles on one meal! The four of us barely spend ten rubles, and he spent a hundred!”

They peeked through a crack to see how Taras would pay. Taras brought a huge hat, about a yard and a half tall, into the tavern. He tapped the hat:
“Well, tavern keeper, is it paid?”
“Paid in full.”

The priest and his clergy watched in amazement.

Taras tapped the hat again:
“Be well, tavern keeper!”

A third time he tapped, and the tavern keeper said:
“Well done, Taras, you sure know how to pay.”

The priest said:
“Brothers, let’s buy this hat from Taras. It will come in handy—every trip to town will give us a free meal at the tavern. Deacon, put in twenty-five rubles, the clerks will put in twenty-five together, and I’ll put in fifty. Maybe he’ll sell it for a hundred rubles.”

On his way home, Taras was overtaken by the priest:
“Listen, Taras, sell us this hat. It will help us out. How much do you want for it? We’ll give you fifty silver rubles.”
“No, Father, I can’t part with my father’s blessing. Even if I’m in town occasionally, I’ll drink and enjoy myself to my heart’s content.”
“Listen, Taras, here’s a hundred silver rubles.”
“No, Father, if you want to buy it, I’ll sell it for a hundred and fifty rubles.”
“Well, brothers,” said the priest, “let’s buy it, or someone else might offer more.”

They bought the hat for a hundred and fifty rubles. Taras returned home and said to his wife:
“Well, wife, you scolded me for selling the cow for three rubles, but now I’ve sold my hat for a hundred and fifty rubles.”

Taras started managing his household, while the priest eagerly awaited the next holiday to go to town for a free meal. The clergy, their wives, nannies, and children all went to town. They ordered the tavern keeper:
“Serve us two hundred rubles’ worth of food and drink.”

The tavern keeper was happy to oblige, serving them a feast worth two hundred rubles. After they finished eating:
“Well, Father, please settle the bill!”
The priest got up from the table:
“Just a moment, tavern keeper!” The sexton brought the hat from the yard. The priest tapped the hat with his palm:
“Well, tavern keeper, are we settled?”
“No, Father, pay up!”

The priest handed the hat to the deacon to tap it. The deacon tapped and tapped, but the tavern keeper kept demanding payment. All the clergy pounded the hat with their fists, but the tavern keeper insisted:
“Pay up!”

The clergy pooled their money, borrowed from acquaintances, and paid the tavern keeper.

Taras lived off the money from the hat for about two years, then said to his wife:
“Here’s what, wife! Lie down on the bench and don’t move. I’ll go fetch the priest and tell him, ‘Father, please come and give last rites: my wife is very ill.’”

The peasant went to the priest.
“Why have you come?”
“Please, Father, come and give last rites: my wife is dying.”

The priest prepared and went with Taras. They entered the hut, and the wife lay there, already dead and prepared.
“Father,” said Taras, “bless me! I have an ancient club (from the creation of the world). If I strike my wife three times with this club, she’ll come back to life.”
“Well, if this club has been preserved since the days of our ancestors—I bless you!”

The priest, terrified, went out to the porch, while Taras struck the bench three times with the club. His wife stirred and groaned. The priest was amazed that the woman had come back to life. He entered the hut, and the woman was already sitting on the bench, swaying. Taras gave her a ladle of cold water, and she fully recovered.

The priest praised Taras and went home. That same day, he gathered his clergy and told them about the miraculous resurrection of the peasant’s wife.
“If only we could buy that club! We’re always going to funerals—we could revive the dead with it. Let’s pool our money and buy the club from the peasant.”
“You, Father, go and negotiate.”
“No, let’s all go together.”

They went to Taras.
“Won’t you sell us the club that revives people?”
“I will.”
“How much do you want for it?”
“Ah, Father, give me five hundred rubles.”

The clergy conferred.
The priest said, “Let’s pool our money. I’ll put in two hundred and fifty rubles, and you three put in two hundred and fifty.”

They gave the money to the peasant and took the club. As soon as they arrived home, a wealthy merchant met them.
“Father, my wife died today. Please arrange the burial.”
“Right away, sir, we’ll come.”

They quickly gathered, taking the club with them. They arrived, and the body lay on the table. The priest said to the deacon:
“Oh, we’ll revive her! Bring the club, sexton!”

The merchant was puzzled as to why the sexton was bringing a club. The clergy struck the merchant’s wife three times—but she didn’t revive. The relatives reported this desecration of the deceased to the merchant. The merchant filed a complaint with the authorities, accusing the clergy of beating the deceased. And so, without much deliberation, they were all dragged to court for judgment.

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How the Priest Deceived Taras Once, and Taras Deceived Him Twice

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