A Purse of Gold for a Pair of Pants

With his legs crossed, the tailor sat on the table, finishing a brocade doublet when the lord himself, the owner of Saddle Castle and its surrounding lands, dropped by.

"Good morning, tailor," greeted the lord. "I see you're still working on my doublet."

"Fine fabric, my lord," replied the tailor, not taking his eyes off his work. "It's a pleasure to sew with such material."

The lord had nowhere to rush, and with nothing else to occupy himself, he leaned against the door and watched the tailor sew.

"Have you heard? He appeared again at the monastery cemetery," continued the chatty lord.

The tailor nodded.

"The devil himself," added the lord.

The tailor nodded again.

Oh, if only the lord would go his way and let him work in peace. All this lord wanted to do was chatter!

That's what the tailor thought. But of course, he said nothing aloud.

"Yes, you won't find a brave soul who would dare spend the night at the cemetery," the lord persisted.

The tailor mumbled something.

"Do you agree with me?" the lord pressed.

"Truly, I don't know, sir," replied the tailor. At that moment, the lord pulled out a hefty purse of gold coins from his pocket and shook it in the air.

"Care to make a wager?" he proposed. "You're always sitting and sewing. I'll bet this purse of gold: you won't last the night at the cemetery working, and by morning, you won't have a new pair of trousers ready!"

The tailor said nothing, as he was busy biting off a thread.

"Well, what do you say, tailor?" the lord pressed. "Shall we bet?"

The tailor raised his head and looked directly at the lord.

"If you leave now and let me finish the doublet in peace, then yes, we'll bet!"

His answer seemed calm, but the tailor was genuinely agitated.

He was a poor man, used to working for pennies. Spending the night at a cemetery? No big deal! But getting a whole purse of gold for a single pair of trousers? Now that was something to get worked up about.

That very evening, the poor tailor tucked a piece of fabric—enough for a pair of trousers—under his arm, stuffed scissors, thread, needles, and a thimble into his pockets, and headed to the cemetery.

The night was dark and quiet. Not a soul around. But this didn't frighten the tailor; he himself was a dark, quiet man. And he was used to solitude.

Upon reaching the cemetery, he struggled to open the creaky iron gates, which then slammed shut behind him with such a clatter that it could wake the dead. But even this didn't faze the tailor.

He found a comfortable, wide gravestone and sat cross-legged in his tailor's fashion. He placed a lit candle beside him and, without wasting time, began sewing.

He was in a great hurry and never once looked up from the trousers, so he didn't see what was happening around him. It's quite possible that spirits and witches, led by the devil himself, were dancing around him, as the candle flame flickered and dipped from time to time.

But the tailor had no time to look around. And no time to be afraid.

He only raised his head when he made the final stitch and bit off the last thread. He blew out the candle, tucked the trousers under his arm, stuffed the scissors, thread, needles, and thimble back into his pockets, and struggled to his feet—they had gone numb from sitting so long on the hard stone—before hurrying to Saddle Castle.

At the castle, he was not greeted warmly.

"The lord is asleep," they told him.

"Wake him anyway," ordered the tailor. "I've brought him new trousers."

The lord was very surprised to see the tailor unharmed and with new trousers under his arm.

A deal is a deal! But the lord wasn't too keen on keeping his end of the bargain. And so he said:

"Agreed, agreed, the trousers turned out well. But how do I know you sewed them last night, sitting at the cemetery?"

The tailor caught the lord's drift and said:

"Then go to the castle gates, my lord, and see the devil for yourself. He chased me all the way from the cemetery, and I barely managed to slam the gates in his face. Can you hear him making a ruckus out there?"

It was just the strong wind making noise. But the lord didn't feel like going to the gates and preferred to take the tailor's word for it.

"Well done!" he praised the tailor. What else could he do?

And he handed the tailor the hefty purse of gold in exchange for the pair of trousers.

More fairy tales

• The Sorcerer's Apprentice
• The Magic Horn
• Grandmother's Grandfather
• The Fox and the Kestrel
• The Old Woman and the Piglet