Jean the Happy

Once upon a time, in a small village, there lived an orphan named Jean. Life was hard for him, and he often went hungry. One day, he decided to leave for the city, hoping that fortune might smile upon him there.

At first, he hired himself out as a servant to a certain gentleman. Little did Jean know that this gentleman was none other than the devil himself. How could a simple village boy like Jean have known?

Jean served diligently, cleaning his master's clothes, tidying the house, and, most importantly, tending to his horses. The master had two horses: a black stallion and a white mare.

One day, the master decided to travel to a neighboring town on business and gave Jean strict orders: "I may be gone for a day, two days, a week, or even a month. During this time, you must follow my command exactly: feed the black horse oats, and while he eats, whip the white mare. Do not dare disobey me, or you will not leave here alive!"

Jean was puzzled by this strange order, but he feared angering his cruel master. When the time came to feed the horses, Jean poured oats into the black stallion's trough and took up the whip to strike the white mare. But just as he was about to swing, the mare spoke to him in a human voice: "Do not strike me, Jean! Run away from your master as fast as you can. Do you know who he is? He is the devil himself!"

Jean was astonished but did not harm the mare. Instead, he fed her oats as well. After eating, the mare said, "You spared me, Jean, and I will never forget it. Now we must flee. Do not believe that your master will be gone long. He will return today to check if you followed his orders, and then you will be in grave danger. Climb onto my back and take a bag of oats, a brush, and a wet sponge with you."

Jean mounted the white mare, and they were off. They rode for a day, two days, perhaps a week, a month, or even longer. Then the mare said, "Look behind you, Jean. Do you see anything unusual?"

Jean turned and saw black smoke creeping toward them along the ground.

"Black smoke, nothing more," he said.

"Trouble!" exclaimed the mare. "The devil is chasing us and will soon catch up. Quickly, throw the brush on the ground!"

Jean threw the brush, and immediately a dense forest with thorny bushes sprang up behind them. They rode on for another day, two days, perhaps a week, a month, or even longer. Then the mare said again, "Look behind you, Jean. Do you see anything unusual?"

Jean turned and saw not black smoke but red flames racing toward them.

"Fire is chasing us!" he cried.

"Oh, trouble! The devil hasn't given up. He wants to catch and destroy us! Quickly, throw the wet sponge on the ground!"

Jean threw the sponge, and immediately a wide river spread out behind them. The wind rose, waves churned, and the river boiled, threatening to overflow its banks. But the white mare galloped on. They rode for a day, two days, perhaps a week, a month, or even longer. Jean looked back and saw nothing.

"The devil is gone," said the mare. "Now we are free, Jean, and it is time for us to part."

Jean was saddened. He did not want to leave the white mare, and he had no idea where to go in these unfamiliar lands.

"Do not grieve, Jean," said the mare. "You saved me from misfortune, and I will give you happiness. Go down this road alone, and when you reach the count's castle, ask to work as the gardener's assistant. You will see what happens next. But remember: if you are ever in trouble and need my help, just call, 'Come to me, white mare!' and I will come to your aid."

They parted ways, and Jean walked down the road alone. He arrived at the count's castle and, as the mare had advised, hired himself as the gardener's assistant. The count had a beautiful daughter who often walked in the garden. One day, she met Jean there and, of course, fell in love with him, and he with her. In fairy tales, this always happens—what is a story without a maiden and a brave young man?

But the count was not pleased with this love. He had dreamed of a different suitor for his daughter. So he decided to get rid of Jean. He ordered Jean to weed the entire garden and prune all the dry branches from the trees in one day. If he failed, he would have to leave. The garden was vast, with countless trees bearing apples, pears, and plums.

Jean went to the far end of the garden, where the bushes and trees were thickest, and called out loudly, "Come to me, white mare!"

Immediately, the white mare appeared before him, stamping her hoof and snorting steam. Jean told her of his plight, saying he did not want to part with the count's daughter.

"There are harder tasks than this," said the mare, and she told Jean to mount her quickly. "We will ride around the garden three times, and then you can confidently return to the count—not a single weed or dry branch will remain."

Jean did as she said. The count was amazed by his skill and did not send him away. Instead, he gave Jean an even harder task.

"If you are so clever," said the count, "make all my trees bloom again by tomorrow morning. If you fail, you are a poor gardener and must leave."

Jean was terrified, thinking even the white mare could not accomplish such a task, for it was deep autumn, and the first snow had already fallen. Nevertheless, he went to the far end of the garden and called softly, "Come to me, white mare!"

The mare appeared at once. Jean told her of the count's new demand, and once again, the mare helped him. They rode around the garden three times, and Jean returned to his little room. In the morning, he looked out the window—what a miracle! The entire garden was in bloom, and birds flitted among the branches, singing as if spring had arrived. Everyone rejoiced at this new spring—everyone except the count, for it is well known that in spring, not only flowers bloom but love as well. He decided to find a suitor for his daughter quickly, so she would forget about the gardener Jean.

The count announced throughout the neighboring counties that he would marry off his daughter. Whoever wished to win her hand must participate in a tournament. She would go to the one who wounded the count in the right leg.

A strange condition, you might say? But demanding that an apple tree bloom when the apples are already ripe is even stranger! But such was the count—everything he did was peculiar.

On the appointed day, noblemen, counts, viscounts, princes, and barons gathered at the count's castle. Each wanted to win such a beauty, and a wealthy heiress at that.

Only the bride was unhappy. The poor girl knew that a simple gardener would not be allowed to fight in the tournament. Even if he were, where would he get a horse and armor? Would she have to part with her beloved Jean forever?

The trumpets sounded, and all the tournament participants rode onto the field to show off their horses and expensive armor. All the horses were fine, and the armor even finer, but not one of the suitors could get close enough to the count to wound him in the right leg.

"Is there no worthy warrior to deserve my daughter?" the count began to grow angry. Suddenly, a new rider appeared on the field, poorly dressed and riding a lame horse. The count looked closely and recognized his gardener, Jean.

"Out! Out!" shouted the count. "A commoner cannot fight in a noble tournament!"

All the other suitors and spectators shouted at Jean and waved their hands. Poor Jean had to leave the field on his nag.

But in an instant, a new opponent appeared before the count. His horse was black, its eyes blazing with fire, its mane flowing in the wind. The horse's harness and bridle were made of pure silver, and the knight's armor was of red gold. Before the count could recover from his astonishment, the knight rode up on his black horse and pricked the count in the right leg.

With that, the tournament ended. The winner disappeared, and no one saw him again.

The next day, the count invited all the tournament participants to a grand feast. He was eager to find out which nobleman had wounded him and won the right to marry his beautiful daughter. He showed his guests the tip of the sword that had been pulled from his leg. Whoever had a broken sword missing this tip was the winner! But none of the noblemen fit the description.

Then, suddenly, trumpets sounded in the castle courtyard, and who should enter the feast hall but the gardener Jean. He handed the count the tip of the sword and said, "Do you acknowledge me as your daughter's suitor?"

"Out! Out!" shouted the count. But Jean quietly called, "Come to me, white mare!"

Immediately, the white mare appeared before him. Jean took the count's daughter and rode off with her on the mare.

They rode around the county three times, and when they returned, a merry wedding was held.

And that's all? you might ask.

That's all! The more I tell, the more I'll lie. No one paid me to tell you the truth.

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Jean the Happy

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