The Restless Rooster

Once upon a time, on the edge of a poor village, there stood a farm, as poor as the village itself. And on this farm lived a skinny but incredibly proud rooster. He was skinny because he didn’t get to fill his crop every day, and as for his pride—well, that was just his nature. Rarely, very rarely, did he manage to sneak into the owner’s garden and feast on caterpillars, worms, snails, or just some green grass. But as soon as the mistress noticed him in the garden, she would chase him away. And so the rooster would return to the yard, offended but unyielding.

However, even in the yard, he had his solace—a large dung heap where he would find his sustenance. What else could he do? He had to feed himself. So he spent his days trampling on that heap, digging and scratching, searching for something to peck at.

One day, while digging in the heap, the rooster suddenly found a tightly stuffed purse beneath the rotten leaves. He quickly realized that this purse was a treasure, and forgetting everything in the world, even his hunger, he immediately began counting the golden écus. There were exactly one hundred coins in the purse. Overwhelmed with joy, he proudly puffed out his chest, crowed loudly for the whole village to hear, and ran as fast as he could to announce his good fortune to the village roosters and hens.

At that very moment, the king was passing by the road with his entourage. He heard the rooster’s loud, ringing crow and asked what had happened. His servants told him about the lucky rooster and the hundred golden écus. The king pondered: how could he get his hands on them? After all, he was deeply in debt. After some thought, he called the rooster over and said:

"Listen, my friend, lend me your hundred écus. I’ll return them to you in exactly three months."

"With pleasure, Your Majesty!" the rooster bowed. "Just pay the interest."

"Of course! You’ll get both the money and the interest on the appointed day. I give you my royal word," the king assured the rooster and, taking the hundred golden écus, rode off to his royal castle.

Well, the rooster returned to his dung heap in the yard.

Three months passed. The rooster continued digging in the dreary heap, crowing loudly for all to hear, and waiting impatiently for the king-debtor. But, as if on purpose, there was no word from the king. "He must be busy with other matters," thought the rooster. "He has plenty to do. I’ll wait a little longer; it’s not urgent for me."

But when four months passed and the king still hadn’t sent any news, the rooster began to worry. He took a sheet of paper, plucked the finest feather from his tail, sharpened it, and wrote a letter to the king:

"Cock-a-doodle-doo! Cock-a-doodle-doo! Return, O king, the debt to the rooster!"

Days passed, weeks flew by, but there was no answer from the king. The rooster wrote another letter... and another, but all in vain: the king remained silent, and so did his courtiers.

Then one morning, our restless rooster flew up onto the fence and boldly announced to everyone:

"I’m off to the king to claim my hard-earned money. The king must return it to me, with interest. He gave me his royal word."

The rooster cleaned his feathers, rinsed his beak in a puddle, scraped the dirt off his spurs, slung a bag over his back, and set off straight for the royal castle.

On the way, he met a wolf, who asked:

"Where are you off to so early, my friend?"

"Where else? I’m going to the king to claim my hundred écus."

"Maybe you’ll take me with you? The road is long, and I’ll keep you company."

"Why not? It’ll be more fun together. Hop into my bag!"

The wolf climbed into the bag, and the rooster continued on his way. Suddenly, he came across a fox.

"Hello, rooster! Where are you off to so early?"

"Hello, cousin fox! I’m going to the king to claim my hundred écus."

"Oh, how interesting!" whined the fox. "You’re so lucky, rooster, to see the king himself! I’ve never had the chance... Take me with you, friend. At least I’ll get to see his royal majesty."

"If you want, climb into the bag. But be warned: the wolf is already in there. Try not to fight."

"Don’t worry, friend! The wolf and I are old pals. We have nothing to fight over."

The rooster continued on his way, singing songs and groaning a little—after all, carrying a wolf and a fox was no easy task! Suddenly, he heard:

"Caw... caw... Where are you headed, rooster?"

The rooster looked up and saw an old crow perched on a branch. How could he not answer a fellow bird? So the rooster said:

"I’m off to the king to claim my hundred écus."

"Caw, to the king," cawed the crow. "Take me with you. Maybe I’ll be of use to you there."

"If you’re not afraid of the wolf and the fox, climb into my bag."

"I’m not afraid of them; we live together in the forest and peck at the same food."

The crow dove into the bag, and laughter erupted from within. But the rooster wasn’t laughing. He walked with the heavy bag on his back, wondering and guessing: would the king return his money or not? Would he or wouldn’t he?

The rooster approached the royal castle and saw the gates wide open, with guards standing at the entrance. He puffed out his chest, lifted his head high, and marched proudly past the guards. They didn’t even think to ask him why he was going to the king—he looked so proud and unapproachable!

And so the rooster reached the royal chambers. He arrived and let out a loud crow:

"Cock-a-doodle-doo! Cock-a-doodle-doo! Return, O king, the debt to the rooster!"

The king heard the rooster’s crow, got angry, and quickly ordered:

"Hey, servants, grab that scoundrel and throw him into the henhouse! Let him fatten up on royal feed, and then roast him and serve him at my table!"

So much for the king’s honest word! No money, no interest, and the poor rooster’s life hung by a thread.

Before the rooster could blink, the king’s servants pounced on him, grabbed him, and threw him into the henhouse along with his bag. But the rooster didn’t lose heart: he jumped to his feet, shook himself off, let out a battle cry, and began to inspect his new acquaintances. But there was nothing to inspect: the henhouse was filled with important royal roosters and hens, and there was no one to talk to. They looked at the skinny rooster with contempt, whispered among themselves—clearly, he didn’t belong there!—and began pecking at him wherever they could. The poor rooster couldn’t take it anymore! He endured and endured, but when his patience ran out, he called out loudly:

"Fox, dear cousin, come out of the bag!"

Out jumped the fox, her teeth chattering and her eyes gleaming with hunger! The roosters and hens saw the terrifying fox and scattered in all directions.

In the morning, the servants opened the henhouse and gasped: the henhouse was empty, except for the skinny rooster. They ran to the palace and told the king about the strange news, to which he replied:

"That scoundrel rooster! Throw him into my sheepfold!"

The servants hurried to carry out the king’s order: they grabbed the rooster and threw him into the sheepfold. The sheep saw the rooster, got angry, stamped their hooves, and nearly trampled the poor thing. The rooster decided his time had come and, in despair, cried out:

"Cock-a-doodle-doo! Cock-a-doodle-doo! Help, gray wolf, your friend the rooster!"

Out jumped the wolf from the bag, shook himself, and got to work: he quickly scared off all the sheep. In their panic, they smashed the gates with their heads and ran off in all directions.

Early in the morning, the king himself hurried to the sheepfold. He saw the gates wide open, and not a single sheep inside! Furious, he spat on the ground, and the rooster crowed again:

"Cock-a-doodle-doo! Cock-a-doodle-doo! Return, O king, the debt to the rooster!"

The king flew into a rage and ordered:

"Hey, servants, pluck that rooster until not a single feather remains!"

Now it was no time for jokes for the rooster. He flew up to the highest perch and cried out:

"Cock-a-doodle-doo! Cock-a-doodle-doo! Help, crow, your friend the rooster!"

The crow didn’t keep him waiting. He flew out of the bag, flapped his wings, and landed on the king’s head—ready to peck him right on the crown. The king got scared and begged:

"Don’t touch me, you rascal!"

"Ah, so I’m the rascal? Caw...rrr!" the crow got angry. "Give the rooster his hundred golden écus!" And he pecked the king on the head.

"Ow, ow, ow!" the king wailed. "I’ll give it, I’ll give it all!" And he ordered his treasurer to count out a hundred golden écus for the rooster right away.

The rooster received his hundred écus and, in his joy, even forgot about the interest. Such things happen!

The rooster crowed his "cock-a-doodle-doo," clutched the purse of coins in his beak, and walked through the castle gates ahead of his friends and helpers.

When they were all on the road, the crow suddenly said:

"Caw...rrr! Listen, friend, it wouldn’t hurt to reward us. So give me ten écus for my faithful service."

But for some reason, the rooster didn’t hear him. He walked on ahead, not even turning to look at the crow. The crow glanced at the rooster once more, chuckled to himself, and flew away.

Now, you’re probably dissatisfied: after all, the rooster wronged the crow. And the fox, and the wolf. Ah, what can you say? You’re absolutely right. But tell me honestly: is justice such a frequent guest in our lives?

And here’s another interesting question: what would you have done in his place?

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The Restless Rooster

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