Dauta and Petrikela

Whether it was or wasn't, in ancient times there lived two men. One was named Datua, the other Petrikele, and both of them were great tricksters.

One day, Datua got a sack, stuffed it tightly with moss, placed some wool on top, and went to sell it. As he was climbing up the slopes of a ridge, he ran into Petrikele. Petrikele also had a large sack on his back, filled with walnut shells, but with real walnuts on top.

"Hello!" shouted Datua.

"Hello!" replied Petrikele.

"Where are you coming from, and where are you headed?"

"Well, I'm carrying walnuts to sell. And where are you coming from, tell me?"

"Brother, I'm carrying wool to sell. But I just had a good idea. There's no benefit for us dragging our loads along such a difficult road back and forth. We'll only wear out our shoes! Let's swap sacks instead: you take the wool to sell in your area, and give me the walnuts—I'll return to my place and sell them."

"That's a clever idea! It's foolish to drag ourselves along such a tough road. Better for us to return to our own places. Here, take my walnuts, and in exchange, give me your sack of wool."

And so, suspecting nothing, the tricksters exchanged sacks, and each went home.

They walked part of the way, and when they could no longer see each other, they stopped and hurriedly opened their sacks. They saw that they had tricked each other!

They grumbled and complained, but there was nothing they could do!

After some time, the tricksters met again. After greeting each other, Datua said to Petrikele:

"I thought I was the only trickster, but it turns out you're no less cunning than me, brother!"

"Of course! Why be surprised, brother? If you can trick, why can't I?"

"Well then, let's become brothers!" "Let's!"

"Neither of us has money, nothing to trade—let's both go work for some wealthy person." "Let it be as you say."

*Chuvyaki* are soft, heel-less shoes.

The tricksters began looking for work.

They walked and walked until they finally heard that an old woman needed two workers. They went to the old woman and asked what kind of work she would give them and how much she would pay.

The old woman said:

"I have a cow and this house. One of you will have to take the cow to pasture with a flute, a *chonguri*, and a drum, because my cow loves to dance to music. The other will work at home: sweep the floors, keep things clean, and take the trash far away. I'll feed you and pay you. If you agree, you can start working for me."

"Why wouldn't we agree? We agree!" Datua and Petrikele replied in unison.

The next day, Petrikele stayed home to do the housework, while Datua took bread, a drum, a flute, and a *chonguri* and drove the cow to pasture.

Petrikele half-heartedly swept the corners, tidied up, gathered the trash into a pile, but was too lazy to take it far from the house—he decided to dump it in the neighbor's yard.

Just as he was about to dump the trash, the owners of that yard pounced on him and beat him badly, saying:

"Don't you dare dump your trash in our yard again! Don't you dare!"

Petrikele returned covered in bruises and collapsed in the barn.

"Well," he thought, "apparently, the neighbor's yard isn't for dumping trash!"

Datua the trickster didn't fare much better: as soon as his cow reached the pasture, it began running and jumping across the field from end to end, and it kept this up until evening, never giving its legs a rest.

And Datua didn't give his legs a rest either: he ran after the cow, strumming the *chonguri*, blowing the flute, and beating the drum with all his might...

Only late in the evening did the cow stop jumping and return home. Datua followed, so exhausted from running that he couldn't even eat. He went into the barn and asked Petrikele:

"What's wrong, brother? Are you sick?"

"Why do you think I'm sick?"

*A flute, chonguri, and drum are Georgian folk musical instruments.*

"Then why are you lying down?"

"Well, I swept the house, the yard, and the barn, and dumped the trash in the neighbor's yard. When the neighbors saw me, they invited me over, sat me down at the table, and treated me well. I got tired from all the hospitality, and the wine made my head spin a bit. Tell me, how was your day?"

"Not bad either! I got to the field, beat the drum, plucked the strings of the *chonguri*, and blew the flute. Then my cow started dancing the *lezginka* (a Caucasian dance). A whole crowd of men and women gathered to celebrate with us. Can you believe it—I brought the bread back home and forgot to eat!"

"Well, brother, if that's the case, tomorrow I'll take the cow to pasture, and you can enjoy the feast at our neighbors'!"

"Let it be as you say—I don't want to offend you by refusing," said Datua.

The next day, Petrikele experienced the same thing as Datua: the cow made him run all day without a break. And Datua got the same treatment as Petrikele: the neighbors beat him so badly that he barely made it back to the barn.

That night, they confessed their tricks to each other and began to discuss their situation.

"If we don't run away from here," they said, "we'll either starve to death or die from beatings."

Datua and Petrikele decided to flee without delay. But the problem was that in the evenings, the old woman locked the doors from the outside, making it impossible to leave. Petrikele said:

"Here's what we'll do: we'll pack our belongings into a sack. One of us will give the other a boost to climb through a gap in the barn's roof. From there, we can lower a rope and pull up the sack with our belongings and the one who stays behind."

"That's a brilliant idea!" Datua approved. "I'm stronger than you and can easily lift both the sack and you out of the barn."

Petrikele immediately offered his back, and Datua climbed onto the roof.

Then Petrikele packed their belongings into the sack, climbed into it himself, and shouted up:

"Hey, friend! Pull up our stuff and lower the rope back down!"

Datua hauled the sack up, slung it over his back, and started running, not caring at all about his friend.

He ran a long way, got tired, wanted to rest, and threw the sack onto some stones.

"Be careful, you devil! That hurt!" shouted Petrikele, climbing out of the sack.

"You're the devil! Do you know how much my back hurts from carrying you?"

"Well, how is it my fault? If we hadn't tricked each other, neither our backs nor our sides would hurt," said Petrikele.

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Dauta and Petrikela

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