The Beardless Deacon — The Deceiver
Whether it happened or not, there once lived a beardless deacon who was a notorious trickster. Everyone in his village knew what a swindler he was, so life became unbearable for him there. He decided to move somewhere else to seek his fortune. Whether he walked a long time or not, he eventually arrived in a village. There, he learned that a priest lived there who had already fleeced his entire parish. This priest had a daughter. The beardless trickster also discovered that the priest’s previous deacon had recently departed for the land from which no one returns. Immediately, he stopped at the priest’s doorstep, entered his house, and began to spin lies:“Father, holy father, I’ve heard that your deacon’s position has become vacant, so I’ve come from afar to offer my services. Let us get acquainted. I am a deacon by the name of Such-and-Such — Worse Than Such-and-Such. I have a good disposition, and no one knows the Holy Scripture better than I do. Why, you couldn’t find a deacon like me even if you searched with a lantern in broad daylight!”
The priest was delighted. This was exactly the kind of deacon he had been looking for. They agreed on terms, wrote everything down, and submitted it to the village elder for approval. According to their agreement, the priest was to house the deacon, honestly give him a third of all parish income, and share all duties equally with him. The agreement was set for three years, and the priest could not dismiss the deacon before that time unless the deacon himself wished to leave. If the priest tried to expel him, he would have to give the deacon half of the parish and all his property. In return, the deacon was obligated to serve the priest at home and carry out all his instructions.
For the first year, the beardless trickster served honestly, never contradicting the priest. The priest was overjoyed, feeling as if the sun had risen just for him with the deacon by his side. But the deacon was merely biding his time. He had decided to win over the priest’s daughter and spent every waking moment plotting how to get her into his hands.
The deacon schemed and tricked, but nothing worked. He realized that the daughter obeyed only her father, so he devised a cunning plan. One day, he led the priest to a nearby hill to chop firewood. The deacon struck a massive stump with an axe and wedged a wooden wedge into the crack.
“Now, guess how many fingers wide this crack is,” said the beardless trickster to the priest.
“Two fingers, no more,” replied the priest. The deacon jumped up:
“What do you mean, two? It’s four fingers wide, maybe even more! Can’t you see?”
They began to argue, and it soon escalated into a shouting match.
“Let’s measure it, then,” said the priest.
“Fine,” said the deacon.
As soon as the priest inserted his fingers into the crack, the deacon yanked out the wedge, trapping the priest’s fingers. The priest screamed, “Oh, oh, I’m dying, help me!” The deacon pretended to panic and said:
“How can I help you? I could run home and fetch a chisel, but I’m afraid your daughter won’t give it to me without your permission. You’ll have to call out to her yourself.”
The deacon ran home and told the girl:
“Your father commands you to obey me. Some forest creature has caught him and is killing him!” The daughter didn’t believe him.
“My father would never say such a thing.” The deacon grew angry, stood in the doorway, and shouted to the priest:
“I told you she wouldn’t believe me!” The priest shrieked:
“Oh, daughter, save me! Do whatever he asks!”
The daughter, who always obeyed her father, reluctantly agreed and yielded to the deacon. Once the deacon got what he wanted, he took the chisel and trudged back to the hill. He chiseled the stump, freed the priest’s fingers, and led him home half-dead.
When the priest realized what the deacon had done, he couldn’t dismiss him before the three years were up, so he decided to keep quiet.
From then on, the priest kept looking for ways to find fault with the deacon and expel him, but the deacon was no fool—he kept a close eye on everything.
Time passed, and the New Year arrived.
That morning, the priest and the deacon held a grand service in the church. But the day was bitterly cold, and they were frozen to the bone.
After the service, the priest said to the deacon:
“Run ahead and light such a fire that I’ll feel its warmth even at the gate.”
“Right away,” said the deacon, and he ran off. When the priest approached the gate, he was indeed hit by a wave of heat. He looked and saw that the deacon had set the kitchen on fire—it was blazing!
The priest shouted and cursed for a long time, but he was the one who ended up being wrong.
“How else was I supposed to light such a fire that you’d feel the warmth at the gate?” the deacon defended himself. The priest threatened to expel him, but the deacon reminded him of their agreement, and the priest fell silent once more.
The priest and his wife thought long and hard about how to rid themselves of this deacon, but they couldn’t come up with anything. One day, the priest said to the deacon:
“Someone’s stealing our wine. You’ll have to spend the night in the wine cellar and catch the thief.”
“Very well,” said the deacon, and he moved his bedding to the cellar.
When night fell, the priest took a sharp axe, crept into the cellar, and began hacking away at the sleeping deacon with all his might.
Blood gushed out, but it was so dirty that the priest had never seen anything like it. He ran to his wife and cried in panic:
“Wife, help me! I’ve killed that scoundrel, but he’s bled so much that he’s covered me in it. Clean me up quickly before anyone sees!”
His wife was terrified and began cleaning him.
“What kind of blood does this deacon have? It washes off so easily,” she said. The priest snapped:
“What nonsense are you talking? Don’t you know that sinners always have thin blood like this?”
The priest and his wife then discussed what to do:
“When morning comes, start shouting, ‘Help!’” the priest said. “I’ll run to the village elder and report that my deacon has been killed. That way, no one will suspect anything.”
The couple agreed and went to bed, feeling reassured.
Before dawn, the priest rushed to the elder, and his wife began screaming. Everyone came running, but to the priest’s astonishment, the beardless trickster deacon appeared among them. The deacon began boasting about how he had tricked the priest, how he had placed a wineskin full of wine in his bed, how he had hidden in the corner, and how a thief—whose beard suspiciously resembled the priest’s—had crept in, struck the wineskin with an axe, and fled like a madman.
The deacon spread this story far and wide. Everyone laughed and mocked the priest. What could the priest do? He had to beg the deacon for forgiveness. They continued living as before.
Then Easter came. The priest drank too much communion wine and fell into a deep sleep. His wife and daughter went to visit the neighbors. The deacon saw his chance. He took a razor, crept up to the priest, and shaved off half his hair and half his beard. When he finished, he went to visit the neighbors.
When the priest woke up and saw what had happened, he immediately knew who was responsible. Enraged, he grabbed his rifle and ran off to kill the deacon. The deacon saw him and fled, hiding somewhere.
The priest ran around the village, asking everyone he met:
“Have you seen Such-and-Such?”
“No, we haven’t seen anyone like that,” people laughed.
“Well, have you seen Worse Than Such-and-Such?”
“God forbid we see anything worse than a half-shaved priest!” they replied, laughing.
The priest searched the entire village but couldn’t find the deacon—Such-and-Such, Worse Than Such-and-Such.
The next day, the deacon sent messengers to the priest:
“I don’t want to leave you, but if you’re forcing me out, you must give me exactly half of all your property. Otherwise, I won’t forgive you for chasing me with a rifle. And if you don’t fulfill our agreement, I’ll remind you how you tried to kill me in the cellar, and you’ll end up in Siberia.”
The priest was terrified at the thought of ending up in Siberia in his old age. Mediators urged him:
“It’s better to make peace.” The priest relented, saying to himself:
“It seems it’s my fate not to rid myself of this deacon. Let him be the priest of this parish.”
The very next day, the priest married his daughter to the beardless trickster deacon. He wed them and settled them in his own house, transferring all his property and his parish to his son-in-law. The celebration began, and everyone rejoiced that God had sent them such a clever priest for their parish.
They were in mourning, and we were feasting.
I throw you nine apples and nine pomegranates,
Take them all, own them all, for they were won by your hand.
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