The Merchant's Daughter

Whether it happened or not, there once lived a very wealthy merchant. He had two children—a daughter and a son. Both of them were studying. The daughter was studying in the same city where the merchant lived, while the son was in another. The merchant had a close friend, a holy man, a monk. The merchant loved this monk so much that he wouldn’t even drink a sip of water without him. One day, the merchant decided to go trade in another city, but he had no one to leave his home with. He only had his daughter, and she had blossomed so beautifully that he couldn’t leave her alone either. The merchant called his friend, the monk, and said:

— I don’t know what to do. I need to go trade in such-and-such a city, but who will I leave my daughter and all my wealth with? I sit here as if bound hand and foot, unable to sell or buy anything.

The monk replied:
— What am I here for? Don’t you know the saying, “A brother helps a brother in times of need”? What kind of friend and brother would I be if I couldn’t look after your home and family while you’re away?

The merchant’s heart felt lighter. He embraced the monk and said:
— You are my guardian angel.
He entrusted all his wealth and his beautiful daughter to the monk and set off on his journey with a light heart. All his worries and sorrows were forgotten, as he believed he was leaving everything in the hands of a friend.

Time passed. The monk zealously took care of his friend’s affairs. But most of all, he cared for the merchant’s daughter. He didn’t let her go anywhere, not even to study. He spent entire days with her, teaching her himself.

The girl was in the prime of her beauty, more beautiful than anything else in the world. She was so beautiful, so radiant, that even the devil would break his neck for her.

The monk lost his head over her. It got to the point where he outright told her:
— I love you, I can’t bear it anymore. Whether you want it or not, you must become mine.
But all his pleas, entreaties, and antics were in vain. The girl wouldn’t even look at him, wouldn’t say a kind word in return. She only frowned, lowered her eyes, and remained silent. The monk’s efforts were futile. Realizing that he wouldn’t get anywhere with kindness and pleading, he began to threaten her:
— You don’t want to? Fine, I’ll turn your father and brother against you. You know how much they trust me. You’ll be in trouble.

The poor girl held out and endured for a long time, but the monk frightened and tormented her so much that she finally said, as if she no longer dared to refuse:
— Come on such-and-such a day, at such-and-such a time, to such-and-such a place where there’s a bathhouse—there I’ll agree to everything.

For the monk, it was like Easter had come. On the appointed day, he dressed up and rushed to the bathhouse.
The girl arrived as well, called the bathhouse attendant, whispered something to him, and jingled some gold coins. The attendant gave her a red-hot spit and let her into the bathhouse. As soon as she entered, the monk cried out with joy. The girl also cried out to the monk:
— It’s the devil that’s possessed you. Wait, I’ll brand you with a cross now.
The monk’s skin sizzled on his chest, and the girl, swift as lightning, flew out of the bathhouse.

Time passed, and the monk’s resentment toward the girl burned within him for how cruelly she had treated him. He wrote a letter to his friend: “All my care and efforts have been in vain. Your daughter has forgotten both shame and reason. She is completely lost. Return and take charge of your daughter yourself. She is beyond saving from disgrace, but at least save your wealth, or she’ll give it all away to her lovers.”

The merchant received this letter and clutched his head in despair. He tore at his hair, lamented his fate, mourned his beloved but lost daughter, and grieved for his ruined family. His sorrow knew no bounds.

Without sitting down, the merchant set off for the city where his son lived and studied. He arrived, summoned his son, and said:
— Are you my son?
— That’s what my mother taught me.
— Do you value my fatherhood?
— I’ll prove it with my actions.
— Then go and punish the one who has disgraced our family, tarnished my name—kill her!
With that, he handed him the monk’s letter.

Both the father and the son trusted the monk. It never occurred to either of them that this holy man could slander the poor girl so viciously.

When the son read the monk’s letter, he nearly went mad, almost gnawing at himself in anguish.
— Give me a knife, I’ll destroy my disgraceful sister with my own hands.
The father gave him a dagger and sent him back to their homeland to deal with his sister. The father couldn’t bring himself to stain his hands with his daughter’s blood, but he also couldn’t let her live, fearing that his depraved daughter would shame him before the world.

The son arrived in his homeland at night. He approached the house.
— Open the door.
— Who’s there?—asked the sister.
— It’s me.
— Who are you?
— It’s me, me!
— Is it the monk?
— Hmph!—the brother gritted his teeth.—You’ve completely forgotten shame. It’s me, your brother—open up!

In an instant, the girl jumped up, rushed to the door, and was about to throw herself into her brother’s arms when he pressed a naked dagger to her heart. The sister cried out:
— Oh brother, don’t stain your hands with the blood of your own sister!
The brother restrained himself and only said to her:
— Fine, get dressed and follow me. But don’t say a word to me.
She obeyed. They walked and walked, crossing nine mountains.

The brother brought his sister to the tenth mountain and left her there.

The girl was left alone. Not a soul around, no mercy to be found. She sat and wept, drenched in tears.
The mountains were teeming with wild beasts. The poor girl was terrified, crying, but the animals took pity on her and left her alone, passing by.

She entered a cave and settled there. Her blanket was wild grapevines, and her bedding was green moss.
A week passed, then a month, then a year.

The girl drank from a waterfall and ate wild fruits. The poor thing became wild herself, walking around disheveled and ragged, but she grew even more beautiful and radiant than before.

One day, there was a commotion in the mountains—shouts, noise, and the barking of dogs. It was the son of the local king, out hunting with all his servants. They scoured the mountains, shooting and killing animals. The king’s son saw the girl in the cave, saw her and lost his heart. He had never seen anything more enchanting.

The king’s son stopped and said:
— Tell me, who are you, where are you from? Are you human or a miracle?
— I’m a simple mortal. I don’t even know why I was cast out of my home and abandoned in these lands. People betrayed me, but the beasts spared me and didn’t devour me—they saved my life.
— Who is the cruel one, who is the blind one who betrayed you and left you here alone?
— My own brother.

They started talking, and the girl told him everything.
The king's son looked at her and lost his mind more and more.
— I want to be your friend. Would you like to become my wife and queen in my kingdom?
— Don’t mock me, — said the girl. — How have I earned such happiness when I couldn’t even earn the love of my brother and father?
— I swear by heaven and earth that I will never leave you, never betray you, and any joy without you will be sorrow to me.
— Don’t... I am the daughter of a simple merchant, and you are the son and heir of a king.
— Whoever you are, from now on you are mine, and I will not yield you to anyone as long as I live.

Were more oaths even needed? Even without oaths, the poor girl was happy to trust his royal word, to trust his love and care. And who else could she turn to for protection?
The prince led her home.

The king and queen were delighted by her beauty and didn’t even ask who she was or where she came from; they celebrated the wedding. The young bride gave birth to a son and a daughter.

Yet she grieved and pined. She found no peace when she remembered how the monk had slandered and shamed her before her father and brother. She longed to see her family. Her love for them burned like fire.

One day, she knelt before her husband and pleaded:
— Let me return to my homeland. Allow me to disguise myself as a man and visit my father and brother.

Her husband let her go and even praised her for it.
No sooner said than done. She disguised herself and set off for her homeland, telling her husband:
— I beg you, take our son and daughter and bring them to me by such-and-such a day.

Whether she walked a long way or a short one, she arrived in the city where her father and brother lived, disguised as a man. She walked through the city, approached her father’s house, and stood at the door. Her father didn’t recognize his disguised daughter. Nor did her brother recognize his sister.
— Would you like a clerk? — said the daughter. — Take me, I’m not chasing payment.
— I already have many clerks, — said the merchant.
— No, we’re still short one, — said the son. — Let’s take him; his face shows he’s an honest man.
So they took her on as a clerk.

She endeared herself to her brother with her kind nature and honest work, but most of all with the stories she told, so much so that the brother and the clerk-sister became inseparable. One day, during their free time, the clerk asked her brother:
— Why do you and your father always wear black?
Her brother replied: “I had a sister...”
He told her the story, weeping bitterly. She cried with him.

Their father approached, heard what they were talking about, and also grew sad. They shared their grief and decided it was time to end the mourning—both the father’s for his lost daughter and the brother’s for his ruined sister. They decided to hold a celebration the next day and remove their mourning clothes.

The prince was also supposed to arrive the next day with their son and daughter. The merchant’s house was filled with great joy.
They invited everyone: young and old, rich and poor, and even the family’s best friend—the monk.

In the midst of the celebration, the guests began telling all sorts of tales, stories, fables, and anecdotes. Everyone wanted to stand out.
Then the merchant’s son stood up and said:
— We have a clerk here, and no one tells stories like he does.
Everyone began asking the clerk to tell a heartfelt tale.
— I would tell you a very good story, but I’m afraid you’ll interrupt me and not let me finish. I don’t want to trouble you or myself in vain.
— No, we won’t interrupt, we won’t! — everyone shouted.
— Then if anyone tries to interrupt me, at the first attempt, they must remove their hat and boots; at the second, they’ll be left in their undergarments; and at the third, they’ll have to remove their shirt. Promise to do all this, and I’ll tell the story; otherwise, I won’t say a word.

They swore to fulfill his request, and the clerk began:
— There was once a wealthy merchant. He had two children—a daughter and a son. The merchant conducted trade in various lands, and one day he had to travel far away. He called upon his best friend—his spiritual father—and entrusted him with watching over his daughter and his wealth.
— Lies! — the monk suddenly shouted at the top of his lungs.
— Remove the monk’s hood and boots! — she said. They did as they had promised.
— The monk began to harass the girl, trying to seduce and corrupt her.
— Lies, lies! — the monk bellowed like a bull at slaughter.
— Remove his robe and all his other clothes. The guests rushed at the monk and stripped him as promised.
— He drove the poor girl to such despair that he forced her to go to the bathhouse to...
— Lies, lies! — the monk roared, turning pale.
— Oh, lies? Then remove his shirt and see how she branded him! Look, is there a mark on his chest?

They removed his shirt and were all astonished to see a cross-shaped mark on the monk’s chest. Chaos erupted—shouting, crying, no one knew what to do or think. The father wept:
— Oh, my daughter, my poor daughter! I destroyed an innocent soul, slaughtered, killed her.
And the brother lamented:
— Woe is me! Why was I born into this world? I abandoned my own sister, innocent and pure, in the wild mountains, leaving her to be devoured by wild beasts!
— No, no, don’t cry, don’t despair! — said the clerk. — Wait, a miracle is about to happen!

She threw off her male disguise and said:
— Do you recognize me now?

The father recognized his daughter, and the brother recognized his sister. Just as they were about to rush to her and embrace the wondrous storyteller, the doors opened, and the prince, her husband, appeared with their two beautiful children—a son and a daughter.

They all recognized one another, embraced, and kissed. Their joy and affection knew no bounds. As for the monk, they threw him into a dark dungeon, among filthy vermin and snakes.

Death there, feast here,
Chaff there, flour here.

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The Merchant's Daughter

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