The Royal Falcon

This story was told to me by a peasant over a glass of good wine. He had heard it from his grandfather, who had heard it from his own grandfather. And as for where that grandfather had heard it, no one knows. Maybe it happened to him, or maybe to his brother, or maybe to a neighbor. But it doesn’t matter! The story is quite fascinating. If you’d like, listen.

Once upon a time, there lived a king who had a beloved falcon. The king loved the falcon for its strong wings, sharp eyes, and powerful talons. For three years, the falcon served its master and never returned without prey. For this, the king hung a small bell around its neck, half made of gold and half of silver. Whenever the bird turned its head, the bell would ring, sometimes with a golden chime, sometimes with a silver one.

One day, the king wanted to take a break from his royal duties. So he went hunting. The falcon, as always, sat perched on his outstretched finger. The king rode out to a flat field and released the falcon. The first time, the falcon brought back a quail. The second time, it brought a partridge. But the third time, it flew up and never returned. Perhaps the bird remembered its free life, or perhaps it chased a swift dove and flew far away. Whatever the case, the king had to return to his castle without his beloved falcon.

The king sent seven squires to search for the bird.

They searched for seven days, and on the eighth day, they returned empty-handed. Then the king ordered his heralds to announce throughout the kingdom: whoever finds the falcon and brings it to the royal castle will receive a reward of two hundred gold florins, but whoever finds the falcon and hides it will also receive a reward—a noose around their neck.

While the king grieved for his beloved bird and the heralds rode from one end of the kingdom to the other, the falcon flew to distant mountains and landed on a tree.

And as luck would have it, a peasant happened to be plowing his field not far from that tree. He was either the grandfather of the grandfather who told me this story, or the brother of the grandfather, or a neighbor. He walked along the furrow behind his donkey, harnessed to a plow, and talked aloud to himself.

The peasant had a wife and two daughters. When there are three women in a house, it’s better for the man to stay silent. Words pour out of women like chaff from a torn sack. You can’t outshout them. And to make matters worse, the peasant himself loved to talk. So he had to vent his soul in the field, either to himself or to his little donkey.

“Lucky you, long-ears,” he mused, “you have no worries. But I have to find husbands for two daughters. They’re quiet, modest girls—they only start fights ten times a day. But these days, suitors are too picky. If there’s no beauty, they demand a dowry, and where am I supposed to get that dowry?”

Suddenly, the peasant heard a faint ringing. He turned and saw a bird on the tree. The peasant raised his hand and jokingly beckoned the bird with his finger. To his surprise, the bird spread its wide wings and flew down to perch on his finger, the bell jingling.

“Well,” said the peasant, “you’re no ordinary bird. I doubt anyone would hang golden trinkets around my hardworking donkey’s neck.”

Then he looked closer and noticed a finely carved crown on the bell.

“We’ve heard of such a hat. It doesn’t keep you warm in winter or shield you from the sun in summer. And once someone puts it on their head, they never want to take it off. Sure, sometimes they lose it, but usually along with their head. Well, it’s better not to talk about that. Anyway, bird, I recognize you. You’re the falcon the herald announced in the village square a week ago. And it’s quite fortunate that you’ve fallen into my hands!”

With these words, the peasant headed home, carrying the falcon on his finger.

“Well, daughters,” he said, “here’s your dowry,” and he showed them the bird.

“Father, you must be joking!” the daughters grumbled. “You’re offering us some bird that’s not even worth a good chicken.”

“You don’t understand anything,” said the peasant. He turned and called to his wife, “Hey, wife, pack your husband for a journey! I’m going to the royal palace, and the road is long. Give me three flatbreads, three olives, and three onions.”

While his wife packed the three flatbreads, three olives, and three onions into an oat sack, the peasant took the halter off his donkey, tied one end around the falcon’s leg and the other around his hand. Then he slung the sack over his shoulder and set off.

One day passed, then two, and on the third day, he arrived at the royal palace.

In a peasant’s hut, the doors are always wide open—just step over the threshold, and you’re in. But in the royal palace, there are stone walls and iron gates always locked. This didn’t faze the peasant. He walked up and started kicking the gate with his foot because his hands were busy—one holding the sack, the other holding the falcon.

The gates swung open, and the peasant was about to enter, but no such luck. Two guards blocked his path with long spears, while a third rang a bell as if signaling a fire. Then a fat captain of the guard ran out of the palace and began interrogating the peasant.

“Where do you think you’re going, country bumpkin?”

“I’m going to see the king,” replied the peasant.

“And what’s that on your hand?”

“A falcon.”

The captain of the guard, of course, immediately recognized the bird, but he quickly realized there was an opportunity to profit.

“A falcon is a falcon, but whose falcon is it?” he asked.

“The king’s,” said the peasant.

“Ah, you scoundrel!” shouted the captain. “Do you know that the king has been so distraught over his beloved falcon that he hasn’t eaten or slept? Finally, I’ve caught you, you shameless thief. Hey, guards of the right gate, do your duty!”

The guards dragged the peasant to the right, and he saw a gallows with a noose ready and waiting.

“Goodness, they might really hang me!” thought the poor man, and he shouted, “Have you all gone mad? Since when does a thief bring stolen goods back to the owner?”

“Wait with the hanging,” ordered the captain. “So you’re saying you brought this falcon to the king?”

“Of course, to the king,” replied the relieved peasant.

“Well then, give it to me,” said the fat captain, “and I’ll take it to the king.”

“Oh no! The falcon is mine!”

“Ah, yours!” shouted the captain again. “So you’re trying to hide the king’s bird after all. Guards of the left gate, do your duty!”

The peasant was seized again and dragged to the left. There, too, stood a gallows, apparently the sister of the one on the right. The peasant liked this one no better than the first. So he broke free from the guards and ran up to the captain.

“Kind sir,” he said, bowing low. “I’d rather not dangle between heaven and earth. Can’t we come to some other arrangement?”

This was exactly what the captain wanted. He twirled his mustache and said importantly, “The king’s service is no joke. Whatever happens, the captain of the guard is responsible. I’m not keen on losing my head for nothing either.”

“Why for nothing, sir captain?” said the peasant.

“Now that’s a different conversation. Very well, let’s go to the king together. But remember, the deal is this: we caught the falcon together. And if it’s together, then the reward is for both of us.”

“Fine by me,” said the peasant. “Let’s go to the king.”

The king even jumped up from his throne when he saw his beloved falcon. The peasant unwound the donkey’s halter, and the falcon flew from his finger to the king’s. Then the king asked, “Who caught it?”

“I…” began the peasant, “and… him too.”

“Yes, me too,” chimed in the captain.

“But who saw my falcon first?”

“Well, I saw it first,” replied the peasant. “But since we caught it together, whatever Your Majesty grants should be split equally. I only ask one thing—don’t give us the reward in gold coins.”

“Then what?” asked the king.

“I’d like to receive lashes. And I think fifty lashes each would be just right.”

The king was very surprised. But a king isn’t supposed to show surprise. He called the court executioner and ordered fifty lashes for each.

The peasant offered his back willingly and looked quite pleased. But the captain had to be dragged to the executioner by six servants because his legs were buckling from fear.

Meanwhile, the king was dying of curiosity, and since a king is still human, he couldn’t resist and ordered the peasant brought to him.

“Now that you’ve both received what you asked for,” said the king, “explain to me why you chose such a strange reward.”

“Because we both deserved it,” the peasant began to explain. “I deserved it for letting myself be fooled, and the captain of your guard deserved it for fooling me.”

“How so?”

Then the peasant told the whole truth.

“Of course,” he added, “I would’ve preferred something else, especially since I’m a poor farmer with two daughters to marry off. And a beaten back isn’t much of a dowry. But I’m a fair man, and I thought: let each get what they’ve earned.”

The king burst out laughing. Then he said, “Well, I’m also a fair man. So I’ll decide differently. I’ll order my captain of the guard to receive fifty more lashes. And you, take this purse. It contains exactly two hundred gold coins. That should make a fine dowry for your daughters.”

“Well, if that’s the case, I’ll run and tell them the good news,” said the peasant. He took the purse, bowed to the king, and set off on his way back, singing merrily.

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The Royal Falcon

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