The Power of Filial Love
Long ago, in a village, there lived a wealthy man. He had three sons. As the rich man grew old, he decided to divide his wealth among his sons while he was still alive.One day, he called his sons and said:
— It seems my time to die is near. So, I have decided to give you my wealth now. Divide my fields, the rice in the granaries, and the silk in the chests equally among yourselves. Let none of you know need.
After a pause, he added:
— However, there is also a jug of gold. I don’t know whom to give it to. I want it to go to the one who loves me the most.
— Then the jug of gold rightfully belongs to me, — said the eldest son. — Remember, Father, when you were ill, my wife never left your side and nursed you with herbs. Thanks to us, you recovered.
— No, — interrupted the middle son. — The jug belongs to me. When Father sprained his leg, I carried him on my back. It was no easy burden!
— What are you arguing about, brothers? — the youngest son exclaimed indignantly. — Should we even be thinking about gold when our father is unwell?
A few days passed. The father called his sons again.
— I’ve grown much worse, and it seems I may die soon, — he whispered. — The healer told me there’s only one thing that can save me from death — I must drink mother’s milk.
The brothers were stunned.
— Where will we get it? Our wives do have milk, but they are nursing our children. If they give it to you, our children will starve to death.
The sons left their father’s house and began to discuss:
— I cannot become the murderer of my own child! — cried the eldest.
— Father will die sooner or later anyway, — said the middle son.
— It’s wrong to abandon our father, — the youngest rebuked them. — We can have more children, but we only have one father.
— You must be out of your mind! — the older brothers snapped. — Do as you please!
The youngest brother returned home and told his wife everything. She wept bitterly, then said:
— You’re right. We’ll have to give up our child to save your father. He has done so much good for us in life; now it’s our turn to repay him with kindness.
The youngest son went to his father.
— Don’t grieve, Father, — he said. — You will have mother’s milk. I only ask one thing — show us where to bury our child. It’s not right to wait for him to starve to death.
— Thank you, my son, — the father wept. — You did not spare your own child for the sake of your father. Go with your wife to the edge of the village, near the field where a large pine tree grows. Dig a grave there. But remember, do not harm your child until the grave is ready!
The youngest son wept and went home. He and his wife took a pickaxe and a shovel and went to the large pine tree. As they began to dig the grave, they kept glancing at their child, who was playing happily in the grass.
— I can’t bear this torment any longer! — the wife cried. — Kill me along with the child!
— Wait! — said the husband. — My shovel hit something hard in the ground!
They looked and found a jug of gold. Suddenly, they saw their father standing nearby — alive and well.
— Thank you, my son, for your love, — he said. — I didn’t know whom to give the gold to. Now I see it belongs to you. I pretended to be gravely ill to test you. Take your wife and child and go home.
From that day on, the youngest brother lived in wealth and prosperity.
More fairy tales
