The Priest and the Mare

Once upon a time, there lived an old woman who had a son. They lived in extreme poverty, so poor that they didn’t even have a spoon in the house. The time came when the old woman crossed her arms over her chest and passed away. There was nothing to be done—she had to be buried properly, but her poor son could only throw up his hands in despair: he didn’t even have planks to make a coffin. It wasn’t right to leave the deceased on the bench. So, he went out to beg, wandering and wandering, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find anything. With a heavy heart, he went to the priest and told him of his troubles.

“Only on one condition, my son,” said the priest. “You must pay me for the funeral service, so that the Lord may accept the deceased into the ranks of the righteous and blameless.”
“Believe me, Father, my pockets are empty.”
“Well, then, I won’t sing for the repose of her soul until I see the money.”

The young man couldn’t wait any longer and began to plead with the priest. The priest had no choice—he took his Bible and was about to start the service. But as he was leaving the house, he thought to himself: “Surely, I can’t let him get away without giving me a memorial offering and a little money.”

“My son, do you really have nothing at all?”
“Not a single penny, Father.”
“Tsk, what a misfortune. Wait, my boy, we’ll find some money.”
“Where, Father?”
“Go, my dear, to so-and-so—he has a mare. Steal it and take it to the fair. That’s how we’ll get the means to carry the deceased out of the house.”
“I’m afraid, Father, he’ll catch me.”
“Trust me, go ahead.”

Waiting until midnight, they sneaked into the stable, and the young man led the mare to the fair. The priest, however, stayed behind in the stable, put on the bridle, and tied himself to the manger.

In the morning, the owner came to feed the mare, but instead of the nag, he saw the priest. In a panic, he began crossing himself and praying: “Oh, Lord, can’t You see from on high what’s happening on earth—nothing but sorcery and witchcraft! My mare must have been a priest, and I’ve been driving her up and down the hills like cattle.”

He took the bridle off the priest and said:
“Forgive me, Father. Go out into the world, perhaps you’ll find a way to feed yourself. I’ll buy myself another mare.”

The priest, overjoyed, left, while the owner, scraping together some money here and there, went to the fair. Upon arriving, he began looking over the horses, and one mare caught his eye. He approached closer—it was his mare! How could he not recognize her? He leaned in and began whispering into her ear:
“What’s this, Father? Has someone bewitched you again?” The mare just shook her head and twitched her ears. Seeing this, the young man shouted: “Hey, old man, what are you whispering to her?”
“My boy, let the mare go—it’s the priest. He was with me. You must have caught him when he turned back into a mare.”

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The Priest and the Mare

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