The Shepherd's Sheep

Once upon a time, there lived a farmhand. He had served a landowner for many years, and as a reward for his labor, he received a pitiful and miserable lamb—so wretched that one could hardly bear to look at it. The farmhand took the lamb and wandered the wide world, searching for work while grazing the lamb along the roadside, in sparse woods, and by riverbanks. The lamb grew, became strong, and turned as plump as a cucumber. Each day, its curly rings became more golden and more beautiful. Now, the farmhand cared for the lamb with all his heart, feeding and watering it, never taking his eyes off it—it was his only comfort in life.

One day, as he was grazing the lamb by the roadside, he saw royal heralds announcing that the king had a daughter who, in her youth, was deeply sorrowful. No one had yet been able to bring even the faintest shadow of a smile to her face. The king was greatly troubled by this misfortune and suffered day and night. He proclaimed that whoever could make his daughter laugh would receive her hand in marriage and half the kingdom as a dowry. When the farmhand heard this, he thought, "I’ll go to the royal palace and try my luck. Even if I fail, I won’t be the only one." With this thought, he set off on the road to the royal estate. He walked from morning till evening, and as dusk fell, he reached a village and knocked on one gate, asking for shelter for the night. When the gate opened—oh, heavens!—he found himself at the home of a priest. The priest, pretending to be pious, welcomed him with open arms and led him to a room. The priest’s wife and three daughters, however, were disgusted by the sight of the lamb, its golden curls gleaming wherever it went. That night, the priest’s daughters decided that if they couldn’t steal the lamb, they would at least pluck a few golden curls from it. Quietly, on tiptoe, the eldest daughter crept up to the lamb and tried to pull out as many curls as she could, but they wouldn’t budge. She tried to let go, but her hand stuck to the lamb as if glued. She tried to use her other hand, but it too became stuck to the golden fleece. Panic, fear, and trembling overcame her. She tried to pull away, but her hands were firmly attached to the lamb’s wool. Soon, the middle daughter couldn’t resist either and crept up to the lamb, only to suffer the same fate. Finally, the youngest daughter also tried and was caught just like her sisters.

The priest and his wife grew anxious:
"Why are our daughters taking so long? What could have happened?"
The priest’s wife gathered her courage and went to see what was happening in the next room. When she opened the door, she thought her daughters were struggling to pull the wool and grabbed the lamb with both hands. She, too, became stuck. Worried and restless, the priest went to investigate. He opened the door and, thinking to help, grabbed his wife’s shoulders to pull her back—but snap!—he too became stuck to her and their daughters.

They suffered like this all night, worse than caged birds. The next morning, the farmhand rose at sunrise and set off on his journey as planned. The lamb got up too, followed him, and dragged the entire priest’s family along. They stumbled and fell, sometimes crawling on all fours, while the farmhand, walking ahead, paid them no mind and only chuckled to himself. At the edge of the village, a man winnowing grain saw the priest and his family and said to his helper, "Look at that priest—he’s so greedy, he’s trying to steal that lamb too!" In a fit of anger, he struck the priest’s back with a shovel so hard that his bones cracked. Now, this man was also dragged along.

The lamb, chasing after grass, ran along the roadside, through bushes, and the people stuck to it writhed in pain and exhaustion. Finally, they reached the royal palace. The farmhand knocked on the gates and shouted at the top of his voice:
"Open the gates! I’ve brought the priest with me!"

The guards opened the gates, and the king came out to meet him. When he saw the farmhand and the priest’s family, he clutched his sides and burst into uncontrollable laughter, shaking with mirth. It was no joke—it was a spectacle unlike anything anyone had ever seen before or since.

As the farmhand approached the palace, he saw the gloomy princess in an upstairs window—she who had never laughed in her life. When she saw the terrified and bewildered priest, the others clinging to each other, and the lamb, which with every step sent them tumbling to the ground in the most ridiculous way, she couldn’t help herself. She laughed so hard she couldn’t stop. The princess laughed joyously, as if the sun had descended to earth and all the wealth of the world had gathered at the palace. Joy filled the hearts of everyone, especially the king. He summoned the finest musicians, dressed the farmhand in golden robes, betrothed him to his daughter, and threw a wedding the likes of which had never been seen before. I was at that feast, celebrating for weeks and months. In the midst of the merriment, the guests began firing a cannon, and in their carelessness, they loaded me into it instead of a cannonball. They fired, and I flew and flew until I landed right here to tell you this tale of the farmhand and his lamb.

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The Shepherd's Sheep

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