The Treasure
In a certain kingdom, there once lived an old man and his wife in great poverty.Not much time passed before the old woman died. It was a harsh, frosty winter.
The old man went to his neighbors and acquaintances, asking for help to dig a grave for his wife. But both neighbors and acquaintances, knowing his extreme poverty, all flatly refused.
The old man went to the priest. In their village, the priest was terribly greedy and unscrupulous.
"Please, Father," he said, "help bury my old woman."
"Do you have money to pay for the funeral? Give it to me first, my dear..."
"I won't lie to you, Father: I don't have a single penny in the house. Wait a little, I'll earn it—I'll pay you back with interest. I swear I will."
The priest didn’t want to listen to the old man’s pleas:
"If you don’t have money, don’t you dare come here!"
"What should I do?" thought the old man. "I’ll go to the cemetery, dig a grave somehow, and bury my wife myself."
So he took an axe and a shovel and went to the cemetery. He arrived and started preparing the grave: he chopped away the frozen earth with the axe, then took up the shovel. He dug and dug, and eventually unearthed a pot. He looked inside—it was full to the brim with gold coins, shining like fire!
The old man was overjoyed:
"Thank the Lord! Now I have enough to bury my wife and hold a memorial!"
He stopped digging the grave, took the pot of gold, and carried it home.
Well, with money, as you know, everything went smoothly! Immediately, kind people appeared: they dug the grave and made a coffin. The old man sent his daughter-in-law to buy wine, food, and various snacks—everything needed for the memorial. And he himself took a gold coin and went back to the priest.
As soon as he entered the door, the priest scolded him:
"I told you clearly, you old devil, not to come without money, and here you are again!"
"Don’t be angry, Father," the old man pleaded. "Here’s a gold coin—please bury my old woman. I’ll never forget your kindness."
The priest took the money and didn’t know how to treat the old man, where to seat him, or what kind words to say:
"Well, old man, rest assured, everything will be done."
The old man bowed and went home, while the priest and his wife began talking about him:
"Look at that old devil!" they said. "Poor as a church mouse, and yet he handed over a gold coin. I’ve buried many wealthy people in my time, but I’ve never received so much from anyone."
The priest gathered his assistants and buried the old woman properly.
After the funeral, the old man invited the priest to his home to honor the deceased.
They entered the hut, sat down at the table, and—lo and behold!—there was wine, food, and all sorts of snacks, plenty of everything.
The guests ate their fill, feasting on someone else’s wealth.
After the meal, the guests began to leave. The priest stood up, and the old man went to see him off. As soon as they stepped outside, the priest, seeing that no one else was around, began questioning the old man:
"Listen, my dear, confess to me, don’t leave a single sin on your soul—just as before God, so before me: how did you manage to recover so quickly? You were a poor man, and now—look at you! Where did all this come from? Confess, my dear, whose soul have you ruined, whom have you robbed?"
"What are you saying, Father! I swear to you, I haven’t stolen, robbed, or killed anyone. The treasure fell into my hands by itself."
And he told the whole story.
When the priest heard this, he trembled with greed. He returned home and did nothing but think day and night:
"Such a wretched peasant got his hands on such a fortune! How can I trick him out of that pot of gold?"
He told his wife about it, and they began to plot together. They came up with a plan:
"Listen, dear, we have a goat, don’t we?"
"Yes, we do."
"Good! We’ll wait until nightfall and handle this as it should be."
Late in the evening, the priest dragged the goat into the house, slaughtered it, and skinned it completely, leaving the horns and beard intact. He immediately pulled the goat’s skin over himself and said to his wife:
"Take a needle and thread, dear, and sew the skin around me so it doesn’t fall off."
The priest’s wife took a thick needle and coarse thread and sewed the goat’s skin onto him.
At the stroke of midnight, the priest went straight to the old man’s hut. He approached the window and began knocking and scratching.
The old man heard the noise, jumped up, and asked:
"Who’s there?"
"The devil."
"This is holy ground!" the old man cried out, making the sign of the cross and reciting prayers.
"Listen, old man," said the priest, "you won’t get rid of me, no matter how much you pray or cross yourself. Better give me back my pot of money, or I’ll deal with you. I pitied you in your sorrow, showed you the treasure—I thought you’d take a little for the funeral, but you grabbed it all!"
The old man looked out the window—there were goat horns and a beard sticking out; it was the devil himself.
"To hell with him and the money," thought the old man. "I lived without money before, and I’ll live without it again!"
He fetched the pot of gold, carried it outside, threw it on the ground, and hurried back into the house.
The priest grabbed the pot and ran home.
He returned and said:
"Well, the money is in our hands now. Here, dear, hide it away and take a sharp knife, cut the threads, and remove the goat’s skin from me before anyone sees."
The priest’s wife took the knife and began cutting the threads along the seam—but blood started pouring out, and the priest screamed:
"Wife, it hurts, don’t cut! Wife, it hurts, don’t cut!..."
She tried cutting in another place—the same thing happened. The goat’s skin had grown into his flesh.
They tried everything, even returning the money to the old man—but nothing helped. The goat’s skin remained on the priest forever.
More fairy tales
