The Grain-Grower

Once there lived a wealthy lord, so rich that he could buy a dozen villages. He owned vast lands, but no matter how hard he searched, he couldn’t find a single person who truly knew the art of farming. One day, a peasant came to him and said:

- I know how to plow the land, sow grain, and I will serve you faithfully. Hire me, my lord!

The lord agreed. The farmer served for five years, and under his care, the crops were so bountiful that there were none better. At the end of the fifth year, the farmer said to the lord:

- I’ve worked for you long enough, my lord. Now, give me my due, and I’ll be on my way.

The lord didn’t want to lose such a valuable peasant. After some thought, he said:

- What shall I pay you for your service, good man?

- Give me that white horse over there, my lord.

The lord agreed. That horse was no ordinary steed—when it charged into battle amidst enemies, it trampled them all, and neither bullets nor swords could harm it. But only the farmer knew this. The farmer took the horse, thanked the lord, and rode away. He rode and rode until he entered a vast, dark forest. There, he spotted a small hut. He entered and saw an old, withered woman sitting inside. He asked her where he had ended up. The old woman shook her head and replied:

- Unfortunate soul, you’ve come to a cursed place. Every night, witches gather here, and they’re determined to destroy me.

- Well, what will be, will be! - replied the farmer, and he stayed in the hut.

The old woman gave him supper and pleaded:

- Help me, good man. Stay here for three nights, and I’ll reward you well. I’ll also teach you how to defend yourself.

- Very well, teach me, and I’ll stay, - agreed the farmer.

The old woman said:

- Take this cross, go into the next room, draw a circle around yourself with it, then hold the cross in your hands and sit still. If the witches come, don’t be afraid.

The farmer took the cross, did as he was told, and sat down. Suddenly, a loud noise erupted above the hut, and witches began flying in—one after another, until the hut was filled to the brim. They danced, screamed, clapped their hands, and ran around the farmer, but they couldn’t cross the circle. Whenever a witch tried to charge at him, she’d bounce back. No matter what they did, they couldn’t break through. Then, the old woman’s rooster crowed: “Cock-a-doodle-doo!” The witches fled through the windows, shaking the hut. The farmer crossed himself and went back to the old woman. She was overjoyed:

- You’re a fortunate man. It seems you’ve sinned little, for the witches fear you.

- Well, I’ve worked honestly, sowed grain, and served the lord. Maybe I’ve sinned a bit, but may God forgive me!

The farmer stayed for two more nights. After the third night, the old woman said:

- Thank you, good man, for saving me from great trouble. It’s harder for me here, for I’ve sinned more. Take this self-fighting sword, and if you ever go to war, just say, “Self-fighting sword, strike!” and it will slay the entire army. I also advise you: when you marry, don’t trust your wife with any important secrets for seven years and seven weeks.

The farmer bowed to the old woman, thanked her, and rode on. He arrived in a city where the king lived, and there was great turmoil: a mighty enemy was advancing, having already defeated the king’s army and threatening to take the city. The farmer said:

- Take me to the king! They led him there.

- What do you want? - asked the king.

- I hear a great enemy is attacking the city.

- Yes.

- If God wills it, I’ll defeat them. But what will you give me in return?

- Half my kingdom.

- No, I don’t need a kingdom. Give me your daughter’s hand in marriage—I love her!

The king called his daughter and asked if she truly loved the farmer.

- Father, dearest! Let me marry him. I love him, and I’ll pray for you! The king agreed. Then the farmer said:

- Give my horse three measures of oats and a bucket of wine. The king provided everything. The farmer mounted his horse and rode out. Beyond the city, he saw an enormous enemy force, too vast to count. He shouted:

- Self-fighting sword, strike!

The sword flew into the air and began cutting down the enemy, one after another. The horse charged through the ranks, trampling them. The entire army was defeated.

The farmer returned to the city, and the king thanked him profusely. But the enemy didn’t give up—they gathered an even larger army. Once again, the farmer rode out and defeated them. Other kings grew envious and joined forces to attack. The king feared this army would be too much, but the farmer crushed them as well.

Afterward, he returned to the city and married the king’s daughter. He loved his wife dearly, and she loved him. Three years passed. The wife began asking how he defeated their enemies. Unable to resist, the farmer told her. Meanwhile, the enemy bribed her to reveal her husband’s secret. Tempted by wealth, she stole the self-fighting sword and gave it to the enemy, replacing it with a fake. She couldn’t steal the horse, though—the farmer guarded it like his own eyes, even sleeping beside it.

The enemy attacked again.

The farmer mounted his horse, took the sword, and rode out. He shouted:

- Self-fighting sword, strike! Nothing happened.

- Self-fighting sword, strike!

Still, nothing. The farmer was puzzled, but when he examined the sword, he realized it was a fake. He wept bitterly, understanding what had happened. But there was no time—the enemy’s self-fighting sword was already cutting down his troops. The sword flew at the farmer and beheaded him in one stroke. Enraged, the horse went wild, trampling the enemy army before standing by its master’s body. The king had the body brought back to the city for burial, but an old woman with an icon appeared and said:

- Let me see the farmer’s body.

They allowed her. She dipped the icon in water and sprinkled it over the farmer. He came back to life. The old woman said:

- You didn’t listen to me. You told your wife the great secret and nearly perished forever. Take the sword back—I found it. But don’t reveal the great secret to your wife for seven years and seven weeks, or you’ll perish!

Later, the farmer married another woman, and they lived happily ever after. They lived without sorrow, without suffering, and never had to buy bread. And that’s the end of the tale.

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The Grain-Grower

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