Fairy Tale About a Prince and Three Journeymen
By V. ŘÍHA.
Behind a small village met three journeymen; a tailor, a shoemaker and a blacksmith. All day they went about the village begging and spent all they received for meals and drinks. Then in the twilight they set forth along the road toward the woods. “And who are you, comrades,” asked the blacksmith. “I am a journeyman blacksmith, but I know a trick besides.” He was very strong, had a leathern bundle and a leathern apron.
“I am a tailor,” said the man with a beard; he carried a small green bundle. “And even though I am of a slender body, I also know a trick besides.”
“And so do I,” growled the shoemaker who was very fat and sweating. “And I am a shoemaker.”
“Let us journey together,” the blacksmith spoke. “And why should we bother long about the night lodging? It is a fine, warm evening, and the sun is already setting; let us stay in the woods, make a fire, tell some good stories and then sleep soundly under the open sky.”
Said, done. They reached the pine forest which was still warm from the sun’s rays, found a spot aside from the road, spread their bundles on the grey moss and made preparations for the night. The prudent tailor took out some potatoes which he had gathered on the way and cleared the place where the fire was to be built of underbrush and moss, that the forest might not be set afire. The choleric shoemaker grumbled that they would be full of bugs and ants and kept shaking his blanket; then he filled his pipe with cherryleaves mixed with tobacco. The blacksmith located in his breastpocket salt wrapped in paper, got some bacon from his knapsack, and then proceeded to gather sticks for firewood. He sought only resinous twigs from the crooked pines which were already half dried and would burn well. Then he pulled out a cheap knife and a tinder-box, put the tinder under the small, dry twigs, and when the fire had a good start and transformed itself into a stinging smoke which rolled under the pine branches, the three journeymen took their seats around the fire.
The tailor brought out a slender cigarette, the shoemaker impatiently stirred about the potatoes in the live coals and angrily puffed at his small pipe. The blacksmith cleaned thoroughly his capacious meerschaum, filled and stuffed it, laid a live coal on the tobacco, and soon the smoke was ascending like a cloud to the pine tops.
“Well, pals,” he said, “let us not sit like this; let us talk about something. It is too early to sleep. Every one knows some story and we can make the time pass pleasantly.”
As he said that the silence of the wood was broken by the sound of cracking twigs. Somebody was walking in the direction of their fire. Soon they distinguished a tall man approaching. He came to the fire, bade them “Good evening” and begged permission to join them. The shoemaker muttered something unintelligible, but the blacksmith answered kindly:
“Come nearer, friend, come nearer and sit down. There is room enough for all.”
When the stranger had seated himself, all remained silent for a while and looked him over. He was a handsome man, clad in fine clothes, wearing good, uncobbled shoes, and carrying a soft bundle lined with deer-skin and a silver-mounted cane. They did not talk much. When the potatoes were done, they offered some to the stranger and than ate in silence ,the shoemaker the most of all. After a while the blacksmith said:
“Where do you come from, young man, if I may ask? What is your trade? We three are comrades: this one is tailor, this man is shoemaker and I am blacksmith. But we each know a trick besides.”
“I am a prince”, answered the new arrival, “and can do nothing besides that. I am traveling, and am greatly troubled.”
“I thought immediately”, said the blacksmith, “that you were of better clay than we. But this comes in handy. We were just saying that each of us would tell a story, before we go to sleep. You might begin and tell us about that trade of yours and about your trouble.”
“Let me be the last one,” answered the prince. “I want to rest a little”. And he applied himself to potatoes, for he was hungry.
“Well, then”, remarked the blacksmith, “I will begin.” He blew a large cloud of smoke from his meerschaum and stretched himself. His arms showed well under the rolled-up sleeves. They were powerful, almost terrifying in their size. The muscles were like steel, the veins strung like violin-strings, the palms rough with callouses.
“Ever since my childhood I can do an unusual trick. When I was a boy, quite a baby, my mother guarded me very carefully, but I would evade her and run to the road mender to help him break stones with my fist, and he would let me have a few puffs at his pipe.”
“When I became older ,my father, a blacksmith, tok me for his apprentice. But I was always in trouble; I smashed the hammer, cleft
