A Book of Tricksters Read online

  “It must need more hay,” he told the servants. They brought more bales from the barn and spread them in front of the mare. Again the animal ate, again Master Li waited impatiently, again he scratched the back of the mare’s tongue—and again nothing happened.

  “Perhaps I am not scratching hard enough or back far enough in the mouth,” the landowner remarked to his servants. So he put his hand way back in the horse’s mouth and scratched as hard as he could. This time it coughed loudly, and Master Li heard rumblings coming from its throat. He pried the mare’s mouth open wide and looked in—just as she threw up all of the hay she’d eaten.

  The servants covered their mouths so that their master would not see them grinning. As he wiped the slimy yellow liquid and the half-digested straw off his face, he roared, “I’ve been tricked. A young peasant has swindled me.”

  Master Li realized that if the other landowners ever heard he had been tricked by a peasant, they would all laugh at him. He was very rich and powerful, but he could not stand anyone laughing at him.

  “If anyone tells what just happened,” he snarled at his servants, “he will be fired from my service, and I’ll make sure that he’ll never be able to work for anyone else around here.” The servants nodded their heads in agreement. Of course, they didn’t want to lose their jobs. Just seeing their master so angry and embarrassed was enjoyment enough.

  When Zhao arrived back at his small village, two of his friends came to meet him. As he told them about his visit with the landowner, he divided the money into three equal piles. Then he gave a pile to each of his friends. “That will pay each of you back for money you gave me to buy the mare and the tiny silver ingot; and there will more than enough left to pay your taxes this year. Now let’s not hear anyone say what a mean, miserly man Master Li is. He’s so generous that he paid our taxes for us.”

  How EUGENE Escaped Poverty

  FRANCE :: Over 300 years ago, Charles Perrault, a French man, retold many old folktales, including “Cinderella” and “Little Red Riding Hood.” He often poked fun at the foolishness of rich and powerful people.

  Eugene sat despondently on the steps of the mill. His father had died several days earlier. Even though the old man had not been kind to him, Eugene had loved him, and now he missed him.

  Then, yesterday, his father’s will had been read. The oldest son received the mill, and the middle son, a strong donkey. They decided to work together, milling and hauling grain. Eugene got only the cat.

  When his two older brothers heard that their father had only left Eugene the cat that lived in the barn, they laughed at him. “Well, at least if you have to sleep in a hovel, the animal will keep the mice down,” they said. “Don’t even think about staying here. In a week you’ll have to be gone.”

  While Eugene thought about his unhappy lot in life, the cat began to rub against his legs and purr. “What am I going to do, Puss?” he said.

  To his surprise, the cat answered him. “Don’t be so despondent. I have a plan.”

  “You…you…,” the young man sputtered, “you can talk!”

  “Of course I can,” the cat replied. “But your brothers were always mean to me, so I decided it would be a good idea to keep quiet. You were the only one who ever treated me kindly. So I’m going to help you.”

  “But…but—” Eugene started.

  The cat cut him off. “If I’m going to help you, you have to learn one thing,” he said. “When I tell you something, don’t ask questions. Just do as I say. Now, let’s start. I want you to get me a pair of boots, the fanciest you can find.”

  The young man was about to blurt out another but. Just in time, he remembered the cat’s instructions. So he went to the village and bought an old pair of boys’ boots.

  When he arrived home, the cat remarked, “They’re the right size, but they look pretty scruffy. You’d better get a sharp needle, some strong thread, black shoe polish and a clean rag to fix them up. Then I’ll tell you what to do.”

  Eugene obeyed without asking questions. He sewed and polished the boots and gave them to the cat to try on. They looked like new.

  The cat put them on. They looked very handsome on him. “I’ll be going now. I should be back tomorrow,” the cat said and headed down the road.

  A mile or so from the mill, the road passed through a large meadow. The cat looked around until he saw a narrow trail through the grass. He walked along it a short way, then lay down on his back, closed his eyes and didn’t move a muscle.

  Soon, a small, plump rabbit came hopping along. It froze when it saw the cat in front of it. When the cat’s body didn’t move, the rabbit hopped up to it and began to sniff.

  Suddenly, the cat grabbed the rabbit by the throat and choked it. “Now you’re ready to meet the king,” he remarked. He carefully cleaned a spot of blood off one of his paws, threw the rabbit over his shoulders and headed toward the king’s palace.

  The guards at the palace gate were surprised when they saw a cat wearing handsome boots and carrying a rabbit over his shoulder. When the cat spoke to them and said that he had a gift for the king from his master, the Marquis de Carabas, they were amazed—so amazed that they let him in.

  The cat walked up to the throne, bowed low and placed the rabbit in front of the king. “Your Majesty, this plump, fresh rabbit is a gift from my master, the Marquis de Carabas.”

  The king thanked the cat. He had never heard of the Marquis de Carabas, but it would never do to let any of his subjects find out that he didn’t know everything. The cat bowed and left the palace.

  Although Eugene was bursting with questions when the cat arrived home the next morning, he knew well enough to keep quiet. But when the cat asked him to make him a large leather bag with drawstrings to close it at the top, he couldn’t help himself. “A leather bag? Why?”

  “Don’t ask questions, and do what I tell you,” the cat responded. So Eugene did.

  When the bag was finished, the cat slung it over his shoulder, headed down the road and, once again, turned into the meadow. This time, he placed the bag in the middle of the trail, propped it open with a stick and put a handful of corn kernels inside. Then he tied a long string to the drawstrings and hid in the bush.

  Soon, two pheasants came down the trail and, seeing the corn, walked into the bag. The cat pulled the string that closed the bag, threw the bag over his shoulder, returned to the road and walked to the palace. This time the guards didn’t question him, but ushered him right into the throne room. The king was impressed with the fine game birds that, according to the cat, the Marquis de Carabas had sent, and he expressed his desire to meet him.

  The cat explained that his master was extremely busy fixing his castle and overseeing the work of the farms that surrounded it. But he was sure that the young man would be delighted to meet the king when the work was finished.

  When the king heard that the cat’s master had a fine castle and many farms, he was even more impressed. “I will be travelling through my kingdom in three days. Perhaps I shall pass by the Marquis’ lands,” he said to the cat.

  Three days later, the cat told his master to put on his dirtiest, most ragged clothes, follow him and not ask questions. The two of them walked past the meadow and into a grove of trees through which flowed a large stream.

  “Take off these clothes, hang them on that branch, go into the water and start scrubbing yourself. If you hear me yelling, just stay where you are.”

  In a few minutes, a carriage came along the road, pulled by six magnificent white horses and surrounded by armed men on horseback.

  The cat rushed into the middle of the road, waving his arms wildly and crying out, “Help, help! My master, the Marquis de Carabas, has been robbed.”

  The carriage stopped, and the door opened. Out stepped the king and the princess, the most beautiful young woman in the kingdom.

  “It was such a hot day that my master decided to take a swim in the stream,” the cat gasped. “While he was in the water, three m
en snuck up, stole his beautiful clothes, left some old rags and took his horse. I tried to stop them. But what could I do? I’m too small to fight three big robbers.”

  “Your master has been so kind to me,” the king told the cat, “that I would be only too happy to help him.” He ordered his servants to bring a large blanket so that the Marquis could dry himself, and to find some clothes that would fit him.

  While they were doing this, the cat slipped away and continued down the road.

  In a few minutes, Eugene came up to the carriage, as clean and well dressed as he’d ever been in his life. He bowed to the king, who thanked him profusely for the wonderful gifts he’d sent. Eugene looked surprised and was just about to ask a question, when the king asked him one. “My dear Marquis, wherever did you find that wonderful cat? It doesn’t just talk, it speaks beautifully. It must have cost you a fortune.”

  “My father gave it to me,” Eugene explained. “It was his most valued possession.”

  The king was impressed. What a rich man this Marquis de Carabas must be, he thought. And he invited the young man to ride in his carriage and to sit beside the beautiful young princess.

  Meanwhile, the cat had arrived at a large grain field where peasants were busily cutting a bountiful harvest. “The king is coming,” he told the workers. “You must tell him that these fields belong to the Marquis de Carabas. If you do not, you will be cut into tiny pieces.” Terrified, they agreed.

  He passed several more fields, saying the same thing to the workers. Finally, he arrived at the gates of a very large castle. “Who lives here?” he asked the guards.

  They told him that this was the home of a fearful ogre who had a terrible temper and magical powers. “He can change himself into many different creatures,” one of them said.

  “Tell your master that I am an ambassador from the Marquis de Carabas and that I have come to pay my master’s respects.”

  Impressed by the cat’s fancy boots and noble way of speaking, the guards ushered him into the castle.

  When he saw how huge the ogre was, and what big, sharp teeth he had, the cat was afraid for the first time in his life. He wanted to run, but instead he bowed to his host. “I am honored to be here. My master, the Marquis de Carabas, asked me to arrange a meeting with you. He has heard of your great powers. He told me that you could transform yourself into large, fierce animals. It is almost beyond belief.”

  Now, the ogre wasn’t used to being treated with such dignity and respect. Usually people just trembled, wept and begged him not to eat them. “I certainly can,” he said, a note of pride in his voice. “What would you like to see?”

  “Certainly one as noble as you would look wonderful as a lion, the king of the beasts.”

  In an instant, a great lion stood where the ogre had been. It roared so loudly that the dishes rattled on the shelves and pictures fell from the wall. The cat became more frightened. But he kept calm, and when the ogre had resumed his usual shape, the cat remarked, “That was magnificent. You were even more amazing that I ever could have imagined.

  “But,” he said, “there are things I’ve heard about your magic powers that, even after seeing what you just did, I still can’t believe. People say you can make yourself into the smallest of creatures, that you could even become an insignificant little mouse.”

  “It is a difficult thing to do. But I don’t know of anyone else who can change into a small creature as well as I can. Watch.” In an instant, a tiny mouse was standing in front of the cat. But not for long. The cat sprung, and that was the end of the ogre.

  Then the cat walked proudly down to the castle gates. “I have killed your master,” he told them. “The king will be arriving here soon with the Marquis de Carabas, and unless you tell him that this castle belongs to the Marquis, I will kill all of you as well.”

  Meanwhile, the king stopped his carriage at each field they passed, and when he learned that they all belonged to the Marquis de Carabas, he became more and more impressed with the young man sitting beside his daughter.

  The carriage arrived at the ogre’s castle gates late in the afternoon. “Welcome, Your Majesty,” the guards called out. “And welcome home, Marquis.”

  Eugene saw his cat sitting on the castle step and realized that it had been at work again. He wasn’t sure how, but he could wait until later to ask questions. He invited the king inside. As they walked through the magnificent rooms, looking at the fine tapestries, the gold-plated candle holders and the elegantly carved hardwood furniture, the king became more and more impressed with the young man he had rescued by the stream.

  The king smiled as he thought to himself how wonderful it would be for him if he could marry his daughter to this handsome and very wealthy marquis. He moved closer to Eugene and, in what he thought was a whisper but was really quite loud, said, “You are a fine young man, and I would be honoured if you would become my son-in-law. Would you consider marrying my daughter?”

  The princess blushed a little when she overheard her father. But she smiled as well.

  Eugene was speechless.

  “What’s the matter? Has the cat got your tongue?” asked the king.

  At that moment, the cat brushed against the young man’s leg, sprung onto his lap and whispered, “It’s okay to speak now. In fact, you’d better speak. Say yes.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty, I would be honoured to have you as my father-in-law.” Eugene looked at the princess, who was still smiling.

  Eugene and the princess were soon married. They were very happy. The king was even happier, for he had acquired a very rich son-in-law.

  And the cat was happy, too. He dined on caviar and imported fish, drank the richest dairy cream and only hunted mice when he felt a little bored.

  Why ROBIN HOOD Became a Butcher

  ENGLAND :: For over 600 years, people have been retelling stories about Robin Hood, the English hero who fought against the cruel and evil Sheriff of Nottingham. Although Robin Hood was an excellent archer, he often used his wits to defeat his enemies and help poor people.

  Robin Hood was bored. It had been raining for several days. Now the sun had started shining, and he wanted to get away from his campsite deep in Sherwood Forest.

  “I think I’ll see if I can find a deer. Our meat supply is getting low,” he said to Little John.

  Little John knew that Robin probably wasn’t going into the forest to hunt. His friend loved adventures, especially when they were dangerous. Robin had often talked about going to Nottingham to bring the Sheriff to Sherwood Forest to punish him for the evil deeds he’d done against so many honest and poor people.

  “Don’t go near the King’s Highway,” Little John warned his friend. “The Sheriff of Nottingham has increased his patrols. He’s sworn that he is going to catch you. And whatever you do, don’t go near Nottingham Town.”

  “I’m not that foolish,” Robin laughed as he walked from the campsite into the forest.

  But as he walked along, Robin thought that going into Nottingham Town would be quite an adventure—something exciting after being confined to the forest for so long. But how to do it?

  He was so busy thinking about going into the town that before he realized it, he was at the edge of the King’s Highway. He sat on a large boulder beside the road. He was still thinking about getting into town when a man leading a horse with a two-wheeled cart came down the highway.

  Robin called out a greeting, and the man stopped, an alarmed look on his face. A man carrying a bow and arrow could be dangerous. He gripped his staff. If this was a robber, he’d give him a good fight.

  “Who are you?” asked Robin.

  “I’m a butcher,” came the reply. “I’m on the way to Nottingham to sell my beef.”

  When he heard this, Robin had an idea. “I have a proposition to make. If you sold me your horse, the cart and the beef that’s in it, you could make a lot of money without having to work for it. I’d give you a good price, especially if you gave me your leather jerkin
, your apron and that slouch hat you’re wearing.”

  The butcher laughed. “I’d be some kind of fool to do that.”

  “If I offered you 20 pounds, that would certainly pay for the meat and the horse and cart, with a lot left over. You could easily buy a better horse and cart.”

  The butcher agreed. Robin wore the hat pulled over his eyes and the greasy apron and jerkin over his woodsman clothes. Then he led the horse into the market square in Nottingham.

  He sang lustily as he set up his cart in the market. He talked loudly to the other butchers and then surprised everyone when he called out to people around, “Fine meats, I have fine meats for sale. A penny a pound for quality beef. And if you’re young and pretty and will give me a hug and kiss, you can have a pound of meat for free.”

  The other butchers shook their heads. “This fellow must be weak in the head, selling meat so cheaply. Why, we barely make enough money when we charge three pennies for a pound.”

  Word spread through the market about this strange new butcher, and a line of women, many of them young and very pretty, formed in front of Robin’s cart. Soon the meat was all gone. Robin jingled the coins in his purse, smiled and whistled happily.

  “And now,” he called out in a very loud voice, “I will sell this fine cart and this handsome horse. I don’t want to be a butcher anymore. If anyone will offer me five pounds, the horse and cart are his.”

  Both the horse and cart were better than those of the other butchers, so Robin made a quick sale. The people around snickered and nodded knowingly at each other. Obviously, the butcher was a fool, and a rich one. He couldn’t have owned such a fine animal or cart, nor could he have brought such good meat to market, if he hadn’t had money.

  The news of this loud, foolish and possibly wealthy butcher soon reached the Sheriff of Nottingham, whose very grand house stood not far from the market. I’ll have to meet this strange fellow, the Sheriff thought to himself. It seems that he can be separated from his money very easily.