Butasti Janez

Besedilo

Butasti Janez

Out in the country stood an old manor house, and in it lived an old squire who had two sons so clever that half their wit would have been quite enough. They meant to woo the king’s daughter, and they dared to try, for she had proclaimed that she would take as her husband the man she found best able to speak for himself.

The two now spent eight days preparing. That was all the time they had, but it was quite enough, for they already had some learning, and that is always useful. One knew the entire Latin dictionary by heart, as well as three years’ worth of the town newspaper, both forwards and backwards. The other had familiarized himself with all the guild regulations and everything an alderman ought to know, so he considered himself well qualified to discuss affairs of state. Besides that, he knew how to embroider braces, for he was a refined young man and clever with his fingers.

“I shall win the princess!” they both said, and their father gave each of them a splendid horse. The one who knew the dictionary and the newspapers received a coal-black horse, and the one with the alderman’s learning and the skill at embroidery received a milk-white one. Then they rubbed cod-liver oil into the corners of their mouths to make them more supple. All the servants were down in the courtyard to watch them mount. Just then the third brother arrived, for there were three, though nobody counted him as a brother, since he had none of the other two’s learning. They simply called him Klods-Hans.

“Where are you off to in your best clothes?” he asked. “To court, to talk our way into marrying the princess! Haven’t you heard what they’ve been proclaiming to the beat of a drum all over the country?” And then they told him.

“Well, well! Then I’d better come along!” said Klods-Hans, and his brothers laughed at him and rode away. “Father, let me have a horse!” cried Klods-Hans. “I’ve taken such a fancy to getting married. If she’ll have me, she’ll have me! And if she won’t have me, I’ll have her all the same!”

“What nonsense!” said his father. “I’m not giving you a horse. Why, you can’t even speak properly! Now, your brothers are fine fellows!” “If I can’t have a horse,” said Klods-Hans, “I’ll take the billy goat. He’s my own, and he can carry me well enough!” So he sat astride the goat, dug his heels into its sides, and went flying down the highway. Whew! How he went! “Here I come!” said Klods-Hans, and then he sang so loudly that his voice rang out behind him.

But his brothers rode quietly on ahead. They did not say a word, for they had to think over all the brilliant remarks they were going to make. They must be terribly clever, after all!

“Halloo!” shouted Klods-Hans. “Here I come! Look what I found on the highway!” And he showed them a dead crow he had found. “Blockhead!” they said. “What do you want with that?”

“I’m going to give it to the princess!” “Yes, you do that!” they said, laughing, and rode on. “Halloo! Here I come! Look what I’ve found now! You don’t find this on the highway every day!”

And his brothers turned round again to see what it was. “Blockhead!” they said. “Why, that’s an old wooden shoe with its upper broken off! Is the princess to have that too?”

“Indeed she is!” said Klods-Hans. And his brothers laughed and rode on, leaving him far behind. “Halloo! Here I am!” cried Klods-Hans. “Well, well, it gets better and better! Halloo! This is beyond compare!”

“What have you found now?” said his brothers. “Oh!” said Klods-Hans. “Words can’t describe it! How pleased the princess will be!” “Ugh!” said his brothers. “Why, that’s mud dredged straight out of the ditch!”

“Yes, so it is!” said Klods-Hans. “And it’s the finest kind—you can’t hold on to it!” And he filled his pocket. But his brothers rode as fast as their horses could carry them, arriving a whole hour ahead of him, and drew up at the town gate. There the suitors were given numbers in the order they arrived and lined up in ranks of six, packed so tightly that they could not move their arms. And that was just as well, for otherwise they would have ripped the coats off one another’s backs, simply because one stood ahead of another.

All the other inhabitants of the country stood round the palace, right up to the windows, to watch the princess receive her suitors. And the moment any one of them entered the room, his gift of speech deserted him.

“No good!” said the princess. “Away!” Now in came the brother who knew the dictionary, but he had forgotten every word of it while standing in line. The floor creaked, and the ceiling was made of looking-glass, so that he saw himself upside down. At every window stood three scribes and an alderman, each writing down everything that was said, so that it could go straight into the newspaper and be sold on the street corner for two skilling. It was dreadful, and they had stoked the stove so fiercely that its barrel glowed red!

“It’s terribly hot in here!” said the suitor. “That’s because my father is roasting cockerels today!” said the princess. “Baa!” There he stood. He had not expected a reply like that, and could not think of a word to say, though he had meant to say something witty. Baa!

“No good!” said the princess. “Away!” And off he had to go. Now the second brother came in. “It’s frightfully hot in here!” he said. “Yes, we’re roasting cockerels today!” said the princess.

“What do—what?” he said, and all the scribes wrote down, “What do—what!” “No good!” said the princess. “Away!” Now in came Klods-Hans, riding his billy goat straight into the room. “Well, this is a blazing heat!” he said.

“That’s because I’m roasting cockerels!” said the princess. “How very handy!” said Klods-Hans. “Then perhaps I can have a crow roasted?” “You certainly may!” said the princess. “But have you anything to roast it in? For I have neither pot nor pan!”

“But I have!” said Klods-Hans. “Here’s a cooking pot with a tin clasp!” And he pulled out the old wooden shoe and set the crow right in the middle of it. “That’s enough for a whole meal!” said the princess. “But where shall we get the gravy?”

“I have it in my pocket!” said Klods-Hans. “I’ve got so much I can afford to spill some!” And he poured a little mud out of his pocket. “I like that!” said the princess. “You certainly have an answer ready! You can speak for yourself, and I shall have you for my husband! But do you know that every word we say, and have said, is being written down and will be in the newspaper tomorrow? At every window you can see three scribes and an old alderman, and the alderman is the worst, for he can’t understand a thing!” She said this to frighten him. And all the scribes whinnied with laughter and splashed a blot of ink on the floor.

“So these are the fine gentlemen!” said Klods-Hans. “Then I must give the alderman the best of it!” And he turned out his pockets and flung the mud in his face.

“That was neatly done!” said the princess. “I couldn’t have done that! But I shall certainly learn!” And so Klods-Hans became king, got a wife and a crown, and sat on a throne. And we have all this straight from the alderman’s newspaper—which is not to be trusted!