door and at the breath of it they will revive at once.”
So the peasant cut off the left lappet from the shroud and gave him back the coffin lid. Then the dead man went back into the grave and laid himself down in it. Then the cocks crowed and he could not lock it down properly: one corner of the coffin lid would perk upwards. The peasant noticed all this. Day was breaking, so he yoked his horse and went into the village.
In a certain house he could hear the sound of lamentation and cries of grief: he went in there, and two youths lay dead. “Do not weep: I can revive them.”
“Do revive them, kinsman: half of our goods we will give you,” said the relations.
So the peasant did as the corpse had told him, and the lads revived. The parents were delighted, and they seized hold of the peasant, and they pinioned him with ropes. “Now, doctor, we are going to take you up to the authorities: if you can revive them it must be you who killed them!”
“What, good Christians! Have some fear for God!” the peasant shrieked: and he told what he had seen at night.
Soon the news spread through the village, and the people assembled and rushed up to the cemetery, looked at the grave out of which the corpse had come, tore it up and dug into the dead man’s heart an oaken stake, so that he should never rise up and kill folks. And they rewarded the peasant greatly and led him home with honour.
A Tale of the Dead
Once a carpenter was going home late at night from a strange village: he had been at a jolly feast at a friend’s house. As he came back an old friend met him who had died some ten years before.
“How do you do?”
“How do you do?” said the walker, and he forgot that his friend had long ago taken the long road.
“Come along with me: let us have a cup together once more.”
“Let us go.”
“I am so glad to have met you again, let us toast the occasion.”
So they went into an izbá,5 and they had a drink and a talk. “Well, goodbye; time I went home!”
“Stay, where are you going? Come and stay the night with me.”
“No, brother, do not ask me: it is no good. I have business at home tomorrow and must be there early.”
“Well, goodbye.”
“But why should you go on foot? Better come on my horse, and he will gallop along gaily.”
“Thank you very much.”
So he sat on the horse, and the horse galloped away like a whirlwind.
Suddenly the cock crowed: it was a very terrible sight! Graves all around, and under the wayfarer a gravestone!
A Tale of the Dead
They had discharged the soldier home, and he was going on his road, it may be far, it may be a short way, and he at last was nearing his village. Not far from his village there lived a miller in his mill: in past times the soldier had been great friends with him.
Why should he not go and see his friend? So he went.
And the miller met him, greeted him kindly, brought a glass of wine, and they began speaking of all they had lived through and seen. This was towards the evening, and whilst the soldier was the miller’s guest it had become dark. So the soldier got ready to go into the village.
But the miller said to him, “Soldier, stay the night with me: it is late and you might come by some mishap.”
“What?”
“A terrible sorcerer has died, and at night he rises out of the grave, ranges about the village and terrifies the boldest: why, he might give you trouble.”
What was the use of it? Why, the soldier was a State servant, and a soldier cannot be drowned in the sea, nor be burned in the fire! So he answered, “I will go, for I should like to see my relatives as soon as I can.”
So he set out; and the road crossed a graveyard. As he looked he saw a glow on one grave. “What is it?” he said; “I must look at this.” So he went up, and beside a fire there sat the sorcerer, sewing shoes. “Hail, brother!” said the soldier.
So the wizard looked, and asked, “What are you doing here?”
“I only wanted to see what you are up to.”
So the wizard threw down his work, and he invited the soldier to a wedding. “Let us go, brother, let us have a walk: there is a wedding now going on in the village.”
“Very well,” said the soldier.
So they went to the wedding, and were royally feasted and given to eat and drink.
The wizard drank and drank, walked about and walked about, and grew angry, drove all the guests and the family out of the izbá,6 scattered all the wedding guests, took out two bladders and an awl, pricked the hands of the bride and bridegroom and drew their blood, filling the bladders with the blood. He did this and said to the soldier, “Now we will leave the house.”
On the road the soldier asked him, “Tell me, why did you fill the bladders with the blood?”
“So that the bride and bridegroom might die. Tomorrow nobody will be able to wake them up: I only know one means of reviving them.”
“What is that?”
“You must pierce the heels of the bride and bridegroom and pour the blood again into the wounds, their own blood into each. In my right pocket I have the bridegroom’s blood hidden, and in my left, the bride’s.”
So the soldier listened and never said a single word.
But the wizard went on boasting. “I, you know, carry out whatever I desire.”
“Can you be overcome?”
“Yes, certainly: if anyone were to make a pile of aspen wood, one hundred cartloads in all, and to
