LITTLE CLAUS AND BIG CLAUS
IN THIS ONE TOWN there were two men who both had the same name. Both were called Claus, but one of the men owned four horses, and the other had only one horse. In order to distinguish between them, they called the one who had four horses Big Claus, and the one who had only one horse, Little Claus. Now listen to what happened, for it’s quite a story!
All week long Little Claus had to plow for Big Claus and lend him his only horse. Then Big Claus paid him back with all his horses, but only one day a week, and that was on Sunday. Whew! How Little Claus cracked the whip over all five horses! After all, they were as good as his on that one day. The sun shone so brightly, and the church bells chimed for services. People were all dressed up and walked with their psalm books under their arms to hear the pastor preach. They all looked at Little Claus, plowing with his five horses, and he was so pleased with himself that he cracked the whip again and called out, “Giddy-up, all my horses!”
“You mustn’t say that,” said Big Claus. “Only one horse is yours, you know.”
But when some more people went by on their way to church, Little Claus forgot he wasn’t supposed to say that and yelled, “Giddy-up, all my horses!”
“Now cut that out!” said Big Claus. “If you say that one more time, I’ll hit your horse on the head so it drops dead on the spot! It’ll be all over for him.”
“I certainly won’t say it again,” promised Little Claus, but then when people walked by again and nodded to him, he thought having five horses to plow his field was so impressive that he cracked the whip and called out, “Giddy-up, all my horses!”
“I’ll giddy-up your horse!” said Big Claus, and took his tethering mallet and whacked Little Claus’ only horse on the head so it fell down quite dead.
“Oh! Now I don’t have a horse anymore,” said Little Claus and started to cry. Afterwards he skinned the horse, dried the skin in the wind, put it in a bag on his shoulder, and headed into town to sell his horse-skin.
It was a long way to walk. He had to go through a big dark forest, and a dreadful storm arose. He became completely lost, and before he found the right road, evening came, and it was too far to get to town or home again before nightfall.
There was a big farm right by the road. The windows were shuttered, but light could and did shine out the top. “I imagine they will let me stay here overnight,” thought Little Claus, and went up and knocked on the door.
The farmer’s wife opened the door, but when she heard what he wanted, she told him to leave because her husband wasn’t home, and she wouldn’t let a stranger in.
“Well then, I’ll have to sleep outside,” Little Claus said, and the farmer’s wife shut the door on him.
Close by was a big haystack, and between that and the house was a little shed with a flat thatched roof.
“That’s where I’ll sleep!” said Little Claus when he saw the roof. “That’s a lovely bed indeed. I’m sure the stork won’t fly down and bite my legs.” You see, there was a live stork up on the roof, where he had his nest.
So Little Claus climbed up onto the shed, where he lay and twisted about to get comfortable. The wooden shutters on the windows didn’t close completely at the top, and so he could look right into the room. There was a big table set with wine, a roast, and such a lovely fish. Only the farmer’s wife and the sexton were at the table, and she poured wine for him, and he stuffed himself with fish because that was something he really liked.
“Oh, if only I could have a bite of that!” Little Claus said and stretched his head way over by the window. God, what a beautiful cake he could see there! Here was luxury for sure!
Then he heard someone riding towards the house on the road. It was the woman’s husband, who was coming home. He was a kind man, but he had the most remarkable malady—he could not tolerate the sight of sextons. If a sexton came into view, he became absolutely furious. And that was why the sexton had come to visit the woman when he knew the farmer was not at home, and why the good woman treated him to all the best food she had in the house. When they heard the husband coming, they became very frightened, and the woman told the sexton to get into a big empty chest in the corner. He did that at once because he knew, of course, that the poor man couldn’t tolerate the sight of sextons. The farmer’s wife hurried to hide the scrumptious food and wine in the oven, because if the husband saw it, he would certainly have asked what the meaning of this was.
Up on the shed, Little Claus sighed, “Oh well,” when he saw all the good food disappear.
“Is there somebody up there?” asked the farmer and peered up at Little Claus. “What are you doing up there? Come down into the house instead.”
So then Little Claus explained how he had gotten lost and asked if he could spend the night.
“Sure!” the farmer said. “But first we’ll have a bite to eat!”
The woman welcomed them both warmly, set the long table, and gave them a big bowl of porridge. The farmer was hungry and ate with a good appetite, but Little Claus couldn’t help but think about the lovely roast, fish, and cake that he knew was in the oven.
He had put the bag with his horse-skin under the table by his feet, because we know, of course, that’s why he left home—to sell it in town. The porridge didn’t taste very good to him, and so he stepped on the bag, and the dry skin in the sack creaked pretty loudly.
“Hush!” Little Claus said to the bag, but at the same time he stepped on it again, so it creaked much louder than before.
“Say, what do you have in your bag?” asked the farmer.
“Oh, it’s a wizard,” answered Little Claus. “He says that we shouldn’t eat porridge because he has conjured up the whole oven full of roast and fish and cake.”
“What’s that!” the farmer cried, and he quickly opened the oven where he saw all the lovely food his wife had hidden, but which he now thought the wizard had conjured up for them. The woman didn’t dare say a thing, but put the food on the table right away, and they ate fish and roast and cake. Then Little Claus stepped on the bag again, so the skin creaked.
“What’s he saying now?” asked the farmer.
“He says,” Little Claus said, “that he has also conjured up three bottles of wine for us. They are over in the corner by the oven.” So then the woman had to bring out the wine she had hidden, and the farmer drank, became very merry, and said that he would really like to own a wizard like the one Little Claus had in the bag.
“Could he conjure up the devil, too?” asked the farmer. “I would really like to see him because I’m in such a good mood.”
“Yes,” Little Claus answered. “My wizard can do anything I want. Isn’t that right?” he said and stepped on the bag so it creaked. “Can you hear him answer, ‘yes?’ But the devil is so disgusting, it’s not worth seeing him.”
“Oh, I’m not a bit afraid no matter what he looks like.”
“Well, he looks just like a real live sexton!”
“Whew!” the farmer said, “that’s bad. You see I can’t tolerate the sight of sextons. But never mind. As long as I know it’s the devil, maybe I can stand it better. I’m brave now, but he mustn’t come too close to me.”
“Well, I’ll ask my wizard,” Little Claus said, stepped on the bag, and held his ear close.
“What does he say?”
“He says you can go over and open that chest in the corner. You’ll see the devil sitting there pondering, but you have to hold on to the lid so he doesn’t slip out.”
“Will you help me hold it?” asked the farmer, who went over to the chest where the woman had hidden the real sexton, who was sitting in there terrified.
The farmer lifted the lid a little bit and peeked in: “Ugh—!” he screamed and sprang backwards. “I saw him there all right. He looked just like our sexton! Oh, it was terrible!”