A cudgel in the sack.

It was time that the professor told us the next part of his favorite tale.

When he arrived many where waiting to hear the next part of the story.

 The story was still long so he wanted to start reading immediately:

It came to pass that he came to the same inn in which his brother’s table had been exchanged. He led his donkey by the bridle, and the host was about to take the animal from him and tie him up, but the young journeyman said, “Don’t trouble yourself, I will take my nag into the stable, and tie him up myself too, for I must know where he is.”

This struck the host as odd, and he thought that a man who was forced to look after his donkey himself, could not have much to spend. But when the stranger put his hand in his pocket and brought out two gold pieces, and said he was to provide something good for him, the host opened his eyes wide, and ran and sought out the best he could muster. After dinner the guest asked what he owed. The innkeeper did not see why he should not double the bill, and said the journeyman must give two more gold pieces. He felt in his pocket, but his gold was just at an end.

“Wait an instant, sir,” said he, “I will go and fetch some money.” But he took the tablecloth with him. The innkeeper could not imagine what this meant, and being curious, stole after him, and as the guest bolted the stable door, he peeped through a hole left by a knot in the wood.

The stranger spread out the cloth under the animal and cried, “Bricklebrit,” and immediately the beast began to let gold pieces fall from back and front, so that it fairly rained down money onto the ground.

“Eh, my word,” said the innkeeper. “Ducats are quickly coined there. A purse like that is not bad.” The guest paid his bill and went to bed, but in the night the innkeeper stole down into the stable, led away the master of the mint, and tied up another donkey in his place.

Early next morning the journeyman traveled away with his donkey, and thought that he had his gold-donkey. At midday he reached his father, who rejoiced to see him again, and gladly took him in.

“What have you made of yourself, my son?” asked the old man.

“A miller, dear father,” he answered.

“What have you brought back with you from your travels.”

“Nothing else but a donkey.”

“There are donkeys enough here,” said the father, “I would rather have had a good goat.”

“Yes,” replied the son, “but it is no common donkey, but a gold-donkey. When I say ‘Bricklebrit’ the good beast spews forth a whole sheetful of gold pieces. Just summon all our relatives here, and I will make them rich folks.”

“That suits me well,” said the tailor, “for then I shall have no need to torment myself any longer with the needle,” and he himself ran out and called the relatives together. As soon as they were assembled, the miller bade them make way, spread out his cloth, and brought the donkey into the room.

“Now watch,” said he, and cried, “Bricklebrit,” but what fell were not gold pieces, and it was clear that the animal knew nothing of the art, for not every donkey attains such perfection. Then the poor miller made a long face, saw that he had been betrayed, and begged pardon of the relatives, who went home as poor as they came. There was no help for it, the old man had to take up his needle once more, and the youth hired himself to a miller.

The third brother had apprenticed himself to a turner, and as that is skilled labor, he was the longest in learning. His brothers, however, told him in a letter how badly things had gone with them, and how the innkeeper had cheated them of their beautiful wishing gifts on the last evening before they reached home. When the turner had served his time, and was about to set forth, as he had conducted himself so well, his master presented him with a sack saying, “There is a cudgel in it.”

“I can take the sack with me,” said he, “and it may serve me well, but why should the cudgel be in it. It only makes it heavy.”

“I will tell you why,” replied the master. “If anyone has done anything to injure you, do but say, ‘Cudgel out of the sack,’ and the cudgel will leap forth among the people, and play such a dance on their backs that they will not be able to stir or move for a week. And it will not quit until you say, ‘Cudgel into the sack.'”

The journeyman thanked him, and put the sack on his back, and when anyone came too near him and wished to attack him, he said, “Cudgel out of the sack,” and instantly the cudgel sprang out and beat the dust out of their coats and jackets, right on their backs, not waiting until they had taken them off, and it was done so quickly, that before anyone was aware, it was already his own turn.

The Professor stood up from his chair and told us that even in this story there was a grain of truth.

He knew the workshop where the good guy has learned.

The professor was too tired to come with us but if we where interested he would open a moongate to the workshop.

And of course we would be interested to see this workshop!

Only moments later we found our self in Skara Brae at the shop.

The host did not looked very friendly!

“What are you doing here in my workshop!” he yelled!

He really did not want us there and threaten us to use the cudgel against us.

He was not sure how it would work but it would be more then enough to use against us.

With a wicked laugh he opened the bag and several of these cudgels flew around and start to beat on us.

These flying sticks where a lot tougher then they looked!

We had to organise well to beat down the cudgels one by one.

The evil host could not accept his defeat and his despair he attacked us himself.

It was the last mistake he will ever make!

A few lucky people got their hands on a bag that was used to store the magical cudgels.

I already look forward for the professor next part of the story.

It always take us on new adventures!

New Frarc, Drachenfels News reporter.

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