Honest Hans, or The Cabbage Thief
One
late night a shepherd stole a cabbage to feed to his sheep. It had been dry in
the pasture and the sheep had grazed most of it down to bare earth.
He
passed by the old man's garden every day and knew the man had watered his
garden. His vegetables were plump and green.
The
young man went out by the dark of the moon feeling his way though the
undergrowth of the forest to the clearing. There he made out the shape of the
old man's hut looming in the starlight.
He
crept to the garden and crawled on his hands and knees through the rows of
carrots and turnips until he found what he wanted.
Each
head he found was examined. Some were still too small. Others to big and
awkward to carry. But he thought of the sheep and what a treat it would be for
them and he persevered until he found just the right cabbage.
The
next morning the sheep gathered round the boy bleating for the toothsome treat.
They ate it up and went out to the pasture to nibble on the few mean blades of
grass that remained.
He
was fond of his charges and wanted them to grow and do well in the world. If
the sheep were healthy, then the farmer would keep him on.
The
young man wanted this. Minding sheep was all he'd ever done and all he wanted
to do. It required little schooling and that is exactly how much he had. He
could read and enjoyed it, but that was about it. He could count well enough to
see to it he had all the sheep, but even then he used the names he'd given
them, not numbers to keep track.
He
liked to be out of doors winter or summer. He loved the feeling of fresh air on
his face and the grass beneath his feet. He had no one but himself to look
after and no matter how little he made he earned his living his way.
He
was know as an honest fellow. Those who saw him in the village as he gathered
his charges for the day's grazing remarked, "There goes Honest Hans."
He
smiled his big wide smile when he heard this and he refused to think about his
nightly excursions to the garden.
"It's
for the sheep," he told himself as he crept about the ground looking for a
juicy cabbage to take.
The
sheep had liked their treat so much Hans knew he had to get more. He crept back
among the cabbages the next night, and the night after that, and the night
after that again.
Soon
all that were left were the smaller heads. He wanted to leave those for later.
The bigger the cabbage the more sheep it would feed.
He
rarely had a day off during grazing season. If he needed to attend to other
business he had to find another shepherd for his flock. But one day the farmer
who owned most of the sheep Hans looked after decided he'd take the sheep to
the pasture himself.
"My
flock is doing well at your hand. You've earned a day off. I will see for
myself where you find this tender grass for them."
Hans
had no choice but to walk away.
He
thought about the cabbage under his coat. He'd have to save it for the next
day.
He
had a whole day in front of him with nothing to do. It was one thing to have
all the free time you wished while you earned a living, but this was different.
When he didn't work he did not earn any money. If that happened too often he'd
have to steal cabbage for himself.
He
decided not to think about it. One day would not matter. He went to the village
and searched through the shops for cheese and meat and wondered if he could
afford a new pair of boots.
He
looked at his feet. His boots were holding together well enough on the sides,
but the soles were worn. He might get the rest of the summer out of them, but
he'd need new ones for winter.
Winter
was still far away. He'd have money enough. He kept his money in a sock under
his mattress in the loft of Mr. Lauer's barn. Hans had lived there since his
parents died many years earlier.
The
sock held enough for a pair of boots already, he decided, and perhaps a bit of
joy at the local tavern. He went to his loft to get the money and remembered he
still carried the cabbage with him.
He
set it on his pillow and drew up the covers just enough to make it look like
someone was sleeping and then went on his way.
The
tavern was warm and noisy and the tavern keeper friendly and quick to draw his
beer. Since Hans had no where to go or to be until the next morning he sat back
and enjoyed his day off.
By
late evening Hans had drunk all the money he'd taken with him and had convinced
the tavern owner to let him run a tab. It was late when he left the tavern and
very dark out. As he stumbled along on the cobblestone streets singing to
himself he thought about the sheep.
"They
must have been very disappointed to only have thin grass," he thought.
"This will never do."
He
turned around and made his way back through the village and along the path in
the forest to the old man's garden.
He
crawled around the rows, but could only find a small head to take with him.
As
he was wresting it off the stem the hut door opened. A gruff voice called,
"Who's stealing my cabbage? I'll show you."
Hans
heard a click and the report of a gun, and he felt a curious stinging in his
backside.
He
yelped and stumbled to his feet. The cabbage rolled out of his arms to the
ground. He had no time to pick it up. He stumbled and jerked and reeled as fast
as he could to the path and through the forest and all the way to his loft.
He
threw himself on the bed forgetting all about the cabbage he'd left there in
the morning.
As
he reached over to pull his thin pillow under his head he found the cabbage
instead.
It
rolled toward him.
"Ayyyyyyeeeee.
There's a bodiless head in my bed."
And
he screamed and ran from his loft into the forest.
The
shepherd was never seen again. The old-timers in the village say if you venture
into the woods on a night in pasture season you'll hear Hans stumbling and
screaming about the bodiless head.
