“I am looking for the black castle in the north. Have ye heard nothing of it in your world-beautiful lives?”
“How not? Of course we have. Are we not the shepherds of that king, who rigorously and mercilessly enjoined that, if such and such a man, who sold him the two lean cows for his army, should find us, to treat him well with meat and drink, and then to show him the right road? Maybe thou art the man!”
“I am indeed.”
“I am no one else.”
“In that case sit here on the sheepskin; eat, drink, and enjoy thyself, for the kasha will be ready this minute.”
As they said, he did. The poor man sat by the fire, ate, drank, and satisfied himself, then lay down and fell asleep. When he rose in the morning they gave him a round cheese, and drove the air out of his bottle; then they let him go his way, showing him the right road.
The poor man travelled and journeyed along the right road; and now, when he was hungry and dry, he had his bag, and his bottle too. Towards evening he sees again a shepherd’s fire. He draws near the great fire, and sees the shepherds of the King of the Crows sitting around it cooking a meat stew. He wishes them, “God give you a good-day, my lords, the horseherds.”
“God guard thee, poor man,” said the chief herdsman; “where art thou going here in this strange land?”
“I am looking for the black castle of the King of the Crows. Hast thou never heard of it, brother, in thy world-beautiful life?”