Little Muck

Little Muck

In the old city of Nicaea lived a man everyone called Little Muck.

He was short, wore a large turban, a broad belt, loose trousers, and enormous slippers. Because of the way he looked, children sometimes ran after him through the streets, invented silly rhymes, and laughed.

One day, there was a boy among them who tried especially hard to make his friends laugh. He even stepped on one of Muck’s slippers, and Muck nearly fell.

Muck said nothing. He simply straightened himself, looked calmly at the boy, and walked on.

That evening, the boy’s father called his son.

“I heard how you behaved toward Muck.”

The boy lowered his eyes.

“I thought it was funny.”

“Then you need to hear his story. Afterward, you can decide for yourself whether there was anything to laugh about.”

And the father began.

Little Muck’s real name was Mukra. His father was poor but respected. He lived a rather withdrawn life and did not always understand his son. Muck grew up cheerful and trusting and dreamed of distant lands, but he had neither teachers nor good advisers.

When he was sixteen, his father died unexpectedly. Relatives sold nearly all the family’s possessions to pay the debts, leaving Muck only his father’s old clothes.

His father had been much taller, so everything looked funny on him. The turban was too large, the trousers far too wide, and the cloak had to be cut shorter.

Muck was not discouraged.

“Perhaps these are the very clothes in which I will find my fortune,” he said.

He took a walking stick and set out into the world.

The first days were difficult. Muck walked beneath the hot sun, slept outdoors, and lived on wild fruit. Even so, every shining stone looked like a jewel to him, and the domes of distant cities seemed like gates to a magical land.

On the third day, he saw a large city.

In the market square, Muck heard a woman calling:

“Come here, my darlings! Come here, my beauties! Dinner is ready!”

Cats came racing toward one house from every street. Big cats and little cats, white, ginger, and striped. Several dogs ran after them.

Hungry Muck thought the woman was inviting anyone who wished to eat and followed the animals.

An elderly woman named Madam Ahavzi opened the door.

“What are you doing here?”

“I heard the invitation to dinner.”

She laughed.

“I was calling my animals. But since you are here, you can help me. There is plenty of work.”

And so Muck stayed in her house.

Every morning, he fed the cats and dogs, cleaned the rooms, carried water, and made sure the animals did not break anything.

He became especially fond of a little dog.

The trouble was that the cats were not well behaved at all. Whenever their mistress was away, they jumped onto shelves, knocked over vases, pulled at balls of yarn, and sent dishes crashing to the floor.

And every time, Muck was blamed.

“You have been careless again!” Madam Ahavzi scolded him.

“But it was the cats…”

“My darling cats would never do such a thing.”

Muck endured this for a long time. Then one day he realized that his mistress had no intention of paying him for his work and would never believe anything he said.

The little dog tugged at the hem of Muck’s cloak and led him to a locked room. The door accidentally opened, and Muck saw all kinds of strange objects inside.

Among them stood a pair of enormous slippers and a thin staff with a carved handle.

“My old shoes are completely worn out,” Muck thought. “I’ll take the slippers as payment for all these months of work. And the staff will be useful on the road.”

He left his mistress a note explaining that he was leaving and taking the two objects in place of his unpaid wages, then set off from the city.

The moment Muck put on the slippers, they carried him forward by themselves.

“Stop!” he shouted.

The slippers stopped.

Muck stared at them in amazement.

That night, he dreamed of the little dog.

“You still do not know what those things can do,” the dog told him in the dream. “Turn around three times on your heel while wearing the slippers, and they will carry you wherever you wish. The staff finds treasure. Above gold, it taps the ground three times. Above silver, twice.”

When Muck woke, he decided to test the dream at once.

He put on the slippers, turned three times, and thought of the next city.

The wind whistled in his ears.

Muck raced so fast that the trees beside the road blurred into one green ribbon.

“Slower!” he begged.

The slippers obediently slowed down.

Muck now possessed a true treasure, but he still wanted to earn his living honestly. In the capital, he heard that the king was looking for a very fast messenger.

The best runners came to be tested. When they saw Muck in his enormous slippers, they smiled.

But when the race began, he turned three times on his heels and shot away so quickly that within a minute everyone else was far behind.

The king appointed him chief royal runner.

Muck worked diligently. He delivered letters faster than mounted riders and could reach in a single day places a caravan needed a week to reach.

But there were jealous people at court.

“Why does the king trust this newcomer so much?” they muttered.

One evening, Muck was walking in the garden with the magic staff when suddenly it struck the ground three times.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Muck dug beneath the spot and found a pot filled with gold coins.

He was delighted and generously shared some of the gold with courtiers who were always complaining that they never had enough money.

But that only made matters worse.

“Where did he get the gold?” they began whispering. “He must be stealing from the royal treasury.”

Muck was arrested.

“I stole nothing,” he repeated. “My staff finds buried treasure.”

The king did not believe him.

So Muck told him about both the slippers and the staff.

The king ordered the magic objects to be tested. The staff really did find another old cache of coins.

But instead of apologizing, the king wanted the magic for himself.

“Such things should belong to a ruler,” he declared.

He took the slippers and the staff and banished Muck from the country.

Muck walked down the road barefoot, thinking:

“I trusted people who were friendly to me only while it benefited them.”

Several days later, he found himself in a forest. Hunger made him pick a few ripe figs from a tree.

The figs were sweet, but before long, Muck felt something strange happening to him.

His ears grew long, and his nose stretched forward.

“Well, this is quite an adventure!” he exclaimed.

At first, Muck was upset. Then he thought:

“If one kind of fig did this, perhaps another kind can undo it.”

On a nearby tree grew fruit of a slightly different color. He tasted one.

And indeed, his ears and nose returned to normal.

Muck looked at the two trees and smiled.

He had an idea.

He filled a basket with figs from the first tree, disguised himself as a merchant, and returned to the capital.

Near the palace, a cook noticed the rare fresh fruit.

“The king loves figs! Sell me the whole basket.”

Before long, the figs were served at the royal table.

The king ate more than anyone.

Within minutes, enormous ears grew from his head and his nose stretched long. The same thing happened to several courtiers who had eaten with him.

The palace erupted in confusion.

Doctors rubbed ointment on noses, applied compresses, and searched old books, but nothing helped.

Then a mysterious healer arrived at the gates wearing a dark cloak and a false white beard.

It was Muck.

“I know a cure,” he said.

He gave one courtier a fig from the second tree. At once, the man’s ears and nose returned to normal.

The king leaped to his feet.

“Cure me! You shall have anything you ask.”

“Then take me to the treasury,” replied the “healer.” “I must choose the proper ingredients.”

Inside the treasury, Muck immediately saw his slippers and staff.

He pulled off the false beard.

“Do you recognize me, my lord?”

The king turned red.

“Muck!”

“You took my belongings after you knew I was innocent. Now I am taking them back.”

The king started to call for the guards, but Muck had already slipped his feet into the magic slippers.

“Do not worry,” he said. “I will not leave you like this forever. But first, you must restore my good name and tell the truth before the entire court.”

The king understood he had no other choice.

The next morning, he summoned the courtiers.

“Little Muck did not steal the gold,” he announced. “I accused him unjustly and took what belonged to him. Today I admit my mistake.”

Muck gave the king and the other affected courtiers the healing figs.

Everyone recovered.

“Stay at court,” the king offered. “I will make you an adviser.”

Muck shook his head.

“Thank you. But I now know that I would rather live more quietly.”

He returned to Nicaea. He no longer showed anyone the magic slippers and staff unless there was a real need. He lived peacefully, helped people, and became known for his wise advice.

When the father finished the story, his son was silent for a long time.

“So we were laughing at someone who had been through all of that?” he finally asked.

“You laughed because you saw only a large turban, an unusual height, and broad slippers,” his father replied. “But a person is always greater than what can be noticed at first glance.”

The next day, the boy went to find Muck himself.

“Please forgive me,” he said. “Yesterday I behaved badly.”

Muck looked at him carefully.

“It is good that you understood that.”

“Do you still have the magic slippers?”

A smile flickered in Muck’s eyes.

“Perhaps.”

“And the staff?”

“Perhaps.”

“And the figs?”

Muck laughed.

“Those are the one thing I definitely would not go looking for if I were you.”

From then on, the children no longer ran after him laughing. When Little Muck went for a walk in his large turban and old slippers, they greeted him politely.

And for a long time, some of them still glanced curiously at his shoes and wondered whether they were truly ordinary.

And for a long time, some of them still glanced curiously at his shoes and wondered whether they were truly ordinary.