In ancient times, there lived a rich man in a village. He had three sons. Old became a rich man, so he decided to divide his property between his sons during his lifetime.
One day their father called them and said: “It seems that the time for me to die will soon come.” So I decided to give you my wealth now. Divide my fields equally, the rice in the barns, the silks in the chests. Let none of you know the need.
And then he paused and added:
- True, I still have a jug of gold, I don’t know who to give it to. I want the one who loves me more to receive it.
“Then the jug of gold belongs to me by right,” said the eldest son. “Remember, father, when you were sick, my wife did not leave you, she gave you herbs.” Thanks to us, you got better.
“No,” interrupted his middle brother. “This jug belongs to me.” When the priest twisted his leg, I carried him on my back. This is not an easy burden!
-What are you talking about, brothers? - the younger brother was indignant. - Is it really necessary to think about gold when our father is unwell?
Several days passed. The father called his sons again.
“I’ve become really bad, just behold, I’ll die,” he whispered. “The doctor told me that there is only one way to save me from death - I need to drink my mother’s milk.”
The brothers were dumbfounded.
- Where can we get it? Of course, our wives have milk, but they feed the children. If they give it to you, our children will die of starvation.
The sons left their father’s house and began to hold advice:
“I can’t become the murderer of my own child!” - exclaimed the elder.
“Father will die someday anyway,” said the middle one.
“It’s not right to leave your father,” the younger one put them to shame. “You can still have children, but we only have one father.”
“You’re obviously completely crazy!” - the older brothers got angry. - Do as you know!
The younger brother returned home and told his wife everything. She cried bitter tears, and then said:
“You’re right, you and I will have to give up the child in order to save the priest.” He did a lot of good things for us in life, now it’s our turn to repay him with kindness.
The youngest son went to his father,
“Don’t be sad, father,” he says. “You will have mother’s milk.” I only ask you one thing - indicate the place where to bury our child. It’s no good for us to wait for him to die hungry.
“Thank you, son,” the father cried, “for not sparing your own child in the name of your father.” Go with your wife to the edge of the village, there is a large pine tree growing near the field, dig a grave under it. Just, be careful, don’t kill your child until you dig a grave!
The youngest son began to cry and went home. He and his wife took a pick and a shovel and went to a large pine tree. They began to dig the grave, and everyone looked at the child - the child was playing among the grass, laughing happily.
“I no longer have the strength to endure this torment!” - the wife screamed. “Kill me and the child!”
- Wait! - said the husband. “My shovel doesn’t go any further, there’s something solid in the ground!”
They looked, and it was a jug of gold. Lo and behold, my father is standing next to me, alive and unharmed.
“Thank you, son, for your love,” he says. “I didn’t know who to give the gold to.” Now I see that it’s yours. I pretended to be terminally ill, I wanted to test you. Take your wife and child and go home.
Since then, the younger brother has lived in wealth and prosperity.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru