The Rich Brother and the Poor Brother

There was once a rich old man who had two sons. His wife was dead, so the elder son lived with him and helped him look after the farm. For a long time everything went well. The young man got up early every morning and worked hard all day.

At the end of each week, his father counted the money they had made and rubbed his hands with joy when he saw how big the pile of gold in the strong iron chest was becoming.

'Soon it will be full, and I will have to buy a bigger one,' he said to himself. He was so busy thinking about his money that he did not notice how bright his son's face had grown, or how he sometimes jumped when spoken to, as if his mind was far away.

One day the old man went to the city on business, something he had not done for at least three years. It was market day, and he met many people he knew. It was quite late when he turned into the inn yard and told a stable boy to saddle his horse and bring it out quickly. While he was waiting in the hall, the landlady came over for a chat. After talking about the weather and the vineyards, she asked him how he liked his new daughter-in-law and if he had been surprised at the marriage.

The old man stared. 'Daughter-in-law? Marriage?' he said. 'I don't know what you are talking about! I have no daughter-in-law, and nobody has been married lately, as far as I know.'

The landlady was very curious, and this was exactly what she wanted to find out. But she put on a look of great alarm and exclaimed, 'Oh dear! I hope I haven't caused trouble. I had no idea – of course I wouldn't have spoken – but...' She stopped and fiddled with her apron, as if she was very embarrassed.

'Since you have said so much, you will have to say a little more,' the old man replied. A suspicion of what she meant crossed his mind. The woman, who was happy to continue, answered: 'Well, it wasn't just for buying and selling that your handsome son has been coming to town every week for many months.

And not by the shortest way either! No, he rode over the river and across the hill and past the cottage of Miguel the vine-keeper, whose daughter they say is the prettiest girl in the whole countryside, though she is too pale for my taste.' The landlady paused and glanced at the farmer to see how he was taking it.

She did not learn much. He stared straight ahead, his teeth clenched. But when she stopped talking, he said quietly, 'Go on.'

'There is not much more to tell,' said the landlady, because she suddenly remembered she must prepare supper for the hungry men who always stopped at the inn on market days before going home. 'One fine morning they both went to the little church on top of the hill and were married. My cousin is a servant to the priest, and she found out and told me. But good day to you, sir; here is your horse, and I must hurry to the kitchen.'

Luckily the horse was sure-footed and knew the road, because his bridle hung loose on his neck and his master took no notice of the way he was going. When they reached the farmhouse, the man led the animal to the stable and then went to look for his son.

'I know everything – you have deceived me. Get out of my sight at once – I am done with you,' he stammered, choking with anger as he came up to the young man, who was cutting a stick in front of the door, whistling happily.

'But, father –'

'You are no son of mine. I only have one now. Be gone, or it will be worse for you.' As he spoke, he lifted his whip.

The young man stepped back. He was afraid his father might fall down in a fit, his face was so red and his eyes seemed to bulge from his head. But it was no use staying. Maybe the next morning the old man would listen to reason, although in his heart the son felt that he would never take back his words. So he turned slowly away and walked heavily along a path that ended in a cave on the side of the hill. There he sat through the night thinking about what had happened.

Yes, he had been wrong; there was no doubt about that. He did not quite know how it had come about. He had meant to tell his father everything. He was sure that if the old man had seen his wife, he would have forgiven her poverty because of her great beauty and goodness. But he had put it off from day to day, hoping for a better chance, and now this was the end.

If the son got no sleep that night, neither did the father. As soon as the sun rose, he sent a messenger to the great city to bring back the younger brother. When he arrived, the farmer did not waste words. He told him that he was now his only heir, that he would inherit all his lands and money, and that he must come and live at home and help manage the property.

The younger brother was very pleased at the thought of becoming so rich – the two brothers had never cared much for each other – but he would rather have stayed where he was, because he soon got tired of the country and longed for town life. However, he kept this to himself and made the best of things, working hard like his brother before him.

In this way the years went by. But the crops were not as good as they used to be, and the old man gave orders that some fine houses he was building in the city should be left unfinished, because it would take all the savings to complete them. As for the elder son, he would never even hear his name mentioned. He died at last without ever seeing his face again, leaving the younger son all his lands and money, as he had promised.

Meanwhile, the son he had disinherited grew poorer and poorer. He and his wife were always looking for work, and never spent a penny they could help, but luck was against them. By the time of his father's death, they had hardly any bread to eat or clothes to wear. If it had been only himself, he would have managed somehow, but he could not bear to watch his children grow weaker every day. So he swallowed his pride and crossed the mountains to his old home, where his brother was living.

It was the first time in many years that the two men had met face to face. They looked at each other in silence. Then tears came to the elder brother's eyes, but he blinked them away quickly and said, 'Brother, I don't need to tell you how poor I am – you can see for yourself.

I have not come to beg for money, but only to ask if you will give me those unfinished houses in the city. I will make them watertight so that my wife and children can live in them. That will save us rent.

As they are now, they are no use to you.'

The younger brother listened and felt sorry for him. He gave him the houses he asked for, and the elder brother went away happy.

For some years things went on as before. Then the rich brother began to feel lonely. He thought to himself that he was getting older, and it was time to marry. The wife he chose was very wealthy, but she was also very greedy.

No matter how much she had, she always wanted more. She was also one of those unlucky people who always think that other people's possessions are better than their own. Many times her poor husband regretted the day he had first seen her, and her mean and shabby ways often put him to shame.

But he did not have the courage to control her, and she only got worse and worse.

After a few months of marriage, the bride wanted to go to the city to buy herself some new dresses. She had never been there before. When she finished shopping, she thought she would visit her unknown sister-in-law and rest for a while.

The house she was looking for was on a broad street. It should have been very magnificent, but the carved stone entrance enclosed a small, rough wooden door, and a row of beautiful pillars led to nothing.

The buildings on each side were in the same unfinished condition, and water trickled down the walls. Most people would have considered it a miserable place and turned away, but this lady saw that by spending some money the houses could be made as splendid as they were originally meant to be.

She instantly decided to get them for herself.

Full of this idea, she walked up the marble staircase and entered the little room where her sister-in-law sat making clothes for her children. The bride seemed very interested in the houses and asked many questions, so that her new relations liked her much better than they had expected and hoped they could be friends.

However, as soon as she reached home, she went straight to her husband and told him that he must get those houses back from his brother. They would be perfect for her, and she could easily turn them into a palace as fine as the king's.

But her husband only told her that she could buy houses in another part of town. She could not have those, because he had long ago given them as a gift to his brother, who had lived there for many years.

At this answer, the wife grew very angry. She began to cry and made such a noise that all the neighbours heard her and put their heads out the windows to see what was the matter. 'It's absurd!' she sobbed. 'Quite unjust!

If you think about it, the gift was worthless, because when my husband made it he was a bachelor, and since then he has been married, and I never gave my consent to anything like that!' So she wailed all day and all night, until the poor man was nearly worried to death.

In the end he did what she wanted and took his brother to court, demanding that he give up the houses, which he said had only been lent to him. But when the evidence from both sides was heard, the judge decided in favour of the poor man.

This made the rich lady more furious than ever, and she was determined not to rest until she had won. If one judge would not give her the houses, another would. So time after time the case was tried again, until finally it came before the highest judge of all, in the city of Evora.

Her husband was heartily tired and ashamed of the whole affair, but his weakness in not stopping it from the start had got him into this mess, and now he had to go on.

On the same day, the two brothers set out on the journey to the city. The rich one rode on horseback with plenty of food in his knapsack. The poor one walked, with nothing but a piece of bread and four onions to eat on the way. The road was hilly, and neither could go very fast. When night fell, they were both glad to see some lights in a window a little way ahead.

The lights turned out to be in a farmer's house. The farmer had planned a particularly good supper because it was his wife's birthday. He told the rich man to come in and sit down, while he himself took the horse to the stable. The poor man asked timidly if he could spend the night in a corner, adding that he had brought his own supper. Another time permission might have been refused, because the farmer did not like poor people, but now he let the elder brother come in and pointed to a wooden chair where he could sit.

Supper was soon served, and the younger brother was very glad to eat it – his long ride had made him very hungry. The farmer's wife, however, would not touch anything. Finally she declared that the only supper she wanted was one of the onions the poor man was cooking by the fire. Of course he gave it to her, although he would have been happy to eat it himself, because three onions are not much at the end of a long day's walk. Soon after, they all went to sleep, the poor man making himself as comfortable as he could in his corner.

A few hours later the farmer was awakened by the cries and groans of his wife. 'Oh, I feel so ill, I'm sure I'm going to die!' she wept. 'It was that onion, I know it was. I wish I had never eaten it. It must have been poisoned.'

'If that man has poisoned you, he will pay for it,' said her husband. He grabbed a thick stick and ran downstairs. He began to beat the poor man, who had been sound asleep and had nothing to defend himself with. Luckily the noise woke the younger brother, who jumped up and snatched the stick from the farmer's hand, saying, 'We are both going to Evora to try a lawsuit. Come too and accuse him there if he tried to rob or murder you, but don't kill him now, or you will get yourself into trouble.'

'Well, maybe you are right,' answered the farmer. 'But the sooner that fellow gets what he deserves, the better I will be pleased.' Without another word, he went to the stables and brought out a horse for himself and also the black Andalusian mare that the rich man had ridden. The poor brother, fearing more mistreatment, started off at once on foot.

Now it had rained heavily all night, and did not seem likely to stop. In some places the road was so thick with mud that it was almost impossible to cross. At one spot it was so bad that a mule loaded with baggage had got stuck.

The mule strained, but his master could not pull him out. The muleteer cried for help to the two horsemen, who were carefully going around the swamp some distance away, but they paid no attention.

He began to talk cheerfully to his mule, hoping to keep up its spirits, saying that if the poor beast would only be patient, help would surely come.

And so it did. Soon the poor brother reached the place, covered with mud from head to foot, but ready to do all he could to help the mule and his master. First they found some thick logs to lay on the marsh so they could reach the mule.

By this time the mule's frantic struggles had broken his bridle, and he was deeper than ever. Stepping carefully along the logs, the poor man grabbed the animal's tail, and with a desperate effort the mule managed to get back onto dry ground – but at the cost of leaving his tail in the poor man's hand.

When he saw this, the muleteer's anger knew no bounds. Forgetting that without the help he had been given he would have lost his mule completely, he began to curse the poor man, shouting that he had ruined the beast and that the law would make him pay for it.

Then he jumped on the mule's back – the animal was so glad to be out of the choking mud that he did not seem to mind the loss of his tail – and the ungrateful wretch rode on.

That evening he reached the inn at Evora, where the rich man and the farmer had already arrived for the night.

Meanwhile the poor brother walked wearily on, wondering what other dreadful adventures were in store for him. 'I will certainly be condemned for one of these things,' he thought sadly. 'After all, if I must die, I would rather choose my own death than leave it to my enemies.' As soon as he entered Evora, he looked for a place to carry out the plan he had made. At last he found what he was looking for, but it was too late and too dark for him to be sure of success. So he curled up under a doorway and slept until morning.

Although it was winter, the sun rose in a clear sky, and its rays felt almost warm when the poor man got up and shook himself. He meant this to be the day of his death.

But in spite of that, and the fact that he was leaving his wife and children behind, he felt almost cheerful. He had struggled so long, and was so very, very tired. He would not have minded if he could have proved his innocence and triumphed over his enemies.

But they had all been too clever for him, and he had no strength left to fight. So he climbed the stone steps that led to the battlements of the city and stopped for a moment to look around.

It happened that an old sick man who lived nearby had asked to be carried out and laid at the foot of the wall so that the beams of the rising sun could fall on him, and he could talk with his friends as they passed by on their way to work.

Little did he guess that on top of the battlements, right above his head, stood a man who was taking his last look at the same sun before going to his death. But so it was.

As the steeple opposite was touched by the golden light, the poor man shut his eyes and jumped forward. The wall was high, and he flew through the air. But he did not hit the ground – he landed on the body of the sick man, who rolled over and died without a groan.

As for the other, he was completely unhurt. He was slowly getting to his feet when his arms were suddenly grabbed and held.

'You have killed our father! Do you see? Do you see?' cried two young men. 'You must come with us right now before the judge and answer for it.'

'Your father? But I don't know him. What do you mean?' asked the poor man, who was completely confused by his sudden fall through the air and could not think why he should be accused of this new crime. But he got no answer. He was hurried through the streets to the courthouse, where his brother, the muleteer, and the farmer had just arrived. They were all as angry as ever, all talking at once, until the judge came in and told them to be quiet.

'I will hear you one by one,' he said, and nodded to the younger brother to begin.

He did not take long to state his case. The unfinished houses were his, left to him with the rest of the property by his father, and his brother refused to give them back. In answer, the poor man told briefly how he had begged the houses from his brother, and he produced the deed of gift that made him the owner.

The judge listened calmly and asked a few questions. Then he gave his verdict: 'The houses shall remain the property of the man to whom they were given and to whom they belong. And as for you,' he added, turning to the younger brother, 'since you brought this accusation knowing full well it was wicked and unjust, I order you, in addition to losing the houses, to pay a thousand pounds in damages to your brother.'

The rich man heard the judge with rage in his heart, and the poor man with surprise and gratitude. But he was not safe yet, for now it was the farmer's turn. The judge could hardly hide a smile at the story.

He asked if the wife was dead before the farmer left the house, and the farmer answered that he had been in such a hurry for justice that he had not waited to see. Then the poor man told his tale, and once again judgment was given in his favour.

The farmer was ordered to pay him twelve hundred pounds. As for the muleteer, the judge told him plainly that he had proved himself mean and ungrateful for the help he had been given. As a punishment, he must pay the poor man fifty pounds and hand over the mule until its tail had grown back.

Last came the two sons of the sick man. 'This is the wretch who killed our father,' they said. 'We demand that he die as well.'

'How did you kill him?' the judge asked the accused. The poor man told how he had jumped from the wall, not knowing that anyone was below.

'Well, this is my judgment,' replied the judge when they had all spoken. 'Let the accused sit under the wall, and let the sons of the dead man jump from the top and fall on him and kill him. If they will not do this, then they are condemned to pay eight hundred pounds for their false accusation.'

The young men looked at each other and slowly shook their heads. 'We will pay the fine,' they said. The judge nodded.

So the poor man rode the mule home, and brought back enough money to keep his family in comfort for the rest of their days.

Adapted from the Portuguese.