The Peasant and the Devil

In the days when the Devil still walked openly among mortals, seeking souls to corrupt and bargains to make, there lived a peasant farmer named Klaus who was known throughout his village for two remarkable qualities: his extraordinary cleverness and his unwavering honesty. Klaus worked a small plot of land that had been in his family for generations, and though he was not wealthy, he was content with his simple life and took pride in the quality of his crops.

Klaus had inherited not only his land but also his grandfather’s wisdom, passed down through stories told around the winter fire. “Remember, my boy,” his grandfather had often said, “the Devil is cunning, but he is also proud and impatient. A man who keeps his wits about him can often turn the Devil’s own cleverness against him.”

One particularly difficult spring, when the rains had been scarce and Klaus’s crops were struggling in the dry earth, he was working in his fields just as the sun began to set. The sky was painted in shades of orange and red, and the air was still and oppressive, as if a storm might be brewing despite the clear heavens.

As Klaus paused to wipe the sweat from his brow and survey his withering plants, a shadow fell across his field. Looking up, he saw a figure approaching—a tall man in an elegant black coat, with a pointed beard and eyes that seemed to glitter with an inner fire.

“Good evening, farmer,” the stranger called out in a voice as smooth as honey but with an undertone that made Klaus’s skin prickle with unease. “I see you’re having trouble with your crops.”

Klaus straightened slowly, his instincts warning him that this was no ordinary traveler. There was something about the man’s perfect appearance, the way his clothes showed no dust from the road, the way the dying light seemed to bend strangely around him.

“Good evening to you, sir,” Klaus replied carefully. “Yes, the drought has been hard on all the farmers hereabouts. But we’ll manage, God willing.”

The stranger’s eyes flashed at the mention of God, confirming Klaus’s suspicions about his identity. “God willing?” the figure repeated with a cold smile. “But what if God seems to be looking the other way? What if your crops fail and your family goes hungry? Wouldn’t you consider… alternative arrangements?”

“What kind of arrangements would those be?” Klaus asked, though he already suspected what he was about to hear.

The stranger’s smile widened, revealing teeth that were just a bit too sharp. “I am someone who can solve all your problems, my good Klaus. Yes, I know your name, and I know your circumstances. I can make your fields the most fertile in the region, ensure that your crops never fail, make you the wealthiest farmer in the kingdom. All I ask in return is a simple bargain.”

“And what would that bargain be?” Klaus inquired, his voice steady despite the chill that ran down his spine.

“Your soul, of course,” the Devil said casually, as if he were discussing the price of grain. “Sign a simple contract with me, and you’ll have seven years of unprecedented prosperity. After that… well, we’ll see what arrangements we can make.”

Klaus appeared to consider this offer seriously, stroking his chin thoughtfully. In truth, his mind was racing, remembering his grandfather’s stories and searching for a way to protect himself while perhaps even teaching this evil creature a lesson.

“Your offer is certainly tempting,” Klaus said finally. “But I’m a simple farmer, not learned in the ways of contracts and legal matters. If I were to consider such an arrangement, I would need to understand the terms completely.”

The Devil rubbed his hands together eagerly. “Of course, of course! I appreciate a man who reads the fine print. What would you like to know?”

“Well,” Klaus said, scratching his head as if puzzled, “if you’re going to make my fields prosperous, I assume that means we would be… partners of a sort. We would share in the work and share in the harvest.”

“Share the work?” The Devil looked slightly taken aback. “I hadn’t considered… that is, I usually prefer to work through… natural means. Weather, soil conditions, that sort of thing.”

Klaus nodded sagely. “Ah, but you see, that’s where I think your usual methods might not be quite fair. If we’re to be partners, we should both contribute our efforts. I propose this: let us plant this field together, work it together, and divide the harvest equally between us. If you can prove you’re a worthy partner through honest work, then perhaps we can discuss longer-term arrangements.”

The Devil was intrigued despite himself. He had been making bargains for souls for centuries, but this was a new approach. The peasant seemed willing to work with him, which would make the eventual corruption of his soul much easier. And how hard could farm work really be?

“Very well,” the Devil agreed. “We shall be partners for one growing season. But I insist on choosing what crop we grow.”

Klaus bowed politely. “As you wish, partner. What shall it be?”

The Devil looked over the field with a calculating expression. “Turnips,” he declared. “We shall grow turnips. And when harvest time comes, we shall divide them fairly—I shall take everything that grows above the ground, and you may have whatever grows below.”

Klaus struggled to keep his expression neutral. The Devil had just made a bargain that would leave him with the valuable turnip roots while giving the Devil only the worthless leaves and stems. But Klaus simply nodded agreement.

“An excellent choice, partner. Shall we shake on it?”

They shook hands, and Klaus felt a jolt of cold energy run up his arm. But he had committed to nothing more than a single season of partnership, with no mention of his soul, and he was confident he could handle whatever the Devil might try.

The next morning, the Devil appeared in Klaus’s field dressed in work clothes that looked suspiciously new and expensive. “Well, partner,” he said with false heartiness, “shall we begin our agricultural venture?”

Klaus handed him a hoe and pointed to one end of the field. “You start over there, and I’ll start here. We’ll meet in the middle.”

The Devil had never done manual labor in his existence, and he quickly discovered that commanding the forces of evil was much easier than breaking up clods of earth with a hoe. Within an hour, his hands were blistered, his back ached, and his fine clothes were soaked with sweat and stained with mud.

Klaus, meanwhile, worked with the steady rhythm of long practice, whistling cheerfully as he prepared the soil. By midday, when they stopped for lunch, the Devil had managed to prepare perhaps a tenth of the area that Klaus had completed.

“This is… more challenging than I anticipated,” the Devil admitted grudgingly.

“Oh, you’ll get the hang of it,” Klaus said encouragingly. “Farm work just takes practice. Here, try holding the hoe like this.”

Over the following weeks, Klaus watched with secret amusement as the Devil struggled with every aspect of farming. The proud creature of darkness stumbled over furrows, confused seeds and weeds, and complained constantly about the sun, the rain, the insects, and the physical labor.

But Klaus was patient and helpful, always ready with advice or assistance. “Remember, partner,” he would say, “farming is about working with nature, not against it. You have to understand the rhythms of the earth, the needs of the plants, the proper timing for each task.”

The Devil began to suspect that he had underestimated both the difficulty of farming and the cleverness of his supposed simple peasant partner. But he was committed to the bargain and determined to see it through.

When harvest time arrived, Klaus and the Devil stood together in the field, looking at the abundant crop of turnips they had grown. The Devil’s portion—everything above ground—consisted of green leaves and stems that were fit only for animal fodder. Klaus’s portion was the fat, nutritious turnip roots that represented the true value of the crop.

“It seems,” the Devil said slowly, “that I may have miscalculated the relative value of our respective shares.”

Klaus shrugged innocently. “You chose both the crop and the division method, partner. I simply agreed to your terms.”

The Devil’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you, you clever peasant?”

“I knew that turnips grow underground,” Klaus admitted. “Just as I know that potatoes grow underground, and carrots, and onions. Basically anything worth eating from a root vegetable grows underground.”

“Fine,” the Devil snarled, his false friendliness dropping away. “You’ve been clever this time. But I propose a second partnership for next season. This time, I shall take everything that grows below ground, and you may have what grows above.”

Klaus pretended to consider this carefully. “Well, since you were such a good sport about our first arrangement, I suppose I could agree to another season. What crop shall we grow this time?”

“I’ll leave that choice to you,” the Devil said with a cunning smile, thinking he had learned from his mistake.

“In that case,” Klaus said after a moment’s apparent deliberation, “let’s grow wheat. It should do well in this soil.”

The Devil agreed eagerly, certain that this time he would get the better of the bargain. Wheat grew above ground, after all—everyone knew that.

They shook hands again, and the Devil departed with a satisfied smirk, already imagining how he would enjoy the peasant’s disappointment when harvest time came.

The following spring, they began their second partnership. This time, the Devil was somewhat better prepared for the physical demands of farming, though he still grumbled constantly about the work. Klaus continued to be helpful and patient, sharing his knowledge and expertise freely.

As the wheat grew tall and golden, the Devil became increasingly pleased with himself. The grain-heavy stalks swayed in the breeze, promising a valuable harvest that would be entirely his according to their agreement.

But when harvest time arrived and they cut the wheat, Klaus calmly gathered all the grain-bearing stalks—everything that grew above ground—while the Devil was left with nothing but the stubble and roots remaining in the soil.

“This is impossible!” the Devil raged. “How can the roots and stubble be the worthless portion again?”

Klaus calmly bundled his wheat stalks, heavy with grain. “Well, you see, partner, with wheat it’s the grain that has value, and the grain grows on the stalks above ground. The roots are just… roots. They anchor the plant, but they’re not good for much else.”

The Devil realized he had been outwitted twice by the same clever peasant. His pride was stung, and his temper was rising dangerously.

“You think you’re very clever, don’t you?” the Devil snarled, his human disguise beginning to slip away, revealing glimpses of horns and scales beneath.

“I think I’m a farmer who knows his business,” Klaus replied calmly. “And I think you’re a creature who’s spent so much time dealing in abstract concepts like souls and damnation that you’ve forgotten how the practical world works.”

This truth struck the Devil like a physical blow. He had indeed become so focused on grand schemes and spiritual corruption that he had lost touch with the simple realities of earthly life.

“Very well,” the Devil said, his voice now carrying an ominous rumble that made the ground beneath their feet tremble. “You have proven clever enough to outwit me in matters of farming. But perhaps you would be interested in a different sort of contest—one where your peasant cleverness might not serve you so well.”

Klaus felt the temperature around them drop several degrees, and he knew he was now facing the Devil’s true nature rather than his false human appearance.

“What sort of contest did you have in mind?” Klaus asked, keeping his voice steady despite the supernatural dread that pressed down upon him.

“A test of strength,” the Devil replied, his form now clearly demonic—horns, scales, and eyes like burning coals. “Three challenges, and the winner takes all. If you win, I will leave you and your family in peace forever, and your fields will prosper through your own honest efforts. If I win…”

“If you win, you get my soul,” Klaus finished. “Very well, but I have one condition. Since you’ve already proven that you prefer to make agreements that seem to favor you, I insist that the challenges be of my choosing.”

The Devil was so confident in his supernatural strength that he agreed without hesitation. “Choose your challenges, mortal. But know that you face powers beyond your comprehension.”

Klaus looked around the farmyard, his mind working quickly. “The first challenge,” he said, “will be to see who can throw a stone the farthest.”

The Devil laughed—a sound like grinding millstones. “Child’s play. I accept.”

Klaus reached into his pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a smooth, round stone. “You may go first.”

The Devil selected a large rock from Klaus’s field and hurled it with supernatural force. It flew so far that it disappeared beyond the horizon, and several seconds later they heard the distant crash as it landed.

“Beat that, mortal,” the Devil said smugly.

Klaus hefted his “stone” and squinted at the sky. “You threw yours far,” he admitted, “but I don’t think it left the earth entirely. Watch this.”

Klaus drew back his arm and hurled his stone high into the air. But what he had thrown was not a stone at all—it was one of his white chickens that he had grasped so quickly the Devil hadn’t seen clearly in the fading light. The bird, startled but unhurt, spread its wings and flew away into the distance.

“There,” Klaus said with satisfaction. “Mine hasn’t even come down yet. I believe that makes me the winner of the first challenge.”

The Devil stared into the sky where the “stone” had disappeared, realizing he had been tricked but unable to prove it without admitting he had failed to observe carefully.

“Very well,” the Devil growled. “The second challenge?”

“A test of who can lift the heaviest weight,” Klaus announced.

Again, the Devil was confident. He strode over to Klaus’s cart, which was loaded with the recent turnip harvest—easily a ton of vegetables. With a grunt of effort that cracked the ground beneath his feet, the Devil lifted the entire cart over his head.

“Your turn, peasant,” he said, setting the cart down with a crash.

Klaus walked over to a different part of the yard, where his young daughter was playing with her rag doll. “Greta,” he called, “come here, sweetheart.”

The little girl, no more than five years old, ran to her father with a delighted laugh. Klaus scooped her up in his arms and lifted her high above his head, spinning her around as she giggled with joy.

“There,” Klaus said, setting his daughter gently on her feet. “I have lifted something that weighs far more than your cart.”

“What are you talking about?” the Devil snarled. “That child weighs hardly anything!”

Klaus smiled serenely. “Ah, but you misunderstand the nature of weight, my demonic friend. That little girl carries within her all my hopes for the future, all my love, all my dreams for what she might become. She bears the weight of my family’s legacy, my ancestors’ struggles, and the promise of generations yet to come. No cart full of turnips could possibly be heavier than that.”

The Devil found himself speechless. By the strict terms of the challenge, Klaus had indeed lifted something of immense weight—just not the kind of weight the Devil had been thinking of.

“The final challenge,” Klaus announced before the Devil could recover his composure, “will be to see who can endure the greatest hardship.”

Now the Devil was certain he would win. He was a creature of Hell itself, accustomed to eternal torment and supernatural suffering. What hardship could a mortal peasant possibly endure that would compare to the Devil’s own existence?

“I accept,” the Devil said confidently. “What form shall this test take?”

Klaus thought for a moment. “We shall each spend one full day living the other’s life,” he said. “You shall spend a day living as I do, and I shall spend a day living as you do. Whoever complains first or asks to stop the test loses the challenge.”

The Devil agreed eagerly, thinking this would be the easiest victory of the three challenges.

The next morning, Klaus found himself transported to the depths of Hell, surrounded by fire and brimstone, the air thick with sulfur and the sounds of eternal torment echoing all around him. It was indeed a terrible place, filled with anguish and despair.

But Klaus had spent his entire life dealing with hardship—drought, failed crops, poverty, the death of loved ones, the constant struggle to provide for his family. He understood suffering as an inevitable part of life, and he had learned to endure it by focusing on hope, love, and the promise of better days to come.

Even in Hell, Klaus found small comforts. He spoke kindly to the tormented souls he encountered, offering what comfort he could. He helped where he was able and maintained his inner peace by thinking of his wife and daughter, of his fields and his simple cottage, of all the things that made life worth living.

Meanwhile, the Devil was experiencing Klaus’s daily life. He rose before dawn to tend the animals, worked in the fields under the hot sun, dealt with the mundane problems of farming life—a sick cow, a broken fence, weeds that needed pulling.

But worse than the physical labor was the emotional weight of responsibility. The Devil found himself worrying about Klaus’s family, feeling the pressure of needing to provide for them, experiencing the grinding anxiety of never knowing if the next harvest would be sufficient to see them through the winter.

By midday, the Devil was exhausted not just physically but emotionally. He had never felt the weight of caring for others, the constant low-level fear of failure, the grinding persistence required to keep going day after day with no guarantee of success.

“I cannot bear this!” the Devil finally cried out, collapsing in Klaus’s field. “How do mortals endure such constant worry and responsibility? How do you find the strength to keep going when the outcome is never certain?”

At that moment, Klaus found himself back in his own field, while the Devil sat gasping in the dust. He had won the third challenge by default when his opponent had given up.

“The answer,” Klaus said gently, “is that we don’t endure it alone. We have love, hope, faith, and each other. Those are things you’ve never understood, and that’s why you lost.”

The Devil looked up at Klaus with something that might have been respect. “You have defeated me fairly,” he admitted. “In two challenges through cleverness, and in the third through the strength of your human spirit. I am bound by our agreement to leave you in peace.”

Klaus nodded gravely. “I appreciate that. But before you go, let me offer you some advice, as one… entity to another.”

The Devil was surprised. “Advice? From you to me?”

“Yes,” Klaus said seriously. “You’ve spent so much time focused on corruption and evil that you’ve forgotten what you’re actually fighting against. How can you effectively oppose good if you don’t understand it? How can you tempt people away from love and hope if you don’t understand why those things are valuable?”

The Devil considered this unexpected wisdom. “What are you suggesting?”

“I’m suggesting that maybe you should spend some time learning about the good in humanity before you try to destroy it,” Klaus said. “You might find that understanding your opponents makes you… well, if not a better person, then at least a more effective adversary.”

The Devil was quiet for a long moment. “That is… surprisingly thoughtful advice,” he said finally. “Perhaps there is more to mortal wisdom than I realized.”

“There usually is,” Klaus agreed. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have turnips to harvest and a family to feed.”

The Devil departed, but not quite as he had arrived. He had learned something about the nature of humanity, about the strength that comes from love and responsibility, about the wisdom that can be found in the simplest lives.

Klaus returned to his farming, secure in the knowledge that he had protected his family and his soul through wit, wisdom, and an understanding of what truly matters in life. His crops prospered through his own honest efforts, just as the Devil had promised, and he lived to be a very old man, always ready with advice for anyone who found themselves facing seemingly impossible challenges.

The story of Klaus and the Devil became a favorite throughout the region, told around winter fires as a reminder that cleverness, courage, and a good heart could triumph over even the greatest evil. And perhaps most importantly, it taught that sometimes the best way to defeat an enemy is to help them understand what they’re truly fighting against.