A balmy summer breeze blew the clouds in the sky slightly to one side to reveal a full moon. Havránek was well aware that forest herbs have their greatest efficacy on such a night. That is why he had set off to gather secret ingredients for Pipetka the pharmacist, who not only knew how to mix up the best ointment for rheumatism this side of the Lusatian Mountains, but also distilled the best herbal bitters. Havránek had not yet collected half basket when he heard gentle sobbing coming from the valley of the sunken quarry.
“Who is weeping there so sadly?” thought Havránek to himself and he set off across the bridge and down the old oak lane to the lake.
Kristýnka the lake fairy was sitting on the bank and weeping so much that the water in the lake was overflowing.
“Whatever happened to make you cry so, Kristýnka?” asked Havránek and he gave Kristýnka a handkerchief made of burdock leaves.
Kristýnka stopped sobbing for a moment and wiped her eyes.
“I’m not allowed to dance on the surface at night, because it disturbs the sleep of Puškvorec the water sprite”, sobbed Kristýnka. “Every night that we fairies don’t dance shortens our lives. If I don’t dance the entire week, I’ll dry up and dissolve into the lake.”
“And what is Puškvorec doing here? Has he come for the wedding of Kapička the water sprite?” asked Havránek quickly when he saw that Kristýnka was once again on the verge of tears.
“Not at all. Kapička the water sprite has gone to Jičín to help Česílka count the carp. Puškvorec found out about it and came with his suitcase along the water from Lake Mácha. It looks like he wants to stay here for good,” explained Kristýnka and started crying again.
“You’ll dry out even sooner, if you keep crying like that. Stop it and no worry. I’ll sort it out”, said Havránek to comfort havránek Kristýnka. He picked up a large rock and banged it on another rock lying on the bank of the lake. Bubbles rose to the surface and the dishevelled green head of Puškvorec the water sprite rose from the reeds by the bank.
“Why are you disturbing me, person?” croaked Puškvorec angrily. “I’m here for a spa treatment and I need my peace and quiet!”
“I know that our clean water does you good, but, if you took care of your own water at home like old Kapička does here, you wouldn’t have to go to a spa for treatment. And if you stop Kristýnka from dancing on the surface, I will chase you out of our lake and that will be that”, said Havránek to Puškvorec angrily.
“I would like to know how you think you can achieve that seeing as how you don’t have gills”, chuckled Puškvorec and he disappeared below the surface.
“I’ll come up with something”, said Havránek and he winked at Kristýnka. “Don’t worry. Tomorrow, you’ll dance on the lake at midnight or my name isn’t Havránek”.
In the morning, he took the collected herbs to Pipetka the pharmacist and received a bottle of herbal bitters in return.
As he was leaving the pharmacy, two wagons were standing on the street. The first, which was hitched to a white horse, belonged to Titěra the carter from the lower square and the second with a chestnut horse belonged to Homůlka the carter from the upper square. While the horses chatted together in their equine language, Titěra and Homůlka were arguing over who was the best carter, as they did every morning.
“I can take a wagon full of beer barrels to the other side of the Lusatian Mountains on time even in winter when the snowdrifts are metres high,” boasted Titěra.
“That’s nothing,” replied Homůlka. “By the time you get there with the beer, I will have taken a wagon full of sacks of flour to Jablonné and still had time to return!”
Havránek listened to them for a while with amusement. He knew their song my heart, because they had the same argument there every morning and their jibes were part of the local colour of the town, just like the chiming of the bells in the spire of Saint Bartholomew’s Church. At that moment, he had the kind of idea that comes just when a person needs it most.
“You have the same argument here every morning and you still haven’t settled it. So have a race and then we’ll find out which of the two of you is fastest,” suggested Havránek to them.
“That’s easy for you to say,” answered Titěra. “But if we head off down the street at full speed, the tiles will fall off the roofs of all the houses!”
“And who says you have to race in the town? Come to the sunken quarry outside the town before twilight. The road around the lake is just wide enough for two wagons. I’ll start it for you and the winner will receive this bottle of herbal bitters from me.”
“And how many laps will we do?” asked Homůlka.
“I think that three laps should probably do it”, said Havránek waggishly and once the two carters had shaken on it he set off to the lake to draw the starting line.
When the sun began to plump up a cushion of red clouds, Havránek sat on a rock, lit his pipe with lichen tobacco and spoke with Kristýnka who was sweeping the lake’s surface of fallen leaves:
“Things are going to happen here shortly. You should probably hide in the reeds so that you don’t get too much of a fright.”
At that moment the carters’ wagons approached the lake along the Oak Lane. One was pulled by a white horse and the other by a chestnut. Both horses winked at one another, as if they had secretly arranged something. The metal-lined wheels of the wagons rumbled along the rocky road with such a noise that all the fish hid under the bank.
“Don’t worry little fish, nothing will happen to you. You’ll just have to put up with the noise for a short while”, said Havránek soothingly and he went and got ready at the starting line. The sun was just dropping below the horizon and that was the time when Puškvorec went to bed. Titěra and Homůlka stopped their wagons in front of the starting line.
“The race will start as soon as I wave this birch branch. You will do three laps of the lake and whoever crosses the line first will win this bottle of herbal bitters”, said Havránek by way of a starting speech. He took up position on a rock next to the road so that he could have a good view of the proceedings and started counting down out loud:
“Get ready, on your marks, go!”
The horses started racing side by side, as if each wanted to make sure that the other one was not getting ahead. They increased speed and both the carters stood on the wagon seats and spurred them on to even greater speed. The wooden wheels thundered over the stones and sparks flew from the horses’ hooves like fireworks. Waves arose on the surface of the lake even though there was absolutely no wind. When they had completed the first lap, Puškvorec looked out of the reeds and angrily croaked at Havránek:
“Stop them, person, or my gills will burst from all the noise. This isn’t a spa, but an artillery range!”
“If you think they can be stopped, then stop them yourself. I don’t intend to jump beneath their wheels”, said Havránek and it was apparent that not even the greatest water sprite’s strength could get him to budge from his rock. The wagons drove past them and set off on their second lap. Homůlka’s chestnut deliberately stomped even more heavily. Sparks flew from his hooves like from a blacksmith’s forge and fell on Puškvorec’s head where they burned his hat, hissed and went out.
“Ow”, croaked Puškvorec, as he scrambled onto the bank, stopped in the middle of the road and spread out his arms, as if he was trying to take the wind in his embrace. The wagons approached him along the road, side by side, and Puškvorec croaked at them:
“Stop, you scoundrels, or I will turn you into fish fry!”
The carters didn’t see him or maybe they didn’t want to see him in the heat of the battle. The horses raced towards him at an enormous speed and, as the temperature had dropped since the sun had gone down, steam snorted from their nostrils. Puškvorec mumbled something incomprehensible and only managed to jump into the lake at the last moment. However, in his haste he had and at the last moment succeeded in jumping into the lake. However, in his haste he had forgotten that the water was shallow near the bank and he banged his head on the bottom of the lake. Havránek laughed so hard his belly shook and Puškvorec disappeared beneath the surface blushing. The carters had not yet completed half of the last lap when Puškvorec scrambled up onto the other bank with his suitcase. He babbled something to himself about how nobody would ever see him there again and set off towards the river.
“Have a safe trip”, called Havránek after him, but he had to be careful because both the wagons were approaching him at the finish line. The horses winked at one another and made sure that they both finished at the same time. Havránek waved the end of the race with his birch branch. The wagons stopped and both carters hurried over to Havránek.
“So who was the fastest?” they both wanted to know.
“There’s nothing for it”, said Havránek, “but you both finished together. You both win the bottle of herbal bitters and I would be pleased if you would drink it together to my health.”
The carters shook hands, wished Havránek good health, got in their wagons and slowly set off along the oak lane to the town. Havránek could still hear Titěra saying to Homůlka:
“If I had had my white horse freshly shoed yesterday, I would have been sure to have one!”
“Don’t talk twaddle”, replied Homůlka. If I had not given my chestnut so many oats this afternoon, I definitely would have won.” Only their horses knew the truth.
Havránek laughed and said to Kristýnka, who was happily dancing on the bank:
“When you’ve finished your dance Kristýnka, don’t forget to do the dishes and change the water sprite’s bed so that Kapička can come home to a clean house!”
