Magic Pockets

In the land of Wessex there lived a young man of humble birth named William, who, having reached the age of manhood, chose a comely village girl for his bride. As is customary in those rural areas, the entire village celebrated their nuptials with music, dancing and games of sport. Their lord and liege donated a stag and a boar from his own game lands for the occasion, and the village women prepared a feast to do them proud.

The young couple received many gifts from friends and relatives to get them started in their life together: cooking utensils, food stores, hand-woven blankets and many other necessities to furnish the small thatch-roofed hut that William had built for his wife. Only one gift seemed out of place, one given to the young man by is great aunt, a woman whose name was spoken only in whispers in that part of Wessex, a woman long suspected of being a witch. She presented William—her favorite relative, mind you—not with a good sturdy kettle, a grinding stone or even a chicken to provide him and his wife with fresh eggs, but only a pair of pants.

The villagers looked at one another with the unspoken message: "Leave it to that crazy old woman to give him such a foolish wedding gift."

But young William had always had a fondness for the strange old woman, and he praised her gift loudly so all would hear.

"These are the finest pants I ever owned," he proclaimed.

The old woman beamed with pride and affection for him.

"Those pants," she confided, "are all you'll ever need in life."

Several villagers bit their lips to keep from laughing, but most kept their silence for fear of the old woman's supposed magic powers.

* * *

A month after the wedding, the young man and his father were felling a number of sturdy oak trees to clear land for planting. For the first time, the newlywed farmer was wearing the pants his great aunt had given him on his wedding day. After several hours of backbreaking labor, the two exhausted men, who had worked up quite a sweat, stopped working to take a drink of water from their flagons. Since the day was hot and the water warm, it did little to quench their thirst.

"Oh, what I wouldn't give for a nice, cold tankard of ale right now," William said wistfully as he wiped the perspiration from his brow.

Then, as he bent to pick up his axe to continue chopping, he felt a heavy weight inside his pants pocket. He reached inside and took out a bottle of ale, cold as though it had been sitting for several hours in a cool mountain stream.

"Where on earth did that come from?" his father asked with wonder.

"I don't know. I put my hand inside my pocket, and there it was."

"It's bewitched!" the father exclaimed, crossing himself to ward off any evil spirits. "Quick! Get rid of it."

William, who did not share the superstitions of his elders, ignored his father's warning and removed the stopper from the bottle.

"Bewitched or not," he laughed. "I'm hot and thirsty, and I'll not waste good ale just because I can't explain where it came from."

The father looked closely at his son, wondering if the lad had been tainted by the queer blood that flowed in his wife's family. He believed beyond a shadow of a doubt that her aunt was a witch. Had he not seen with his own eyes her strange healing powers and heard her uncanny predictions that always came true? Thankfully, his wife had no such powers; she was a simple peasant woman who cared only about having a full stomach and a warm, dry place in which to sleep at night. But could her son—their son—be a witch like his great aunt?

* * *

A similar unexplainable event happened the following week, again when William was wearing the pants given to him by his great aunt. He and his wife were walking through the woods on their way to the village when they spotted a dog whose leg was caught in a tangle of vines.

"We've got to help the poor thing," his wife said.

"If I had my knife with me I could help, but ...."

No sooner had William spoken these words than he felt the weight of the tool in his pocket. As he took the knife out and proceeded to cut the dog loose, the young man remembered his great aunt's words to him when she gave him the pair of trousers: "Those pants are all you'll ever need in life."

So the tales he'd heard whispered about his great aunt were true! She was a witch. This revelation did not bother him in the least. In fact, it opened up new possibilities in his life. The pants were magic; and during the next few weeks, William put them to the test several times. They never failed him.

"Where did you get all this food?" his wife asked when he came home for the third time in a week with an armful of fresh bread and vegetables.

"I've been helping people out here and there, and they rewarded me with food and ale."

The wife eyed him with suspicion.

"You sure you're not stealing it?"

William laughed.

"I wouldn't risk losing my hand over food unless I was starving."

What his wife didn't know was that her husband bartered for the food with goods he had found in the pockets of his magic pants.

Eventually, William, who had once wanted nothing more than to have a roof over his head and food on his table, yearned for more. He soon pulled gold and precious gems from out of his pockets rather than simple tools and bottles of ale. Within a matter of months, William became one of the richest men in all of Wessex, and the young couple and both their families moved to a fine house. Yet the great aunt, the giver of the pants, refused to leave her simple hut.

"No, I'm happy where I am," she insisted. "If I had wanted to live in a fine house, I could have done so long ago."

"But wouldn't like to spend your final years in comfort?" the young man pressed. "I promise you'll want for nothing."

"Wanting is a peculiar disease. The more you want, the less satisfied you are with what you get. You think you'll be happy in your new house, but before the first snow falls, you'll think the place is too small and you'll want a larger one."

The great aunt's predictions proved true, just as they always did. William's wife demanded fine gowns and jewels to adorn her body, and lavish parties and feasts to entertain her.

"This house is not good enough for us," she complained. "We should have a castle and a title."

"I don't see how we can get a title. Despite our great fortune, we were still born peasants."

"There's nothing gold can't buy."

William dug deeper into his pockets, and soon he and his family moved into a large castle. But the newly knighted Sir William had to assume all the responsibilities that went along with owning a large amount of land. He didn't like having to settle squabbles among his vassals, nor did he enjoy the company of his fellow landowners who talked of nothing but war and politics.

* * *

"We'll have to levy more taxes," Sir Elric said, pouring himself a glass of wine. "The king wants to raise an army to fight the French."

"War with France will bankrupt the kingdom!" Sir Richard exclaimed.

William ignored the heated arguments of his fellow knights and stared into the fire with moody silence.

"What say you, William?" Elric shouted across the room. "Do you want to spend your money to further the king's cause?"

"I grow bored with taxes and armies," he said wearily. "All I want to do is go home and get a good night's sleep."

"You sound like a peasant," Richard laughed, unaware of William's lack of pedigree.

"I suppose I do. My lords, enjoy your wine. I am going home."

It was several days' journey before he returned to his own castle. When he arrived home, his wife, decked in one of her fine gowns and laden with jewelry, greeted him with a list of further luxuries she wanted.

William sighed.

"If these things will make you happy," he said with resignation, "then I'll get them for you."

He went up the staircase to his bedchamber to get his magic pants, but they were not to be found. He ran down the stairs calling for his wife.

"What is, my dear?" she asked.

"Where are my pants, the ones my great aunt gave me?"

"Those ugly old things?" The wife, unaware that the pants' pockets were the source of all their wealth, then admitted to her husband, "I gave them away to a beggar who stopped here while you were gone. He was wearing nothing but rags and was glad to receive them."

William stared at his wife for several minutes and then burst out laughing.

"You have given away our fortune," he said with unconcealed joy.

"Are you mad? 'Twas nothing more than an old pair of pants."

William then confessed his secret.

He concluded his story saying, "What they say about my great aunt is true. She is a witch, and those pants she gave me were magic."

Once she realized her husband was telling the truth, the wife collapsed in tears.

* * *

The couple and their families lived at the castle for nearly two more years. But the young lady of the manor, who had gotten a taste for the "finer" things in life, could not curb her spending. Finally, with their fortune gone and with no means to replenish it, William, his wife and their families returned to the village from whence they came. All of them, except for William, were sorry to leave the splendor and comfort of the castle.

"Maybe your great aunt will give you another pair of magic pants," the wife said hopefully.

"There's no need for another pair," he said wisely. "I kept the wonderful gift I found in the pockets."

"But we lost all our possessions," she cried.

"Oh yes, but the true gift in those pants was the knowledge I gained from the experience."

William then smiled and walked back into his old hut, grateful that he had a roof over his head and food to put on his table.