About Fearless Anča
Since ancient times, people have avoided the mill by the forest, as it was said to be haunted. There was some truth to it. Every evening, lights appeared in the windows. In the village, it was also rumored that all the devils from the area visited the mill. But no one could confirm it. Until now, no one brave enough had ventured there.
One evening, the village folk were sitting under the linden tree on the village green. The old night watchman joined them. He lit his pipe and listened to the young people chatting. They talked about all sorts of things. Suddenly, the reeve’s Jakub said:
“Uncle, what’s the story with the mill? Tell us something about it.”
The night watchman didn’t need much encouragement and replied, “At night, when I walk through the silent, sleeping village and announce midnight with my horn, I see strange shadows flickering in that place.”
“But uncle, that’s just your imagination,” said Anča, the local blacksmith’s daughter. “Sleep settles on your eyelids and you start seeing things.”
“No, girl, it’s not tiredness. At night I’m as lively as a fish. I sleep during the day and go on duty in the evening. I’m a night owl.”
“You’re right about that,” Anča agreed. “So what really happens there?”
The night watchman just shrugged. “I can’t answer that.”
“You know what? I’ll go to the mill!” Anča declared boldly. “I’ll get to the bottom of that tricky mystery.”
“Unlucky girl, how could you think of such recklessness? Surely all sorts of monsters and beasts are having their revels there,” the night watchman tried to scare her.
“I’m not afraid of anything,” the girl boasted.
It slowly began to get dark. Everyone went to their cottages. Soon, darkness settled over the village. The moon soon rose. Anča set out for those mysterious places. The path led her to the forest. At first it was wide, then it narrowed. On both sides, thick brambles and tall thistles bordered it. No human foot had stepped there for years. Before she knew it, she was standing in front of the mill. In the distance, an owl hooted ominously. Nearby, a stray bird croaked.
Lights shone in all the windows. Loud noise and commotion came from the building. Anča’s heart almost stopped from it all, but she gathered her courage.
“When Dad hammers on the anvil in the smithy, it’s nothing compared to this racket.”
She carefully climbed onto the roof. She crawled into the chimney and jumped into the unknown. Covered in soot, she climbed out of the fireplace. Suddenly, she found herself in a spacious room. At a large table sat about a dozen devils. They were drinking beer from tankards. The devils shouted and bellowed over one another. Some were arguing. All the fiends rattled their iron chains.
“It sure is lively here!” Anča said out loud.
As soon as the devils saw her, they fell silent. They stared at her in amazement. They couldn’t believe their eyes. No mortal would dare disturb them at such a late hour. Anča stood before them, all black. Only her white eyes shone. The horned ones quickly recovered. The biggest and ugliest one roared at her in a thunderous voice: “What are you doing here? Never has a living soul dared to enter here.”
“Alive or dead,” Anča retorted, “what does it matter? I came to play you a different tune. Who wants to listen to your wailing all the time? We can hear it all the way in our village. Because of you, no one can sleep.”
Before the devils knew what was happening, she pulled bagpipes out of her bag and squeezed the bellows hard. A piercing, shrill sound came from the instrument. The fiends nearly went deaf. They begged her to stop.
“But dear fellows, I haven’t even started playing properly!” she scolded them, refusing to be interrupted.
The devils covered their ears with their hands, but it was no use. The screeching melody pierced them to the bone.
“Stop! Your music is giving us goosebumps all over,” they wailed.
So Anča stopped playing, quite surprised:
“I see I’m not appreciated. I wanted to play you something to dance to. You’re not much for dancing! At our village fair, when the band starts, all the lads from around spin in the dance.”
The devils sighed with relief. What a relief it was for them. A heavenly calm settled in the room. Anča put the bagpipes back in her sack.
“So you don’t say I came empty-handed, I brought you something to snack on.”
She reached into her sack again and pulled out a big bottle. She gave each of them a little of the clear liquid. She poured only a few drops into her own cup.
“Well then, let’s toast to our meeting,” Anča said. Glasses clinked and everyone drank. The devils’ eyes nearly popped out of their sockets from the drink. It burned their throats.
“What kind of poison is this? Are you trying to kill us all?” one of the hulks gasped, barely able to breathe.
“Handsome lads, this is the brandy my dad distilled this year. He told me to bring it for you to taste. He’s planning to visit you at midnight. If I told you he can knock out a bear with one blow, you wouldn’t believe me. His hands are like shovels. He wants to find a new apprentice among you. The last one ran away just today when he found out he’d have to work in the smithy from morning till night.”
When the devils heard about work, they got scared. They never liked work. They were used to feasting and reveling. One of them groaned, “Such a strongman would surely break all our bones.”
Another agreed, “We’d better not let him break our necks. Let’s run for it.”
Before midnight struck, the horned ones scattered like a flock of sparrows. Since then, they have never shown up at the mill again. Anča returned to the village and told everyone how she chased away the uninvited guests.
It wasn’t long before she moved into the mill with her beloved Jíra. Life returned there once more. The mill wheel turned again. Since then, it’s said that the best flour is milled by the miller from the forest mill. People say it’s not just by chance. They claim all the devils help him.
Translated into English by artificial intelligence