Seven in One Blow

Only one person in the world mattered to the village’s little tailor: himself. 

With every coat he mended, every sock he sewed, the tailor worked knowing that every stitch would help to bring about his own glory and renown. Word spread through his village, and those nearby, that he was the best tailor around. Still, it wasn’t enough. The tailor wanted more. 

One afternoon, as the sun let its hazy rays shine over the tailor’s work table, some flies buzzed in through the open window. Sweating and fretting over his work, the tailor became irritated at constantly swatting the flies away. He picked up a nearby rag and whipped it at the flies, hitting spot-on. He pulled the rag away and stared at the seven flies lying dead on the table. 

“Seven in one blow,” he murmured. The phrase echoed in his mind. Seven in one blow. 

A wave of drowsiness washed over the tailor, as if he had become exhausted from his simple feat. He leaned back in his chair and let his eyelids fall closed. Like a lullaby, the phrase seven in one blow sang him to sleep. His dreams were of grandeur and fame, with people from every village and even the royal family hailing the man who had killed seven in one blow. 

When the tailor awoke, he knew what he had to do.

Abandoning his previous project, he began on a sash to wear as a belt. The tailor worked more tirelessly than he ever had, completing the sash in a single night. The colour was bright red so it couldn’t possibly be missed. Embroidered in gold was the phrase “seven in one blow.”

The tailor tied the sash proudly around his waist and tucked in his shirt so the words would be visible to all. And then, having a feeling that he had hit upon a wonderful idea, he set off to become something greater than a tailor. He would journey far off past the villages, and present his amazing skills to the king. 

On his way to the castle, the tailor felt the ground shake like an earthquake. He began to look for shelter until he noticed the hulking form of a giant still a ways off. The tailor smiled to himself, sure that he could take some token from this giant to the king to show how powerful he was. 

He approached the giant, who was dragging a tree over his shoulder. The giant didn’t see him, of course, so the tailor called, “Hello, friend!” (He had found this was the surest way of making people assume his intentions were innocent.) 

The giant looked this way and that before discovering where the voice was coming from. The giant frowned, squinting at the tailor’s belt. “Seven men in one blow?” he asked, misunderstanding the tailor’s belt just as the tailor had intended. “You must be strong enough to help me carry this tree.” 

“Certainly!” the tailor called. He could see that the giant was exhausted, as the day was hot and humid. “I’ll carry the branches so they won’t scratch you.” He took up the back end of the tree and found a comfortable spot in the branches. He let the giant drag him with the tree, but pretended to be hauling his weight whenever the giant paused for breath. 

The giant’s breaks became more and more frequent as time went on, until eventually he looked back at the tailor, blinking as sweat dripped into his eyes. “I might need to rest for a bit.” 

“Rest?” the tailor asked incredulously, jogging in place. “Well, I suppose if you’re tired and you really think you can’t go on, I can keep on carrying it by myself. I'm not tired at all.”

The giant seemed to puzzle over his words, then turned with a grunt and continued dragging the tree. The tailor enjoyed his shady ride, refreshing himself with provisions he had brought for his journey. The giant tried to stop again and again, but the tailor manipulated him into continuing every time. 

Finally, the giant slowed, then stopped. “I think…” he muttered, and then fell over with a great crash. The tailor sprung up and raided the giant’s pockets. He broke up some of the food he found there so it would fit into his own sack and also purloined a huge, magnificent hat. Though the tailor hated to crush such workmanship, he folded up the hat as small as he could and stuffed it in his sack. 

With one last look at the sick giant, the tailor continued on. A few days passed by before he entered a vast forest. While making his way through shrubbery and low branches, the tailor heard galloping hooves. Quick as a streak of white lightning, a unicorn appeared and charged at him. The tailor sidestepped, and the unicorn lodged its horn in the tree just behind the tailor with a force that made a loud crack. The unicorn’s horn split and the beast fell over, unmoving. The tailor took the part of the horn that was embedded in the tree and stuffed it in his sack as well. He went on through the forest, leaving the dead unicorn behind him. 

He came to the king’s castle and met a beautiful woman just outside the gates. She revealed herself as the king’s sole daughter, the princess, and said that only people of distinction were allowed through the gates. 

“I’ve defeated seven in one blow,” the tailor said, gesturing to his belt. “I’ve bested a giant and a unicorn. The king should see me.” 

“Only if you now best me,” the princess said. “You have shown that you have great strength, but now I will test your wits. Discern the answer to this riddle:

I am in the heart of every man:

Every pauper, every king, every village, every clan. 

Gold and silver do not satisfy me,

Power and influence give me strength,

I can make a man go to any lengths. 

Few have overcome me, 

I cannot be defeated, 

And when you die unsatisfied, my purpose is completed. 

The tailor smiled. He knew the answer because it was as close to him as his own shadow. Without hesitation, he responded: “Greed.” 

The princess frowned at his quick answer and handed over a grand emerald ring. “Give this to the king,” she said, “and you will be granted an audience with him.” 

The guards let the tailor through the gates once he showed them the ring, and he was allowed access all the way to the king’s throne room. He approached the king, seated on a central throne with his six sons split on either side of him, and showed him the princess’ ring as well as the giant’s hat and the unicorn’s horn. He displayed his sash and explained how he had beaten a giant, a unicorn, and the princess herself. 

The king was extremely impressed. “If you can give me proof that you really can kill seven in one blow, I will allow you to marry the princess.” 

The tailor knew that if he married the princess, he had a chance of being king one day; but waiting around to be king wasn’t enough. He immediately came up with an idea of what he could do to show the king his prowess and gain what he’d been seeking at the same time. “I will be back here tomorrow at the same time. As you and your sons feast, I will prove to you that I am who I claim to be.” 

The tailor had a few preparations made that night and came back to the king’s throne room the next day. The king and his sons sat on their thrones and the tailor gave a grand soliloquy as they began to eat and drink. The tailor dragged his speech on for longer and longer until one by one, each of the princes slumped over, the goblets of wine in their hands crashing to the floor. When only the king was left, he looked around in distress. 

“I told you,” the tailor said as the king himself closed his eyes, succumbing to the poison in the wine, “seven in one blow.” 

The tailor, of course, took no responsibility for the demise of the king and his sons. Brushing over how the death of the king had taken place, the tailor insisted that the ruler’s last request had been for him to marry the princess and become king. No one would defy the man who had killed seven in one blow, so it was done. 

The tailor lived a long life of struggle and strife, fighting every day to keep himself alive from those who saw his craftiness as evil. His overzealous greed bred more greed throughout his kingdom, until everything fell into chaos. Other kingdoms attacked, and no one would rally to fight for him. By the time the little tailor was an old man, his life and his kingdom were in ruins. 

As he lay in the last few hours of his life, his wife, the princess who had told him the riddle of greed so long ago, came to his side. 

“If you could live your life again,” she asked, “would you choose the same path?” 

The tailor-turned-king thought, and thought, and thought some more. “I think,” he confessed, mustering the last of his strength, “if I had the chance, I might try being kind.” 

The princess smiled, the only time the tailor had ever seen her do so. “I can see that what you have spoken is true. Go now; your wish is granted.” 

The tailor awoke gasping, awed to find himself at his work table from the little hut he had abandoned so long ago. Lying on the wood were the seven dead flies, freshly killed, and within arm’s reach was the red fabric and golden thread he had used to create his belt. 

But when the tailor looked down, no belt was tied around his waist. He rubbed his head and tried to make sense of it all. The memories of his journey to the castle, becoming king, and struggling through life were so vivid that he was sure he had lived them. And yet here he was, many years earlier, before he had even made the belt. He reached for the red fabric, but as he did, his own words resounded in his head: 

If I had the chance, I might try being kind. 

The tailor hesitated. He let his hand fall. Carefully, he scooped up the bodies of the dead flies and gently laid them across the windowsill. 

Then he sat in his chair, picked up his needle and thread, and began mending a pair of trousers. And that was the moment when he became the brave little tailor.