‘The elder brother worked hard and one day he met a tall woman and fell in love. Time passed as time always will.

‘The younger brother, freed from jail, took comfort in wine and bemoaned the injustice that life had thrown at him. In his sober moments he grew curious about his older brother and wondered if he, like himself, was penniless. He returned to the village and found his older brother living in the same house, happily married to the tall woman. Having no resentment, the older brother asked the younger to stay and dine with them.

‘“How did you know that the will was a trick?” the younger brother asked.

‘“I would have told you but you were in such a hurry to leave.”

‘“Told me what?” said the younger brother, his eye greedy on the wine.

‘“That all the riches we have are to be discovered inside us. My wealth I found in the love I have for my wife. Such a promise as our uncle made us were hollow words from a shallow grave.”’

When Edith had finished she said, ‘I didn’t understand that story when my grandmother first told me it. I thought it must be missing a part. I know now it is about love that lies within us. Love is greater than a tall house and chest of gold.’

Demetrius kissed her. ‘You don’t know how wise you are,’ he said.

Demetrius asked the cabinet maker for Edith’s hand. The shepherd was not from these parts and therefore was considered an outsider and not a suitable husband. But in a drunken moment Edith’s father weakened and gave his consent to their betrothal. With sobriety came regret.

The butcher had long let it be known that he wanted Edith for his wife. The cabinet maker, hat in hand, with a sore head and a worried heart, paid a visit to the butcher to tell him what he had done. The butcher was skinning rabbits at the time. He didn’t look up from his work.

He said, ‘The lambing season’s nearly over.’

‘That’s so,’ said the cabinet maker.

The butcher wiped his knife on his apron and said, ‘The shepherd will soon take his flock to graze farther afield.’

The cabinet maker hadn’t thought of that.

‘You are her father. Tell them they can’t be married until after the harvest supper and not a day before. As for Edith – make her swear on her dead mother’s bible that if the shepherd isn’t back by the first snowfall, she will marry me. If she does that – swear, I mean, in front of the mayor – then you can forget about the money you owe me.’

The cabinet maker walked home with a spring in his step. All would be well, he told himself. He would stop drinking, turn his business round. And with each step he began to spin himself a tall tale from thin thread.