THAT night, two thieves crept into the church to divide up their ill-gotten gains.

They had not noticed the peasant sitting quietly in the dark, and jumped out of their skins when he interrupted them in the middle of a childish argument over a gilded sabre, to suggest that the prize should go to the one who was man enough to chop off the head of the corpse in the coffin.

At that, the corpse sat up with a shriek, and began scrambling out of his casket. The two thieves ran for their lives.

Some time later, Marko and the peasant had finished sharing out the robbers’ loot between them, and sat back in companionable contentment.

‘And now’ said the peasant, introducing a discordant note, ‘how about my penny?’

Marko looked at him across his heap of gold coins, jewellery and silverware. ‘I’ll have to owe you’ he said solemnly. ‘I’ve no small change.’