Arnold was sitting in a tavern, enjoying himself as he did on many other nights.
The doors opened, and an old fortune teller stepped inside.
“Anyone want their fortune read? I’m good at it!”
People laughed at her.
“Fortune telling,” they said. “No one believes that.”
Arnold joined the laughter.
“Oh, come on, old woman. Nobody here believes in such things. What could you possibly tell me about myself?”
She looked at him and said:
“Oh, I could tell you the exact time and place where you will die… but perhaps I’ll keep it to myself.”
Now Arnold grew curious.
“All right, then. Tell me. When am I going to die?”
And this time, the old woman became very serious.
“When St. Stephen’s tolls the thirteenth chime.”
The tavern roared with laughter.
“Well then,” Arnold shouted, “I’ll live forever! There’s no way on Earth the church bell will ring thirteen times.”
The night ended.
The fortune teller left.
Everyone went home.
Arnold was drunk, and he decided to climb St. Stephen’s Cathedral to see the city of Vienna from above.
He passed the great bell.
He leaned out to look at the lights of the city…
…and his sword tapped the bell.
Right after the twelfth chime—
it struck a thirteenth.
By morning, Arnold was found dead at the base of the cathedral.
It seemed that, after ringing the bell by accident, he slipped and fell to his death.
And people whispered, for a long time afterward, that the old gypsy woman had told him the exact way he would die.
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