Two robbers had been terrorizing the roads between towns, ambushing travelers, stealing their goods, and leaving them bruised and empty-handed in the dust. The local authorities searched for them without success. The bandits were clever, disguising themselves as merchants or pilgrims, blending into the crowds at markets and inns.
A sage who lived in the area devised a plan. He announced publicly that he would be traveling to a distant town carrying a large sum of money to purchase rare books. Word spread quickly—exactly as the sage intended.
On the appointed day, the sage set out on the road with a heavy sack on his donkey. As expected, the two robbers appeared at a narrow pass, blocking the way with drawn knives. "Hand over the money," they demanded.
The sage calmly invited them to sit and rest first. "You have been waiting in the sun," he said. "At least drink some water before you rob me." The robbers, amused by the old man's composure, sat down. The sage offered them wine from his flask. Within minutes, both men were fast asleep—the wine had been mixed with a sleeping draught.
The sage bound their hands and feet and led his donkey into town, where the authorities were waiting. The robbers were brought before the court, identified by their victims, and sentenced according to the law.
The Yalkut Shimoni (II, p. 146) and the Maase Buch (No. 221) both preserve versions of this tale. The lesson was clear: wisdom defeats violence every time. The sage risked his own safety to protect the community, and his weapon was not a sword but patience, cleverness, and a flask of doctored wine.